#one thing about me i’m gonna talk about cabin seven

[mediumgayitalian]

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors. “For.”

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. A distracted hand pats around until it reaches his head just as a grumbled oh, here we go is muffled into an oil-soaked polishing cloth.

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it. Kayla hums as she runs a careful hand over the curve of her bow, again and again, no half inch left unchecked. Austin taps the sole of his sock against the floorboards, pen ink smeared on his fingers and the corner of his mouth, in time with the chords playing almost loudly enough in his head for Will to hear them. Both of them look up, every couple of minutes, meeting his slow blinks; Kayla, eyes rolling as hard as she can, Austin’s quick upturn of the lips.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” Will says softly.

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink.

Austin reaches over and pats his hair again, although this time he looks up, sets down his music. He catches Will’s eye, deliberately, and smiles, last baby tooth near the edge of his smile wiggling with the force of it.

“You’re not going to ruin it,” he promises.

[xoxochb]

— glue song ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: swearing, kinda rushed ending pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hades a/n: first chapter… drop your opinions!

series m. list

the multiverse theory is the ideology that there are separate universes beyond this. many scientists have researched studies to retrieve a clear answer, yet nothing has been found. many people additionally like to make a belief that them and their most beloved would be different in this alternate universes. many think they might hate each other, love each other, or simply not know of each others existence.

you— the only daughter of hades at camp half-blood believe strongly in the fact that you and your best friend, head counselor of hermes cabin, would be best friends regardless of the opposite universe. luke castellan doesn’t think much into your science-y stuff, but if he ever finds you rambling he can’t help but listen because you’re you! disregarding his opinion on science theories if you love them that means he loves them, it’s a mutual thing, truly.

anyways, on days such as these, the slow ones where there aren’t much exciting events or camp duties, you find yourself cooped up in the coldness of cabin thirteen, a silent cabin all to yourself. this was only until your brother decided to move back in from cabin seven— then you would have to share it, unfortunately. you keep a book open in your lap, reading over the lines of endless words, entrancing yourself into the fictional world that is your book.

it was silent, and it was perfect and the fireplace crackling only added onto your cozy aura. you can’t help but let out a tiny squeal at this, then returning back to your seriousness of reading. but you were naive to think that you would get alone time for at least something as simple as an hour, soon enough the door to your cabin opens and you frown, refraining from looking up from your book and ignoring the person walking towards your bed. but by the prominent mop of dark curls you know who it is.

“not even gonna spare me a glance? you wound me, nerd, truly.”

“go away, luke, this is my silent reading time.”

he doesn’t listen. instead, luke ushers you to slide over as he takes a seat beside you on your bed.

“what’s the book of choice for today?”

“the shining.”

luke nods slowly. “I like the movie better.”

you remain silent and try to get yourself back into the book world as luke returns to silence. you’re disrupted again when his finger twirls around a strand of your hair delicately. you sigh and attempt to ignore it. until he tugs at it

“what the fuck are you doing! stop it!” you take your hair from his hold as he laughs at your dismay. “I’m not laughing, I don’t find you funny.”

“really? because I think I’m hilarious.”

your mouth remains shut.

“c’mon, nerd, talk to me. I’m dying here.”

“great. I’ll see you at the gates.”

luke opens his mouth to speak but ultimately decides not to say anything. you’d known luke since your first arrival at camp back when you were ten, you’d came straight from the underworld where you lived with your father. as a demigod, typically you’d stay with your mortal parent, however, your mother had apparent ‘complications’ said by your father and you were forced to live in his palace for the first years of your life until he deemed it unhealthy for you to be cooped up down there for so long. when you’d arrived at camp, luke had been one of the only campers that had spoken to you— most to all of the others wouldn’t dare look in your direction due to your godly heritage.

but luke didn’t care about that. he welcomed you happily and allowed you to befriend him, since this, you had been inseparable. when you were fifteen he discovered your passion for all things astronomy while catching you reading a planets book by the lake one afternoon. he had sat beside you and listened as you rambled until the moon rose and the sun set, nonsense he declared it, just a bunch of your nerdy stars and planets bullshit he’d never cared for before. but since meeting you he’d grown to become fond of them— they were always a quiet reminder of you. and welcome the nickname. ‘nerd’ he calls you. at first you hated it, after a year or two you got used to it and stopped complaining.

“I’ll get to see you?”

“that’s not—” you search for the right words. “stop.“

“you’ve gotta make a more convincing argument, nerd.”

“well I want you to stop, isn’t that enough?”

“alright, my mouth is zipped.” luke makes a zipper motion over his mouth. you turn back to your book and try to re-read the lines again. luke places his head atop yours, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. he frowns. “you smell different. like vanilla. you usually smell like berries.”

“you got an emotional attachment to the berry conditioner?”

he shrugs. “I did.”

“I’ll make sure to buy that one next time then since your feelings are so hurt.”

“really? you’re great, nerd, thanks.”

you shake your head slowly. the cabin returns back to silence, a comfortable silence. yet you secretly wish he would say something again, even if it’s utterly stupid. and unbeknownst to you, luke wishes only the same of you.

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Four: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 8.1k

I wake up to the smell of French toast coming from the kitchen; I smile, realizing what day it is. I groan, feeling the muscles in my back stretch and my spine pop. I throw on my jeans and exit the room. I find you in the kitchen, you were dancing to Prince on the radio, in an oversized band tee, not noticing me behind you. I realize the shirt you’re wearing is mine, a shirt that I haven’t seen in almost twenty years. 

“Merry Christmas.” I say and you yelp, awkwardly stumbling back into me as the spatula falls out of your hand. I hold your waist and you're laughing loudly. 

“Jesus Christ. You scared me!” You cup my face and kiss my lips softly. “Merry Christmas.” 

I smile against your lips, gripping your waist. “I was wondering what happened to this shirt.” 

You blush, winking at me. “You left it at my house.” 

“I’m sure I did.” I laugh, gently patting her ass as she goes back to cooking breakfast. I peek out the windows, the snow was pretty melted already. It seemed warmer than usual. I feel my phone ringing in my pocket, and I see that it’s Ted, I smile when I answer. 

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.” I say with a grin.

I hear him giggle. “Merry Christmas, dickhead. How you doing?” 

I glance over at you, and you look up, smiling sweetly at me. “Better than I have been.” 

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” 

“Remember the girl?” I whisper. “The one I told you about.” 

“The girl…the girl. Oh!” He laughs loudly. “Wow, man. That’s amazing. Are things…are things well…?”

“Things are incredible.” I grin and I pull my hair up in a half pony. 

“Good. I love to hear it.” He coughs a little. “Happy seven months by the way.” 

I glance at the date on my phone, he was right. I was seven months clean. I’ve never had that much time under my belt. “Wow. I didn’t even realize…thanks, man.” 

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He says, and I hear him let out another hacking cough. “The boys talked about meeting at the studio, Gareth told me you’ve been writing?” 

“Uhhh. Been preoccupied to finish, but yeah.” I smile. “I haven’t sang anything yet, it’s been a while.” 

“You know whatever you do it’s gonna come out amazing.” He’s coughing again, and I can’t help but feel a little worried. 

“You alright, Teddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wrong pipe is all.” He laughs. “Where you at? East coast or cabin?”

“Boston. I have to go back to the cabin in a few days for my next therapy session.” I had almost forgotten until now, I would’ve been fucked if I missed it. 

“Okay, why don’t we plan to meet at the Boston studio after New Years? Bring your girl.” 

My girl. 

“Okay.” I smile. “What are you doing today?”

“Nellie is coming to town with the grandkids, been some time since I’ve seen them.” I can hear a smile in his voice. “Julie is coming too.” His ex-wife. 

“Ohhhh.” I grin goofily at the phone. “Rekindling things hopefully?” 

He laughs. “We’ll see. Enjoy your day, Eddie. Love you.” 

“Thanks, man. Love you too.” 

I hang up, you ask me who was on the phone, and I tell you it was the man who saved my life. 

We had finished breakfast, had light conversation about the plans for the day. Gareth had video chatted me, and when he saw your face on the screen, I thought he was gonna pass out. You had taken the phone from me, laughing and talking about things from the past. Gareth kept saying “oh my god, oh my god” which was weird because, he was the one who gave you my phone number. I had shrugged it off, he was probably excited that it actually happened, that we were in the same room together after so many years. When she had given the phone back to me, Gareth had smiled large. 

“You look good, dude.” He grins, sipping his coffee. “Email me that song you wrote, I want to add the melody notes.” 

“It’s not finished yet.” I sigh. “I don’t even know if I want to record it, it’s different from our regular stuff.” 

“Nothing wrong with being different, didn’t you tell me that?” He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. 

“It’s…it’s almost like a ballad. I guess, I don’t know. I started it in rehab and then picked away at it when I hid out in my cabin. There are definitely parts that we can add the heavy stuff to, I don’t know.” I laugh awkwardly. 

“Dude, stop being hard on yourself.” He smiles at me. “I’m sure it’s great. Go enjoy your day with her and I’ll see you soon.” 

“Alright, man.” I smile. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

He gives me the middle finger. “Merry Christmas, bitch.” 

I hang up, putting my phone on silent and look up at you. You were coming towards me with a wrapped present in your hand.

“What?” I laugh. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t get you anything. Why did you get me something?” 

“Relax. I’ve actually had this forever.” You sit down next to me, curling your legs under you. “I got it for you before…well, before everything.” 

You hand it to me, and I can tell you were telling the truth because the corners on the wrapping paper had wear on them. I stare into your eyes, trying to comprehend. “Come on I’ve waited fifteen years to give this to you.” You laugh and I smile at you, tearing the paper. My eyes immediately fill with tears, remembering. 

It was a music transcript notebook that I had my eyes set on at a record shop back then. It was 200 pages of smooth paper, leather bound; I remember this being expensive. 

“This…you got me this?” I look in your eyes and you nod. “How…what? Why?”

You shrug and give me a sad smile. “Because I loved you.” 

I rub my palm over my trembling lips, running my fingers over the pages. It still looked brand new after all these years. I feel my heart shatter in pieces, I feel every regret and mistake swim through my mind. You take my hand in yours, dipping your head to look in my eyes. “Hey, look at me.” 

I clear my throat, looking at you, feeling hot tears on my cheeks. You cup my cheek, wiping my tears away with your finger. 

“This isn’t me giving you this to remind you of what could have been or to have you beg for my forgiveness. Because I’m not gonna do that. I forgave you a long time ago, that’s why I hung on to this. It reminded me every day of the good. Not the bad. Never the bad. Because you were always good, Eddie.” You curl your fingers through my hair, and I shake my head at you. 

“I was only good because of you.” I whisper, wiping the snot from my nose. 

“That’s not true and you know that.” You say, moving your other hand to the other side of my face. “It just took you a bit to catch up, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“Look where I ended up.” I cry softly. “Look what I did to myself for all those years, how is any of that good?” 

“Look where you are now.” You say to me, opening the binding of the book to a blank page. You point to it. “Blank page. New chapter, better life.” 

I stare at you in awe, wondering if this was a cruel dream and I was actually held up in that hotel room in Manhattan, overdosing, imagining things like this. I take your face in my hands, kissing you sweetly, you curl your hands through my hair, and I press my forehead against yours. You were real. This was real. 

“Thank you.” I whisper to you. “Thank you for everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile against my lips and pull back, gently running your hand over my cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” I whisper to you, pressing my lips to yours again, cupping the back of your head. I pull you by your thighs onto my lap, gripping your ass and your waist. You lean back, pulling my shirt off of your head and press your lips to mine again. I hold onto your back, clawing at your skin, as I continue to massage my tongue with yours. You grind against me, and I groan into your mouth, instantly getting hard. I kiss your neck, lick down to your breast, and take your nipple in my mouth. You let out a sigh, your back arching and I hold you tighter. You hold onto my shoulders, pulling my face to yours, kissing me deeply. I feel your hands unzip me, and I groan against your skin as you take my cock and bury me inside you. I hold your hips as you rock, the beautiful moans that you breathe out send shivers down my spine. I cup your breasts, rubbing your erect nipples as they bounce in my hand. 

“Unghhhh baby, you feel so good.” You moan loudly and my head falls back against the couch, rocking you faster. “Ahhhh, fuck.” 

“Mmmm.” I moan, pushing myself deeper into you, arching my hips. “You like that baby?” 

“Fuck Eddie.” You gasp out a shaky breath and I smile, hearing you say my name like that awakens a wild animal in me, I just want to feel all of you and more. I meet your lips, wrapping both my arms around your waist and turn you onto your back. I hold your leg over my shoulder, slamming into you, feeling every inch of your wet pussy swallowing my dick whole. “Just like that baby, don’t stop, don’t stop…annnnghhhh!” 

You’re getting so loud, and I feel myself shudder, pornographic sounds and grunts escape my mouth and I feel you clench around me. “F-fuck…ohhh…unghhh…”

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come…oh my…oh…unghhhhhhh!” You cry out as your orgasm rocks your entire body, I keep fucking you, and you’re still screaming as your pussy continues to clench my cock. I groan loudly, feeling my eyes roll back and I feel the warmth come out of my cock as I come inside you, I don’t stop thrusting until I’m completely empty. You’re still trembling underneath me, still moaning as the stimulation you feel starts to settle. I swallow a lump in my throat, pressing my lips to yours, thrusting into you once more. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manhattan. 

The second to last city of the tour. 

I haven’t used heroin in two weeks. Two long, boring, fucked up weeks. 

Everyone keeps saying how proud they are of me and that I’m doing the right thing. But am I? Do they know that behind my stupid smile and my sense of humor is a fucking ticking time bomb ready to go off and take everyone down with them? No? Yeah, probably not. I’m not that easy to read anymore. I’m still a drug addict and I still know how manipulate people into believing my lies. The ache and the urge to use is so hard to resist, I feel like I’m slowly dying. Everything makes me sad, I cry all the time. I feel like a fucking pussy. 

The shows we’ve been putting on have been unreal though. We’ve had to do double shows because the stadiums have been sold out.

I should be grateful; we have great support from our fans. We had a meet and greet and had met a beautiful young woman, who couldn’t have been younger than twenty-one, who was battling terminal cancer, told us that our music keeps her going on the worst days. I hugged her while she cried, held her face and told her that she was strong, that whatever happens she will walk out of here knowing she made a difference in my life. And when she left, I locked myself in the bathroom, weeping because it was too much. It was all too much, feeling her pain, seeing it in her eyes. I made Ted take down her email, her mother’s email. I don’t know why but I needed to know what happened to her. 

We were on stage now, finishing the last song. I wailed on Sweetheart; my hair was sweat soaked and whipping around me as I head banged around the stage while Gareth slammed on the drums. I bring my mouth to the microphone, singing the last verse, and look back at Gareth, he grins, hitting the double bass petal, snare and we fade out. The roar of the crowd vibrates our bodies, thank them for coming to the show. I toss my guitar pick in the audience and blow them air kisses. 

The boys and I went to a local bar to celebrate, naturally, I had gotten extremely drunk. But they didn’t seem to care, I mean, if they did, they didn’t say anything. Being drunk was better than being sober and when I was sober, I kept seeing the girls face with the cancer. I couldn’t even see straight; I was surprised I made it to my hotel room. 

I don’t even think I shut my door, because as soon as I walked in to empty my pockets, I couldn’t believe what I had placed on the table. 

Sitting so perfectly beside my cigarettes, lighter, and loose cash was a little plastic baggy with light brown powder, and two capped needles. I feel a laugh escape my lungs; I don’t believe this is real. When did I buy some? Was it at the bar? Was it outside the bar? I really don’t remember. I held the baggy in my palm, staring at it like it was the missing piece of the puzzle. 

I didn’t even hesitate; it was like riding a bike. I had done the first shot; it had burned like hot embers in my veins. It made me sweat; the summer air didn’t help, but sitting on the floor next to the air conditioner did. The top two buttons of my shirt were undone, I didn’t take the necklace off. Maybe I should’ve. I press the needle into my vein again. Same spot, uh oh. I smile at the burn again; I probably should’ve waited before I did it again. My head feels heavy, but I am so fucking high I don’t even care. 

I look at the syringe, there’s still some in there, I clench my fist, looking for a different vein. It was just enough to…

Suddenly I’m in my back, staring up at the ceiling, everything feels foggy, I can’t move. My heart isn’t beating, or is it? 

“Look at what you’ve become.” I hear your voice and I slowly turn my head; I taste something foul in my mouth, something warm is spilling onto my cheeks. I see your face, kneeling next to me. There is no way you’re real, looking at me this way, your face cold, your eyes blank. “Just a dead man, laying on a cold floor with a needle in your arm.” 

My body reacts, I feel it trembling. I can’t speak, my limbs don’t work. Nothing is working. I feel calm though, isn’t that weird? 

Did the show really go well? Or did I imagine that too? I think I forgot the words to a song…but Gareth had took over. Have I been high this entire time? 

It’s quiet now. The room is still, I think I see Gareth…he’s screaming something at me. But he’s not angry, he looks almost scared, and he’s weeping. I can’t hear him; I can’t hear anything anymore.

“He’s still coding.” 

“Adrenaline.”

“Are you crazy?” 

“Just do it!” 

“Fifth narcan given.” 

“Eddie? Eddie? Can you hear me?” 

“Still no response. Eyes fixed and dilated.” 

“He’s not dying tonight! Do you know who this is?! Do another narcan, I’ll start compressions.”

“Can you step on it, Mike?!” 

“Give me the adrenaline.” 

“You’re crazy if you think it’s gonna work. Fifth narcan given. No response.” 

“Give me the fucking adrenaline!” 

“It’s not gonna work! Doug, don’t!” 

A loud, deep, gasp escapes my lungs, and my vision clears. I’m in the back of an ambulance, my shirt is ripped and there is a needle sticking out of my bare chest. I feel sweaty, I feel clammy, I think I’m still dead. I stare at the wide eyes of the paramedic and try to ignore the vibrations of what I assume is adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I pull the needle out of my chest, and I feel immediately trapped. 

“Stop the truck, let me go.” I say, my eyes wide. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital.” The man who I assume is Doug says. “Whatever you took is not fully cleared from your system.” 

“Nope, no hospital, let me the fuck out.” I go to crawl off the gurney and two strong hands push me back on the bed. I start to struggle, and I end up elbowing Doug in the face. He falls back, and the other paramedic tries to restrain me.

“Mike! Stop the truck! Code gray!”  I rip the CB radio off the wall, and I smash it on his head. I was a trapped animal in a cage, and I needed to get out. The ambulance slams to a halt, and I smash my shoulder against the back doors, awkwardly stumbling out and I start running. Well, running as best as I could. We weren’t that far away from the hotel, and I was grateful when the building came into few. It must’ve been late, because when I walk in the lobby the only person there was the receptionist and she looked at me like I was a walking zombie. 

I try to smile and wave to her, and I can only imagine what that looked like to her because she looked even more terrified. I make it back up to my room, everything was thrown everywhere, the bed was a mess, the floor had medical equipment laid out. There was a puddle of whatever liquid had come out of my mouth on the floor by the air conditioner. My phone, Sweetheart, my suitcase and everything else was still where I left it. This was the third time I have ever overdosed in my life, but it was never this bad. I never had to take an ambulance ride. I walk into the bathroom, and I can understand why the receptionist looked terrified. I was very pale, almost ghostly, my eyes had dark circles underneath them. My curly hair was sticking to my skin because of my sweat, there was a black and blue bruise on my chest. I did look like a dead man walking. 

Oh, what do you know, I still have drugs. 

Did I shoot up again after having just overdosed? Yeah. Why? You may wonder. 

Well, it didn’t kill me. 

I’m sitting up on the floor of the hotel room, a stupid smirk on my face because I knew I wasn’t dying again. I know I’m a piece of shit, I know Gareth was the one who found me teetering on life and death. 

I hear three loud rapping knocks on my door. “Fuck off.” I groan out. 

“This is NYPD.” 

“I didn’t die so you can leave now!” I shout at them. 

“Not gonna do that sir. We could do this easy way or hard way, open the door.” 

I feel angry now, I stumble to my feet and whip the door open. 

“Edward Munson?” 

“Depends on who’s asking.” I let out a low chuckle, there was three officers, and they weren’t impressed. 

“Edward Munson, you have a right to remain silent…” one of the officers comes towards me. 

“Fuck right off!” I said, stepping back but he has the upper hand on me. He grabs my forearm and I swing my fist, connecting with the side of his jaw. The two other officers tackle me, and I’m still able to fight them off. I feel a back hand connect with my nose and mouth, tasting blood immediately. I’m finally forced onto my stomach, my hands are behind my back as I’m shouting profanities at them, letting them know my lawyer was one of the best in the country. They pull me to my feet, the officer that I punched looks at me like a disappointed father. 

“It’s a shame. You’re my son’s favorite band.” He wipes the blood from his face. 

“Gonna tell him to stop listening cause you’re dealing with the devil?” I grin at him, knowing very well there is blood staining my teeth. They pull me out of the hotel room, and lead me out to the lobby. There’s already a line of people outside, I see paparazzi. Oh, this is gonna be great. I wonder what the tabloids are gonna say about me now. 

Heavy metal rockstar Eddie Munson arrested in New York City for being on a drug induced psychosis and beating up cops. 

Probably not exactly that, but at least nobody found out I died for five minutes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had driven to the studio in downtown Boston. It didn’t feel like winter, it felt like a cool spring day. I had to go back up to upstate New York for my therapy session, she was impressed with what more I had to say. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to get her to not think I was an asshole. I had mentioned you, and the way she looked at me made me think I was telling her a bedtime story. I had spoken to the paramedics that I had hurt the night of my overdose, apologizing for my behavior even though it probably didn’t mean much because I still hurt them, they never wanted to press charges because they’ve dealt with worse people but since the ambulance company was state run, charges had to be filed, as well as the charges for assaulting three police officers. I had to complete a 90 day program, continue my sobriety with a sponsor and have two years of mandatory therapy. 

You were excited to see the studio when we pulled into the lot. We had stayed at my condo, and I was exhausted. I was up all night doing the finishing touches to the song I was writing. I had sent it to Gareth this morning and all he had written back after I sent it was: “Dude. I’m weeping.” 

I’m not sure if that was a good or bad thing, but as soon as we walked into the studio Gareth had tackled me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. You had laughed at our exchanged, and he had done the same thing to you. Ted had arrived soon after with coffee and bagels. He had hugged you like he had known you forever, and when he saw me, I honestly could’ve cried. He had met us when we were a struggling newbie band, we were just kids. Straight out of a small town, no dime to our name. We would sleep in his basement, he’d cook us dinner and his wife would do our laundry. He’s why we’re here today, why we can do this job and I hope he knows just how grateful I am for him. 

This was my favorite place to record. It was mostly an office building, but we had owned the studio. No one bothered us, we didn’t bother them. We purposely remodeled it to make it soundproof, there was an engineering table, with two computers, and a sound mixing station. We had three recording booths, three large couches sat up against the wall. Ted sat on one, patting his forehead with a tissue. He was sweaty, seemed a little pale but he had mentioned earlier he felt like he was coming down with something. 

I sit next to him. “How was seeing your family?” 

He smiles at me. “Oh, it was great. The grandkids are getting so big. Julie wants to go for dinner tomorrow night.” 

I smile, nudging him with my shoulder. “That’s good, right?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles, looking over at you. Gareth was showing you all the different controls on the engineering board, and how the sound works through the speakers. I follow his eyes, and I smile.

“She’s beautiful.” He says with a grin. “Don’t fuck it up again.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I laugh, running hand through my hair. I was getting nervous about the recording, and he could sense that. Gareth was the only one who read it, and now I was going to be singing it in front of everyone. Even you. I didn’t show you what I had written, it feels like a diary entry almost. Gareth had already told me that he knew what music to put in for it, I had made a note towards the end where the heaviness would come in. 

“You’re gonna do great.” Ted says with a smile. “You always do. Remember, kid. Blank page, clean slate.” He goes to stand up from the couch and I poke his ass with the tip of my shoe.

“Thank you.” I tell him, quietly. “For never giving up on me.” 

He rolls his eyes, and winks, I laugh. “Save the theatrics for later, you got work to do.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I let out a loud sigh. I walk towards the recording booth, the song in my hands. Gareth gently massages my shoulders, following me into the booth.

“You got this, man.” He tells me. “Deep breaths, sing your heart out, block everyone out, and just feel it.” 

I nod at him, shaking the nerves out of my hands as I close the door to the booth. I lay the paper on the stand and place the headphones over my ears. I hear Jeff’s voice over the speakers in my ears. 

“Ready?” 

“No.” I laugh and give him a thumbs up through the window. 

I already had the melody in my head, it was just Gareth’s job to mimic it, and Jeff would add the background after. I glance at the song, meet your eyes, and I smile. 

I begin.

“It’s cold in here, my hands shake, my bones ache. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. All the mistakes, they’re catching up, maybe I should’ve just been left for dead. My mind is broken; the walls I made are crumbling around me. It’s so easy to just be, but the ache is there, it calls to me, I just want it inside of me.  Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. Down the rabbit hole I go, how are they supposed to find me? Will I be bone, will I be ash, will I be lost for good?  I don’t regret it, it’s why I’m here, my heart bleeds in my chest. One last shot, that’s all I want, and then maybe they will heal. It’s all I dream, the clouds around me, smiling as I go. But you came back, screaming my name, and it all fades to black. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. An angel with wings, that’s what I thought, but it was a devil in disguise. I can’t go back, I have to repent, my sins are killing me. My sins are killing me!” I extend the note at the end, and I hear Gareth on the drums. I keep my eyes closed, nodding my head to his beat. I wait for three beats, one, two three…and I’m yelling out the song, feeling my stomach muscles clench as my voice comes out, sounding broken, and angry.

“Cold floors, cold walls, I can’t feel anything at all, just these thoughts that haunt my mind, driving me fucking insane, one last shot that’s all I want, I don’t want to feel this. But somehow, I’m still alive, and there’s nothing left to see. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home.”  I add the second to last verse again, followed by the chorus, and I yell, my voice fading, and I glance over at my bandmates. In the speakers of my ears, I hear Jeff, “Fuck YEAH, man!” 

I laugh, taking the headphones off my ears. You had tears in your eyes as you’re clapping, and I come out of the booth. Gareth is already whooping as he comes out of the booth, his drumsticks in his hand. 

“Play it back.” I tell them. I look over at Ted, who’s smiling with tears in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulder and he places his hand over mine. We listen to it back, and I’m amazed at how it sounds. We begin to brainstorm on what melody should go where, where to add the guitar. How heavy it should sound at the end. We spent about three hours in the studio, recording the music, adding more riffs, adding piano to it. Once it was completed to our liking, we listened. We haven’t had a melodic song like this since our first album, and I couldn’t believe that was my voice. 

“I say we go celebrate by getting some Italian.” Ted says with a grin.  

“You buying?” I grin, pulling you towards me by your waist. 

“Ha, you’re funny. Let me piss first.” He goes into the bathroom, and I lean my head against your shoulder. 

“That song was amazing.” You tell me, gently rubbing my chin. “I forgot you could sing like that.” 

“Wasn’t that great.” I say, giving you a goofy smile and you nudge me with your shoulder. 

“It was perfect.” You kiss my lips gently and I grin. 

“Ugh, don’t miss that.” Gareth laughs and pokes my stomach. “I’m starving, where’s Teddy?” 

“Bathroom.” 

I watch as Gareth walk into the bathroom and the door closes behind him. “Teddy! Are you taking a shit? Did you fall in?” 

We both giggle. I turn to you, but your eyes are somewhere else. Gareth has come out of the bathroom, his face ashen, his body trembling. “Call 911.” He says loudly. Jeff whips up his head, and the engineer is immediately on the phone. 

“What?” My heart is in my throat. 

I watch as you run into the bathroom, I go to follow you, but Gareth stops me, his hand on my chest, tears are streaming down his face. “Don’t go in there, Eddie.” 

I push his hand off me, ignoring his words and I jog to the bathroom. “Eddie! Eddie!” 

I skid to a halt, watching as you’re giving chest compressions to Ted. Gareth slams his chest into me but has remained frozen as he stares at what you’re doing.  

He’s not moving, his eyes are partially closed, and I see a little blood in the corner of his mouth. “Ted?” I almost yell. 

You look up at me, your expression in full nurse mode as you continue your compressions, feeling his pulse. “Eddie, stay outside, please.” 

I don’t hear you; I slide to the floor and move next to Ted. Trying to see, trying to understand. “Wake up, man.” I say, my heart beating fast. I hear blood rushing in my ears. I couldn’t see his chest rise and fall; just the force of your compressions trying to pump air in his lungs. 

“Eddie, come on.” Gareth sputters out, his hand on my shoulder. I slap him away, there was a cold chill going down my spine. 

“Teddy, wake up.” I’m getting angry now, I feel my throat lock up, and tears sting behind my eyes. He was fucking with us, he had to be. I place my hand on his, he was still warm, but I got no reaction. “Wake the fuck up, man!” 

I watch as you sit back on your heels, your eyes meet Gareth’s and I see you shake your head, you look at me now. “Eddie…”

“No.” I say through my teeth, I hold his face in my hands. “Teddy. Teddy. Wake up. Stop fucking with us man, stop this.” He’s not even looking at me, his chest isn’t moving. I feel myself trembling. I shake his head. “Teddy, wake up!” I feel your hand on my forearm, Gareth’s hand fisting my shirt from behind. I can hear the sound of a two-way radio outside the door. An angry, loud, groan escapes me and I’m sobbing. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking do this to me, man. Please wake up. You’re supposed to go to dinner with Julie tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m better now. I promise, just wake up. Please Teddy. Please.” 

The paramedics are in the bathroom now, and I can feel Gareth pulling me back. A loud, guttural, groan escapes my lungs as Gareth has to practically drag me from the bathroom. “Teddy!” I scream, thrashing against Gareth’s grasp. The struggle causes both of us to fall on our asses to the floor, and he’s almost restraining me. You’re in front of me now, holding my face in your hands as angry sobs and groans scream out of me. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” You say calmly. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, Eddie. Breathe.” 

“I don’t care!” I moan out, my teeth grinding. My ears still ringing, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a father and there was no way he was gone. 

“Eddie, baby, please…”

I struggle in Gareth’s grasp, my body still shaking with sobs as I see them wheel Ted out from the bathroom. A mask over his face, the paramedic on top of him doing compressions. They disappear, telling us what hospital and nothing is making sense. Nothing. None of it. 

I felt like I was in a fever dream as I pace in the hospital waiting room. I was talking to myself, reassuring myself that he was okay, that he was alive and would be cracking jokes in his hospital bed. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, even you. I had tried calling Julie, but her phone had immediately gone to voice mail. Gareth was still pale, sipping out of the same coffee cup he has been for the last half hour. 

The doctor had come, and before he could even say the words, I’m walking away from him. I’m holding my stomach; afraid my insides are gonna fall out and a jagged breath escapes me. A sound I never knew I could make before comes rattling out of me, it hurt so much. A massive heart attack killed him. 

“We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. If it gives you any sort of comfort, he didn’t feel much. If anything it just felt like a tickle.” I whip my head around to look at him, I know my eyes are wide and look feral. 

“Do you actually know that though? You don’t know what or how he felt, so don’t even fucking claim that you do.” My voice is breaking, and you pull me away from the doctor, leading me to sit. “I don’t want to sit!” I shout, but your palm is on my chest, gently pushing me down. I hear Gareth say a few more words to the doctor and he walks away. He is handing me a plastic bag, it had Ted’s key, his wallet, his phone, his fucking wedding ring. 

“They need Julie to release his body to the funeral home, have you gotten ahold of her?” His voice sounds far away, he’s still crying, and I can’t look at him, I just shake my head. My hands are trembling as I’m gazing at the plastic bag, I shake my head, rubbing the snot from my nose. Ted’s phone vibrates in the bag, and I see Julie’s name light up. I stare at her name, and I pull the phone out. I stand up from the seat, clearing my throat as I slide to answer. 

“Julie?” I hold my stomach, a small sob escaping me. 

"Hello? Eddie?” She already sounds panicked. “I have no reception where I am, what are you doing answering Teddy’s phone?”

“Um.” I let out a small groan. “We’re in Boston, at a hospital. Ted, he…he uh…” I can’t say it, I can’t fucking say it.

“Eddie…what is going on?” I hear her voice shake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my wrist falling away with the phone before I put it to my ear again. “Ted’s gone…he…he died.” 

“No, he didn’t.” She inhales a gasp. “Eddie, don’t lie to me, no he didn’t!”

I’m weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“No Eddie!” She’s screaming, a loud, heartbreaking scream. “I talked to him earlier, he was fine! He was fine! Oh jesus…”

“I know, I know. We were at the studio…and…and then he was in the bathroom. He didn’t hear me; I was trying to wake him up. Julie, I tried, I tried to wake him up, I’m so sorry.” My knees are buckling as I’m sliding to the floor, my body aching, my throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Eddie, Eddie, you listen to me right now. Don’t fall back on what you’ve come so far to accomplish. He was proud of you. Despite everything, he loved you, Eddie. You were like a son to him, don’t fall apart now. You hear me?” I nod into the phone; I can’t see straight. I don’t even remember her asking me what hospital, or when she said she would be there. I was still crumpled on the floor, you were at my side, rubbing my head, and I was scrolling through the photos on his phone. There was so many of his grandkids, his kids. There was a bunch of us performing, a bunch of random selfies because I’m sure he forgot how to flip the camera. I scroll through his contacts, trying to remember if there was anyone else, I needed to call. I stop when I see your name.

What?

You’re not looking at me, you’re talking to Gareth about something I’m not bothering to listen to. I click your contact name and see a thread of text messages between you and Ted. It goes back seven months ago. 

What the fuck?

Before I could even make a comment on what I have seen, the doctor comes back, asking if we’d like to see him. I place the phone in my pocket, I would deal with this later. I didn’t even know how to react towards you, why were you talking to him seven months ago if you just met him today? I get up from the floor, and I realize I’m ignoring you. I turn to kiss your lips quickly, Gareth, Jeff and I follow the doctor to a hospital room. I watch as you sit down, waving at me defeatedly, looking tired, sad. I could feel my heart breaking and I didn’t even know why.

They tell us as soon as we’re outside the room that we would have to go in one at a time. Jeff goes in first; I’ve never seen him cry before, and when he came out, he looked like he was about to pass out. I fist his shirt to get him to stand upright, and I hug him to me. Gareth goes in next, he’s in there for a few minutes until he comes out, wiping his eyes, looking at me like I could shatter at any moment. 

I pat his back, reassuring him that I was okay. But I’m not sure if I was.  I step into the room; the lights were bright. Ted was laying on his back, a white sheet was up to his chest. My stomach clenches again and I have to support myself on the bed rail before I sit down. 

I take his hand; it was so cold. I had to warm him up. He shouldn’t be cold. Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at his face. I’m not sure if he looked peaceful, or if he looked dead. 

“I still think you’re fucking with me.” I tell him quietly. “After all those times you brought me back, I would think this was some sort of punishment.” My lips tremble and I feel hot tears pool down my cheeks. “Fuck you, man. Why’d you have to go and die on me? After everything – after so many years of you practically raising us to be better men, better friends, a better brotherhood. What are we supposed to do now? What are we supposed to do without you?” 

A sob escapes me, a small whimper, my head falls to his bed and I’m laying my forehead against his hand, holding it tight, my chest hurting, my stomach in knots. I feel strong arms on my shoulders, pulling me up. 

“Come on, dude.” It’s Gareth, my head falls to his chest, I felt weak, he helps me out of the chair. I feel like I’m being weighed down by cement as I stare at his body. 

“No…” I groan out loud, I sound like a kid. A kid who just said goodbye to the only person he’d ever known as a father. “I can’t leave him.” 

“It’s okay, dude. I’m here.” Gareth continued to lead me away, my head falls in my hands and I’m groaning again. It hurts, it all hurts too fucking much. 

We waited until Julie got to the hospital a few hours later, I could barely stand up when I saw her. She was cradling me like a small child, rubbing my head, telling me everything was gonna be okay. I didn’t want her to comfort me, I told her. After everything I put him through, she should hate me. She told me that she could never hate me, that I meant so much to her and Ted, that we all did. That she prayed everyday my heart still beat, and that I’d fight the addiction I so desperately craved right now. 

Once Ted was set to go to the funeral home in his hometown in Vermont, you had driven my car back to my condo. You were leaving tomorrow, going back to Maine, to go back to work. We don’t speak when we take the elevator up to my place. I’m on my phone looking at news articles, there was no way the media didn’t get wind of this. 

And I was right, the first article on Google says: Longtime friend and manager of Corroded Coffin, Theodore “Teddy” Callahan has died of a heart attack, at 58. I toss my phone roughly on the couch, you jump a little and I mutter that I was sorry. You sit next to me, wrapping your arms around my shoulders, you lay your cheek on my arm. 

“What can I do?” You ask me sweetly. 

I don’t answer you; I’m staring off, I can’t see straight. Tears still continue to pour down my cheeks. My entire body feels stiff. I had to know, I had to know why she was in Ted’s phone. Why it seems they have been talking longer than they let on. 

“How long have you been talking to Ted?” I feel you freeze next to me. 

“What? I just met him today.” 

I meet your eyes, I’m not in the mood for games. “You may have met him today, but you’ve been talking to him for seven fuckingmonths.” 

You pull away from me, rubbing your eyes. “Eddie, I can explain that.” 

“So, explain.” I feel my chest heaving. There are so many emotions: grief, anger, sadness, the urge to stick a needle in my veins. 

You just stare at me; I can tell you’re trying to figure out what to say. Realization settles in my gut and I stand up from the couch. “That letter was a crock of shit, wasn’t it?” 

“No, no Eddie! I meant every word.” Your eyes are filling with tears. 

“You LIED to me!” I yell at you. “You said Gareth gave you my number. Gareth didn’t even fuck know you were around until the other day! When did Ted reach out to you? Because I know you didn’t.” 

“After your overdose, after everything with the courts.” You sigh, standing and walking toin were me, I step back from you. “Eddie, I wasn’t gonna send you a letter at first. I couldn’t do it. It was like someone brought you back from the dead even though you were alive.” 

“So, you knew everything about me, about my struggles, about ALL of it and just pretended to care? Pretended this whole time?” I’m staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not pretending Eddie! He reached out to me because he was scared, he didn’t know what else to do. He said you kept talking about me, how sad you seemed and he thought maybe, maybe I’d be able to help. I was fully ready to just see you, rekindle our friendship but I never thought we’d end up here. When I saw you, it all came rushing back and I couldn’t control it. I love you, I have always loved you.” 

“That don’t mean shit if you came to see me out of pity.” I feel tears sting my eyes again; I just want to rip my fucking eyeballs out. 

“I didn’t! I came here because I was worried.” 

“Your aunt just happened to be away that entire week?” 

You stare at me. 

“Answer me!” I yell, my voice breaking. 

“My aunt has been dead for five years. When I travel I use her place because she left it to me.” You sound so small and I just laugh at you. 

“That’s fucked up. Even for you.” I clench my fists, pressing them to my eyes and you let out a sob. “These last three weeks, you’ve been making love to me, cooking for me, bringing me gifts from the past, telling me that you love me, when this entire time you had no intention in ever speaking to me again if it wasn’t for Ted?” 

“Eddie, I thought about you every day!” 

“Stop the bull shit! Stop it!” I clench my stomach, the same familiar ache forming. “I don’t believe you. Every time you speak, I hear a lie, even if you are telling me the truth. Is this punishment? For breaking your heart? Well, you win, sweetheart! Cause mine is a pile of fucking dust!” 

“Eddie, please.” You’re sputtering. “Let’s talk about this.” 

“No.” I shake my head at you, tears falling. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want you to get out.” 

“What?” 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

You stare at me with wide eyes, pure heartbreak and disappointment on your face. I have to look away from you, I can’t look at you. Because if I look at you this way, I’ll want to take you in my arms, kiss your tears away and pretended like this never happened, but I can’t do it. I can’t. You don’t say anything to me as you take your purse off the couch, you look back at me once and I meet your eyes. I watch as you walk away from me, down the hall until you get to the elevators. A shaky sob escapes me, and I sit on my floor, I hold my head in my hands. Before, I was the one who walked away from you, because I couldn’t handle how to be loved by you. Now, I’m sending you away, because I can’t stomach the thought of you actually still loving me, after everything, after all the pain, the things I’ve done. Maybe you really don’t, and this whole thing was just a game. 

How could you love someone like me? I’m broken, I’m damaged. 

I’m still a fucking monster. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: Thank you guys! Don't worry, it's not over! Taglist: @kellsck @bellalillyrose @iggyizalien @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @themorticians-world

[averagejoesolomon]

Here you go! Have another chapter! Can you spot all the things these boys don't say to one another, because boy howdy, there are a lot of them. Cannot wait for these events to unfold. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle from the beginning on Ao3.

Chapter Seven

“Boston’ll lead the season, but the Yanks are gonna take the series.”

The opposite end of the line is filled with clutter, dead air looping through the tinny background noise of a television on full blast. There’s talking, and laughter, and finally Joe’s crackling voice to cut through it all. “Put it on the record that this is our best phrase yet,” he says. “Seriously. Music to my ears.”

Matt rolls his eyes, leaning tight against the wall. He counts on his body to hide the bulk of this conversation, and hopes his shadow can hide the rest. “Yeah, that reminds me,” he says. “You owe me a rematch. I’m still not convinced that last move was legal.”

“It is in Virginia,” Joe confirms. “And in all but six other states.”

“I meant, like, legal as it applies to the rules of darts,” Matt clarifies, “but it’s nice to know where our barroom shenanigans stand in the eyes of the commonwealth.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re a sore loser?”  

“Just my mama,” Matt answers. “And Danny Fisher, once, after he cheated his way through a potato sack race at the county fair.”

“Glad you’re not holding a grudge.”

“He didn’t go around the barrel, Joe.”

“Uh-huh.” It’s the same tone Joe always uses anytime Hay Springs gets mentioned, translated through thousands of miles of long distance calling. Rather than sit through another story from the Sheridan County Harvest Festival, Joe leads Matt toward more serious matters. Always so serious. “Is there a reason you called me? Or did you just need to get the Danny Fisher thing off your chest?”

With the promise of real and honest spycraft hanging over the line, Matt risks a subtle glance at one of the skillets hanging from the ceiling, checking his surroundings in the reflection. The Baxters are sealed inside their soundproof room, which Matt reckons is probably a blessing for everyone around. Rachel is locked in the cabin’s lone bathroom, with the shower to drown out anything he has to say.  In the adjoining living room, Townsend reads an old paper and pretends not to eavesdrop. That’s fine. Matt has something the kid wants and, for now, he’s probably too curious to sell out any details he might overhear.

It ain’t the most secure Matt’s ever been, but it’ll do. “I need some domestic backup,” he admits, catching on the conspiratorial sound of his own voice. He hasn’t noticed it until now, and it makes him feel like a rotten sneak. No wonder everyone thinks he’s trading secrets. “How’s your foot?”

Matt can practically hear the wind from Joe waving him off. “Forget about my foot.” Joe’s end of the line takes up a new rustling as Matt gets passed from one hand, to the other, then tucked into Joe’s shoulder. Matt’s listened to enough wiretapped feeds in his career to pick up on the faint ping of a pen pulled from its mug. The rip of an old message pad torn anew. Joe at the ready, for whatever Matt throws his way. “What do you need?”

Matt warns, “I’ve got something of a laundry list.”

And Joe insists, “I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.”

“S’not your hands I’m worried about.”

“Forget about my foot, already.”

That’s not likely, but Matt’s no fool. This is one of those moments Joe always tries to warn him about—a time when Matt needs to prioritize being a good spy over being a good friend. Fact is, he’s in a bind, and Joe is the only person he trusts to help him untangle these particular knots. “I need you to check my deposit box.”

Joe’s neat, military writing scratches through the line. “Which one?”

Another glance toward Townsend. Matt chooses his words carefully, passing along a puzzle only Joe can piece together. “The one with my passport in it.”

Back when Matt still made his living from listening to the Army’s persons of interest list, this was the sort of exchange that made the days run long. He’d spend hours trying to crack the unspoken, unofficial coded messages between rebel leaders and trusted advisors, agents and longtime informants, dealers and buyers with such clean operations that they could understand unknown depths of information after sharing just a few words. It never worked out in his favor, always ending in a plea to send an agent into the field for more insight. Codes like these exist outside of the vast mathematical reliability of ciphers and encryptions, and instead require minuscule context of a person’s day-to-day life. Codes like these don’t make any sense, unless a fella already knows that Matt banks at Washington National, and that he stowed away his honest passport three years ago at Joe’s recommendation, listing the account under Luke Andrews, with Zeke Rozelle as an authorized visitor.

 For Joe, it’ll be a ten minute walk to the train station, then a stroll downtown. For anyone else listening in, it would take weeks to comb through this kind of friendly shorthand, and even that wouldn’t do much. It’s surreal to stand on the other side of his old frustrations now, knowing that he and Joe could probably bring entire governments to a standstill without ever using a full sentence. Matt doesn’t have an Uncle Ben, but the words come to him anyway—with great power…

Joe doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ve got company?”

“Here?” Matt replies. “Always.”

“Friend or foe?”

“Can’t tell yet.”

Joe’s not a fan of this answer, but to be fair, Joe probably wouldn’t have liked any answer except doesn’t matter, already shook him. “Do you need me on a plane?”

“I need you,” Matt insists, “to check my box.”

“Fine,” he says, but there’s a double meaning to it. A not-so-subtle subtext that promises Joe will be on the next flight out if he senses even the slightest reason for it. “I’ll check the box. What am I looking for?”

“Just need you to verify the contents,” Matt tells him. “I’m hearing some chatter and I’m trying to figure out how much truth there is to it.”

This instruction is cryptic enough to keep Townsend’s prying ears out of the core of the conversation, but it does leave Joe in something of a guessing game. Fortunately, Joe’s always been pretty good at guessing, at least when it comes to Matt. “Chatter about your passport?” he says, first try. “What about it?”

Over Matt’s shoulder, Townsend’s newspaper crackles. He’s good. He’s got the timing down just right. Really looks like he’s reading. Matt still doesn’t buy it, and drops his voice even lower. “Rachel’s under the impression that the Soviets are buying identities,” he says. “She thinks mine is among them, but we haven’t been able to prove it yet.”

It’s not a question, when Joe says, “You think someone broke into your box. Stole your passport.”

“Maybe,” says Matt. “Or maybe they took the other one.”

Two passports, each bearing the name Matthew Morgan. One in his deposit box. One on file at Langley. Joe knows the details just as well as Matt does, so they’re just one more conversational shortcut away from the complete realization. “And if Rachel’s right—”

“—and Rachel’s always right—”

“—and if we find a passport in your box…”

Matt nods, even if Joe can’t see him. “Could be a lead.”

The pair of them have been chasing the Circle of Cavan long enough to see its leads come and go, but this one feels different. More direct. For years, Joe was the Circle’s most active agent inside the CIA, and every shred of evidence would lead back to him. An op he ran. A transcript he sold. A legend that never quite made it on the books. But Joe was never working alone, even if he rarely knew who he was working with. It takes more than one man to bring down an organization like the CIA, even if that man is Joe Solomon.

If the right passport has fallen into the wrong hands, this is a chance to put a face to his mysterious partners. To name them, find them, stop them. Static fills the line as Joe considers the news. More TV laughter rolls through the background, eerie and broken. “You told me this mission was Rachel,” he says, in the tone of a man who never would have let Matt go alone, had he known the stakes.

“It is Rachel,” Matt assures him, in the tone of a man who has it all handled, honest. “But it could also be”—he stumbles over eager words, stopping himself before he can say too much in front of present company—“bigger than Rachel.”

“Hold on.” Maybe because he doesn’t believe his ears, Joe temporarily forgoes their underhanded back-and-forth to ask outright, “You think Rachel Cameron is chasing the Circle of Cavan?”

This, admittedly, doesn’t seem quite right, with the way Joe lays it all out. Matt considers this, then finally lands on, “Unknowingly, maybe.”

Joe scoffs. It muffles up the line. “That woman has never done anything unknowingly.”

Matt bites back a smile, small but mighty. “Suppose you’re right about that.”

“Get her out of there, Matt. I’m serious.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“A lady like Rachel has no business with the Circle.”

“She’s not exactly the kinda person you can just give orders to.”

“She’s going to get herself killed. The only thing more dangerous than going after the Circle on purpose is going after the Circle on accident.”

“What am I supposed to do? Drag her kicking and screaming onto the first plane out of Russia?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Doesn’t seem very covert.”

“Look.” It’s one of those weighty, serious looks that Joe only pulls out when he really wants to get his point across. “Covert is the least of your concerns. She’s in this because of you, so you need to be the one to pull her out. She’s looking straight down the barrel and doesn’t even know it. It’s not right.”

Something interrupts the seamlessness of their conversation—a little blip of unrecognizable code that makes the whole thing hard to follow. Matt takes his best shot at cracking this new character in their shared alphabet. “What do you mean, she’s in this because of me?”

Whatever disconnect Matt’s feeling, Joe doesn’t seem to share it. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“This is her op,” Matt reminds him. “I didn’t pull her into this. She called me, remember?”

A pause. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“Not a chance,” Matt says. “I pull your leg, and your foot might fall right off.”

“Would you just—my foot is not that bad, okay?”

“What do you mean,” he tries again, “she’s in this because of me?”

There’s no small amount of deliberation on one other end of the line. Joe could fill oceans with all the things he never says, and he’s giving the Atlantic a damn good effort now. “Matt,” he says with a relenting sigh. “Now isn’t a good time to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two.”

Beers at a Williamsburg bar. A bruised jaw in Baltimore. A backless dress at the Bolshoi. Matt’s getting his wires crossed, and now a Joe conversation somehow triggers all of his Rachel shorthand. The years flash through his chest and send a twinge of that pesky and persistent want through every last nerve. “Going on?” he sputters, trying to reel his thoughts back to here and now. “Going on how—going on where? What do you mean, going on?”

“You know.” Joe’s voice gets all caught up in Matt’s flustered beat, and now they’re both off their usual rhythm. “C’mon, don’t—you know. I’m talking about that, I dunno, Sam and Diane thing you’ve got going with her.”

Matt officially doesn't recognize the shape of this conversation. Talking to Joe is always supposed to look and feel the same way, but this is something new. Matt’s not sure he cares for it. “Sam and Diane?” His nose twists up. “Who are you and what have you done with Joe?”

“Oh, lay off,” Joe drones. “NBC stuck a Cheers marathon at the end of the Orioles game, and the remote is on the other side of the room.”

What? “Since when do you watch the Orioles?”

“Since I broke my foot jumping onto a moving train and my buddy left me alone to go chase the Circle, apparently,” he says. “What are you, the TV police?”

“So you admit your foot is broken.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, wait, I’m sorry.” He thrashes around for a way to save the conversation, but he feels like a batter who’s just been told to run the bases backward. The best he can do is land back where Joe started and try to hit what’s getting pitched to him. “Sam and Diane. I’m supposed to be Sam?”

“You’re not Diane, are you?”

“Sam Malone is a pitcher.”

“That’s your problem with Sam Malone?” says Joe. “Not that he’s a drunk, and a fool, and a womanizer?”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

“Okay.” Joe accepts a small defeat in this tangential argument to take another shot at the one he actually cares about. “Well, I can’t tell you how you feel about Rachel—not least because I don’t know how you stand in the same room as that woman without wanting to punch your own lights out. She’s abrasive, and prideful, and she starts fights like she’s got stock in them.”

“Right,” says Matt, because this part of the conversation is straight over home plate. Joe doesn’t like Rachel. Sure. It’s so familiar, Matt could hit it straight out of the park.

“But,” Joe continues, and it’s got all the signs of a curve ball. “I can tell you that there’s no such thing as coincidences, especially not when it comes to Rachel. If she’s wrapped up in Circle dealings, it’s not because she’s going after them. It’s because she’s trying to cover you.”

Swing, and a miss.

It’s the same thing Grace had said, not even a full day earlier. She’s saving your ass, darling. From Grace, it had come at him from the outside, striking the surface of his awareness as something to take note of at some future date. When Joe says it, the sentiment starts at his center and climbs his guts like a cliff side. It’s urgent and suspended, old Circle calluses now shredded with fresh fears.

Of course Rachel is covering him. That’s what Rachel does. She covers Abby. She covers her father. And now she’s covering him, even if she has to do it blindly.

Don’t you care about me?

Of course I do.

Of course you do.

“Dammit,” Matt spits, low and resigned. It’s all Joe needs from him, but he throws in a bonus, “Goddammit,” for good measure. “She’s smarter than this.”

“Or just smart enough,” Joe amends. “For years, she’s been chipping away at you, trying to figure out what we’re up to. Maybe she decided she was better off coming at it from a different angle. It’s kind of impressive.”

“Yeah, well.” There’s a pulse in Matt’s jaw, right where his teeth grind together. “She’s an impressive kinda lady.”

“Get her out of there.”

“I know.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I know.”

Moscow has never felt so massive. Hours away from any border and even further from a friendly one, the vastness of the USSR stretches out in every direction. It’s one thing to risk his own hide with Circle business in the East. It’s another thing entirely to risk Rachel’s. The danger of it settles like a Russian winter down his spine, and all of a sudden he’s got an urge like he’s never had before, to run, run, run, with her hand clasped in his.

For the very first time, Matt has a top-down view of the complete playing field, while Rachel’s stuck strategizing from the bullpen. She’s too close to it. Too far in. The next call has to be his, and it has to be right. “Listen,” he says to Joe, and now he’s serious too. “Tonight. We were working the op and I saw a friend of yours.”

Matt’s got Townsend at his back. Passports in the bedroom. A redheaded agent who would do anything to get her package back. A plan begins to form in the back of his mind, rough around the edges but strong at its core. He’s got all the leverage he needs to help Joe. To call the Circle off Rachel’s scent. To put the focus back where it should be—on him. Only him. He started this fight, and he won’t have anyone else stepping in to take his punches. 

Joe takes a beat. There’s not a single sound on his end of the line. “I don’t have friends,” he says. “I’ve just got you.”

“The redhead,” Matt goes on. “From Wrigley.”

Now it’s Joe’s turn to let out a soft, “Dammit.”

“Do you have any idea what she’s doing—?”

“No.” He’s just short of a snarl. “This is the opposite of laying low.”

“You told her to lay low?”

“For a little while,” Joe confirms. “She got herself into some hot water a few months back, and she’s had to take some sketchy jobs to get out of it.”

“Yeah, I think I just walked into the middle of one.”

“She’s in Moscow?”

“Joe,” Matt says. “She’s delivering the damn passports.”

In the silence that follows, Matt finds space to wonder about an old question he’s never quite gotten an answer to. He’s always known about this girl—that she’s out there, that she’s working both sides, that she’s one of the few people Joe knows from his days with the Circle. But every time Matt brings her up, even as a possible Circle lead, Joe shuts him down. Waves him off. She’s not a threat, he’d say, and then move on. Matt doesn’t know how much they still work together. Doesn’t even know her name.

“She recognized me,” Matt continues. “Said we were on the same side—”

“You are not on the same side as her.”

“Someone ought to tell her that.”

“Fine.”

If Joe thinks this is the end of this conversation, he’s sorely mistaken. “Joe,” he says, as gently as he can muster. “Have you ever considered that maybe she’s—?”

“She’s not the leak.”

“How do you—?”

“Because I’m the one that leaks everything to her.”

This is the closest thing to background Matt’s ever gotten on the girl, so he keys in and listens up while Joe’s still in a talking mood. “She’s a go-between,” Joe admits. “An agent on the front lines. She’s got two jobs—deliver whatever information I’ve stolen, and don’t get caught. And they don’t tell her a damn thing, just in case she fails that second one.” Matt waits for more to come. After an uncomfortable moment, it does. “The Circle paired us together five years ago. But when I... when we—I started to slow down, and she had to find other work.”

Something clicks in Matt’s mind. “Which could explain why she’s in Moscow.”

“Whatever work she’s doing over there, I don’t know who’s giving it to her.”

“How about we find out?” Matt tries. “Can you get a message to her?”

“You’ve got bigger problems, cowboy.”

“I think I can hit two birds with one stone, on this one.”

If a fella spends enough time listening to phone lines, sooner or later he picks up the ability to hear beyond the background noise, and straight into the core of the call. That’s how Matt hears the hitched apprehension in Joe’s breath, the debate in the static, and the always subtle truth about Joe Solomon—that he wants out of the Circle more than he wants anything else. More than he wants Matt to come home safe. More than he wants Rachel out of Moscow. More than he wants his redheaded partner to lay low.

It’s begrudging, but Joe finally says, “What’s the message?”

Matt passes along a time and a place. In the reflection, Townsend’s eyes flash over the top of his paper, then quickly return to the act of performative reading. That’s fine. Matt’s not stupid enough to meet this girl without backup—the kid’s coming with him.

“And Matt?” Joe says. “Just… take it easy on her. She’s really not a threat.”

As someone who still has a thin, silver scar on his shoulder from where her bullet grazed him, Matt’s inclined to disagree. But he trusts Joe, and Joe trusts her, so maybe that’s enough for now. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

“And think about what I said,” he goes on. “About Rachel.”

“Right.” That’s enough of that. “Maybe I’ll call Henry, too. See if he knows anything.”

“About Rachel?”

“About where your friend is finding this extra work.”

“That makes more sense,” says Joe. “Don’t ask Henry about the Rachel thing.”

“Really don’t plan on it,” Matt insists. “Let me know about the deposit box.”

“Already on my way.”

Matt can think of at least a dozen more requests—record the Royals game, pick up some milk, go to a doctor, check on his parents just in case. But the shower isn’t running anymore, Townsend’s reached the end of his pages, and this call was never truly covert to begin with. 

Still, Matt has one more question that he just can’t seem to shake. “Joe?” he says. “What’s her name?”

It takes Joe long enough to answer that Matt wonders if Joe’s already hung up, and he’s talking into dead air. “Her name is Catherine,” he finally says. “Catherine Goode.”

[spicysix]

I posted 5,337 times in 2022

That's 5,224 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (1%)

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Blogs I reblogged the most:

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#stranger things - 748 posts

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Longest Tag: 126 characters

#while i had to do that with every other show and movie on phase 4 so far (except for shang chi and eternals too. coincidence?)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

9. knitted sweater | steve harrington X reader

Steve knew you could knit. You’ve been knitting stuff for him ever since you got together. It was no surprise you would knit him a Christmas sweater, it was the obvious outcome.

However, you did not predict he would learn how to knit a sweater to gift back to you.

So when he handed you the package, you couldn’t help but weep at what was inside.

“I’m sorry it’s not as good as yours,” he had the audacity to apologize.

You just threw yourself at him, tears running down your face, heart swelled with pride.

“It’s perfect, love. Thank you.”

58 notes - Posted December 9, 2022

#4

long story short (part 3/3) | eddie munson x reader

this fic is part of a series: masterlist

summary: “Oh, is this a date I’m having with pantry girl?” He provoked, but you just nodded in response. “Can be if you want it to.” He actually looked shocked for a moment before bringing his charm back. “Does that mean I get to kiss you at the end of it?”

warnings: fem!reader - no physical description. no use of y/n. post s4 - canon divergence. heavy making-out, implied smut (not described).

word count: 2.3k

a/n: final part ot long story short! next up we're having 'tis the damn season. if you're familiar with miss Swift, you must imagine some angst is about to come 👀 it's gonna be another multi-chapter so if you wanna get everything as it comes out, don't forget to follow me and join my taglist 😉

day seven

12:48 p.m. The next few days after Eddie’s press conference/public audience had you going back and forth between Hawkins and Fort Wayne. The house your family was going to move to was not yet vacant, their previous owners still finishing up their own moving. But they allowed you to bring in some boxes to leave in their basement already, and Hopper had to empty the cabin for the Munsons anyway, so that’s what you were all mostly doing. With the destruction caused by the Mind Flayer last July, there wasn’t even much stuff salvageable to bring to Fort Wayne, but you were taking what you could carry.

You also took some time to visit Debrah, spend a day catching up with her. She did most of the talking, since her life wasn’t filled with trauma caused by interdimensional monsters (just some weird burning cracks in the middle of the town, but they were being taken care of already), and you were happy to listen to it. She was attending the local district Community College, not that far away from Hawkins, and wasn’t planning on moving any day now. Still a cheerleader, still planning on meeting the one there and living the american dream with him. You guessed she was just one of those people whose lives revolved around the minuscule city they were born and raised on. She wasn’t gonna leave that cycle. Well, if she was happy, great for her, you thought. A dose of normalcy was always good, to keep your feet grounded.

You only saw Eddie a few times those days, when you were leaving or coming to the hotel. Sometimes you also had lunch together - but it was never only the two of you. Part of you felt happy, because he was really hitting off with your family, the ones he hadn’t met yet, and seeing him and Will excitedly exchanging tips about D&D made your heart swell with fondness in a way you already knew would happen when you first met Eddie and told him about your little brother. He was also exchanging stories about getting high and exchanging tips about weed with Jonathan, but that was not nearly as adorable.

But it was your last day in Hawkins before you went back to California, Argyle’s Surfer Boy van cleaned and repaired for another three-day trip. You had a job back home that you were sure you’d lost already at this point, so you would have to find another one when you got there - to help with all the moving costs after your semester was over. You had no idea how Jon, Will and El would deal with their schools, but you had called some of your colleagues and asked them to talk to your teachers. You had good grades and no other classes missed since the beginning of college, so you were mostly sure none of them would care for your minor two-week absence.

Your biggest issue so far was that you already had a summer job hitched and your part of your next college tuition already paid (the other two thirds were thankfully covered by a scholarship) and wouldn’t be able to move back to Hawkins with the rest of your family on Summer. And you hadn’t told anyone that yet.

Well, that was a problem for future you.

You knocked on the door of room 107 as your family walked past you on the corridor, bidding you a ‘see you soon’. Jonathan throwing you a knowing smirk over his shoulder and you just flipped him the bird over yours.

Eddie opened the door, a faded Star Trek shirt and sweatpants hanging low from his hips. His hair all disheveled, looking like a cloud on a stormy day around his head. He smiled instantly at seeing you.

“Wanna grab lunch?” You invited.

02:09 p.m. First thing Eddie asked when you got to the diner was when the rest of your family would arrive. “They’re not coming, it’s just the two of us.” You answered.

“Oh, is this a date I’m having with pantry girl?” He provoked, but you just nodded in response.

“Can be if you want it to.”

He actually looked shocked for a moment before bringing his charm back. “Does that mean I get to kiss you at the end of it?”

“If you don’t eat something too garlicky, sure.” You winked and he laughed.

That was several minutes ago, and as you paid your half of the bill over the counter and Eddie rambled on about how Reefer Rick should hire a bugs exterminator to his lake house (how he got to that topic, honestly, you had no idea. But you liked hearing him ramble), you started to feel the butterflies in your stomach thinking if he was going to kiss you or not.

It was a long time due.

You walked back to the hotel, not that far away from the diner, in the slow pace you were already used to - for the sake of Eddie’s recovering injuries. His shoulder touched yours at every step, your pinkies intertwined at some point, and you felt like an eighth grader and her first crush.

You weren’t talking, just enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was dead set on that kiss he promised. You wondered if he was thinking about it too.

As you reached your hallway, his door was the closest and you really, really didn’t want this to be over. So you were bold enough to ask, “How ‘bout we watch something?”

You didn’t have much to pack, your ‘bag’ (if you could call it that, it was just a backpack) practically ready to go, and you were leaving first thing in the morning. You really wanted to enjoy those last few hours with him.

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60 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

#3

long story short (part 2/3) | eddie munson X reader

this fic is part of a series: masterlist

summary: “I’ve thought about you every day.” He whispered, his eyes were deep into yours. “For five months?” You doubted. “For five months.” He stated. “I’ve thought about your laugh. About your eyes. Your cheer uniform.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile before he went serious again. “Your kiss…”

warnings: fem!reader - no physical description. no use of y/n. post s4 - canon divergence. spoilers, i guess: max is not in a coma and eleven killed vecna and closed the portals because i said so. angst with a happy ending.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: is it considered a slow burn if they've kissed before? 👀 i'm sorry i'm too wordy on this. this is not betaed! english is not my first language. if there are any absurd mistakes please let me know. if you enjoy, please reblog and comment! 💞 you can also join my taglist. and this story has a playlist!

day five

08:31 a.m. You felt like absolute shit.

The promise you’ve made to Eddie had been broken. And it obviously wasn’t even your choice.

After Eddie woke up and the officers called the doctors, you stayed on the hallway paying attention to everything you could hear through the almost-closed door. Wayne also passed you some information after it was over. But Eddie had been in pain, of course, he was basically eaten alive by interdimensional bats, and after being assessed by the doctor - Eddie would stay one more day in ICU and then be transferred to a normal room - the painkillers made him sleep again.

You even stayed longer than that, past sunrise waiting for him to wake up so you could talk again, but then Hopper showed up with the police this time to explain Eddie’s… criminal circumstances. And you wanted to stay until after they’ve cleared his room, but Hop told you your mom was waiting for you back in the hotel and that it was indispensable that you be there as soon as you could.

So you went, of course.

And you couldn’t come back to the hospital because your mom simply rented your ears off (and Will’s, and Jonathan’s, and Eleven’s) to explain that she and Hopper were now a thing - wow, shocking! - and you would all move in together (talk about fast pacing). She asked Jonathan to take the kids to the Wheeler’s and to make sure they were safe at all times. And she took you on a race to find a house that rose up to hers and Hopper’s expectations.

And that took you both three whole fucking days. Because after seeing a few houses in Hawkins on day one, your mom decided she actually didn’t want to stay in Hawkins anymore and move to Fort Wayne instead (it was still close to and bigger than Hawkins, but not nearly as big as Indianapolis). And then you had to stay with the kids on day two, allowing Jonathan to spend time with his girlfriend, while your mom and Hopper found the perfect house. And on day three, as Hop came back to work, you went with her to Fort Wayne to close the deal on the house.

Yeah, that was exhausting.

When you were finally free to come see Eddie again, you had to get his new room number with Dustin, and you bought chocolates and flowers to bring with you. You hoped he liked chocolates. And flowers. And you hoped he wasn’t too mad at you.

As you reached his floor, there was now only one officer guarding his room. And he said that more than one person was allowed now. Wayne was in there already, of course, and Eddie was asleep.

Standing by the door, you greeted mister Munson and he turned to you at the sound of your voice. “Oh hello. There’s his angel.”

“His what now?” You asked and he chuckled.

“He keeps saying you’re his guarding angel who woke him up to ‘see the light of life again’.” Wayne made air quotes. “Both me and that curly kid tried telling him you were very much real, but he wouldn’t take it because you’ve promised you would come back to see him. And you hadn’t.” His expression wasn’t exactly stern, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either.

The guilt bubbled up in your stomach once more. “I’m really sorry, mister Munson, my mom dragged me to some family matters. I wish I could’ve come sooner.”

“I’m sure. You just gotta tell him that.” He looked at Eddie one more time before collecting his jacket from the armchair beside the bed. Only then you’ve noticed Eddie also wasn’t handcuffed anymore. Thank god - and Hopper - for that. “Don’t worry, he’s a forgiving guy.”

Wayne smiled softly at you before leaving the room. You walked further into the room, set the flowers and chocolate on his nightstand, and sat down in the armchair and took Eddie’s hand in yours.

His skin wasn’t cold anymore.

09:49 p.m. You were glad you had taken a book with you, because it took Eddie a while to finally wake up. You saw him stirring in bed from you peripheral before marking the page you were at and closing the book, tucking it back into your backpack on the floor. He was rubbing his eyes with his fists, and you adjusted in the armchair - only then he seemed to notice you.

He turned to face you. “Oh, pantry girl… You’re finally back?” His remark was dripping sarcasm, but his smile was friendly. You smirked back at him.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie. Mom dragged me with her to buy a house.”

“Oh, fancy!” He reached for a cup of water on his nightstand. “Look at that, thank you! Love expensive chocolate. And the flowers smell good from here.” He commented before drinking the water, and you smiled. You thought he would keep talking after drinking and setting the glass back on the table, but he didn’t.

“Did Dustin explain something to you? About… me?” You asked, playing nervously with your own fingers.

See the full post

72 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#2

it's time to go | eddie munson X reader

summary: "You took a few more breaths, feeling your heart calm down and you skin grow colder, but those resting symptoms were easily thrown out the non-existent window the second your eyes were open. Because two feet in front of you crouched down Eddie Munson, a cookie he stole halfway to his mouth as he dumbly looked at you, his own dark brown eyes wide as he seemed paralyzed from getting discovered."

warnings: fem!reader - use of "princess", "lady", "sweetheart". no use of y/n. post-S3, pre-S4. fluffy fluffy fluffy. also kinda angsty - i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 5.1k words

a/n: eddie munson brain rot is real. he's got a tight hold on me. english is not my first language! sorry for any mistakes, this is not betaed (we die like chrissy). also my first eddie fic! also! my first fic in english! also! my first fic ever posted on tumblr. go easy on me, please 🥺 rb and comment if you like! you can also join my taglist! and this story has a playlist!

08:23 p.m. You almost got knocked over by a couple randomly crossing from one wall to another to continue their make out session without even separating their mouths. You cringed just a bit, stopped for a second to let them get comfortable and continued marching through the corridor. You knew the house, you’ve been there once or twice for a Science project you’ve been coupled with the house owner - Brenda Chapman. She was on your cheer squad, and you’ve seen her today just once, dancing on top of a table with a drink in hand while her boyfriend massaged her calves and looked at her like she was a goddess descending from the sky. You kind of envied that.

Anyway, the point was that you knew the house, so you knew the pantry was all the way in the back of the corridor, the last door to the left - it was a smaller door, too, and almost the exact same color as the walls. Very discreet, so you knew that no one else would notice it enough to try and enter it, not with that much alcohol going through their veins.

You were sweating a bit, could feel your blood running hot under your skin. Your hair was probably moist and messy but at this point you just didn’t care anymore.

The door squeaked softly as you passed through it with your eyes already halfway closed, and as you closed the door behind you and rested against it with your head low, your lids went down all the way. You could feel your eyes burning a little, the panic in your head wanting to be released through tears, but you took a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want to cry and ruin the little makeup you had on, it was enough that the rest of your look was already - probably - in shambles.

With your eyes still closed you patted the door behind you until you found the lock, thankfully there was a key in place that you turned until you heard the soft click that indicated the door was locked.

You took a few more breaths, feeling your heart calm down and you skin grow colder, but those resting symptoms were easily thrown out the non-existent window the second your eyes were open. Because two feet in front of you crouched down Eddie Munson, a cookie he stole halfway to his mouth as he dumbly looked at you, his own dark brown eyes wide as he seemed paralyzed from getting discovered.

You wanted to scream from the scare, but you didn’t want to be discovered too, so you just gasped quietly. He did the same and slowly rose up to a standing position, like he was trying not to scare you away.

“Uh… I’m sorry?” He half apologized, half asked, confusion so clear in his feature. He tucked the cookie back in its package, placed it back on a shelf and cleaned his hands in his dark jeans pants. You could see some of the flour crumbles flying away.

Apparently he knew who the house owner - Brenda Chapman - was, and knew you weren’t her. Otherwise, you think, he would’ve said sorry for, you know, being inside her pantry and eating her cookies, not for scaring you. You wandered if he knew who you truly were.

You hoped he didn’t.

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, and tried to smile but knew at the same moment it probably looked more like a grimace. “What are you hiding from?”

“A fight. I may or may not have denied this jock guy something he wanted to buy to…” He hesitated. You kept your facial expression as neutral as you could.

“Get high?” You suggested. You knew he sold drugs. Who didn’t?

“Well, to get his girlfriend high. Without her explicit consent, I believe.” His eyes turned away from yours. “Anyway, he was pissed, yelled at me and tried to punch me, I guess? I shoved him back and just came running inside - we, uh, we were outside in the garden. It’s where I usually stay when, you know, selling illicit substances to jocks who hate me but also can’t live without me. Or my products. Or whatever.”

He was rambling. He looked nervous. His eyes didn’t stay put, cruising around the cluttered space you were both caged in. And on you, and on what you figured was your cheerleader uniform - Debrah made you wear it.

So he thought you were one of them, maybe.

Well, you were. But, also, you weren’t.

“Yeah, sounds just about right. They can be very hypocritical.” You tried to calm him again. Yourself was already calm again after the scare, being away from the crowd and loud noises at the party was enough to tame your heartbeat.

It looked like your reassurance worked again, his eyes instantly flew to yours and he took a calm, but deep breath. He was good at disguising it, but you were also a very good people reader and knew the look on his face as a soft, surprised relief.

You thought he would continue the conversation around dumb jocks, but he didn’t. “What are you hiding from?” He retorted, tilting his head a little.

“Everything. Everyone.” You shrugged. Your eyes were no longer meeting his. “Didn’t want to be here, if I’m being honest.”

“Then why are you?”

You didn’t want to tell him the whole truth. It shook you up just thinking about it. So you shrugged again.

“My friend kind of forced me. I figured I owed her a favor for putting up with my grumpy ass, so I just gave in.”

There was a small smile on your lips - a real smile now, not just a grimace - and he smiled back at you, much wider. Debrah was a nice girl. You did owe her, she had never asked much from your friendship, never complained about the fact that you probably were kind of a terrible friend. A party was nothing based on everything she had - or, hadn’t? - been through with you.

See the full post

85 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

long story short (part 1/3) | eddie munson X reader

this fic is part of a series: masterlist

summary: "Eddie’s pale face was still all you could see. It had completely replaced all your other usual haunting images - Will’s funeral, his screams as your mom turned up the heaters, that demogorgon feasting on Bob’s limp body, El’s shriek in pain as Jon tried to pull a piece of the Mind Flayer from her leg. Probably because you knew they were safe now, out of the woods. But Eddie wasn’t."

warnings: fem!reader - no physical description. no use of y/n. post s4 - canon divergence. spoilers, i guess: max is not in a coma and eleven killed vecna and closed the portals because i said so. angst with a happy ending.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is not betaed! english is not my first language. if there are any absurd mistakes please let me know. i dunno how many parts this will have, but i promise to try not to take too long to post the rest. if you enjoy, please reblog and comment! 💞 you can also join my taglist. and this story has a playlist!

day one

09:19 a.m. His arms were tight around you, grounding you, comforting you - and you wished you were giving all that reassuring back just the same.

“It was so scary.” He said, quivering a bit. You pulled him even closer, as close as you could. “I was so scared. So scared. I didn’t think we would walk out alive. I really didn’t.” You felt his tears wetting your sweater. He was almost hurting you from all the strength he was putting into his lithe arms.

You closed your eyes, attempting to block out the images trying to form in your head - nothing you’ve actually seen, but your imagination was never one to be shy. But you had to stay strong, to not let creations of your mind frighten you, because you had to reassure him. He had to trust you.

You breathed deep before answering him. “I can only imagine, love. But we’re here now. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Everyone’s here. We’re safe. You’re safe.”

Lucas let go of you after another final squeeze and a sniff, and you turned around to properly see everyone else. The room was crowded, filled with so many people. The smell of disinfectant was uncomfortable, but the sight of all your friends united again melted your heart.

Max was awake now, still very shaken but much better than what you thought she would be. Both her legs were on casts and you couldn’t begin to imagine what that recovery would be like. The poor girl… But at least she was alive, that’s what you kept saying to yourself over and over.

Lucas went back to his seat in front of the window as you, El, Will and Jon went closer to the bed the redhead was lying on. The younger ones shared a hug, your siblings being careful not to hurt their friend.

Your hand went to her fire hair in a caress and she turned to you. “I’m so happy y’all are here.” She said, her voice a little dragged probably from all the medication she was on.

“We’re very glad too.” She reciprocated the smile you gave her as her eyes closed from the gentle touch on her head.

09:44 a.m. Not long after that, as the kids were catching up and resting on Max’s room, you gathered with all the older ones in the hospital cafeteria as you recounted everything that had happened since march 21st. The Cali crew, as you were calling yourself and your family (plus Argyle, bless his heart) went first, taking turns in explaining. You tried your best to retell everything El had described to you from the time she was on Nina, but told the others if they wanted they could ask her more about it later. The important part was that it was there that she learned about Henry/Vecna/001 and when she got her powers back.

As the Hawkins crew started their own version, some blanks in your story were beginning to be filled in. You felt bad about Chrissy, she was a very sweet girl from the little you knew her from the cheer squad. Another one of those rare pieces amongst so many rotten people who thought social status in high school was the most important thing ever.

“…and then! Dustin and Max were busting into Family Video and basically kidnapping our phones because they wanted to find where the supposed killer was, because they were already sure whatever was done to Chrissy was not made by human hands!” Robin had been monologuing for a few minutes already, but all of you were used to it at this point. She had no pause button.

“Didn’t help that the guy was Dustin’s friend. He was doubly worried.” Steve was able to interrupt his coworker, rolling his eyes. “Mike and Lucas also know the guy. He’s the leader from their dragons dungeon thing.”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” You corrected. Steve murmured ‘whatever’.

Nancy’s brows were furrowed and she was looking at her hands intertwined with Jonathan’s on her lap as she spoke. “Poor Eddie. Thrown into it head first. He did not deserve any of this.”

Your heart stopped.

I mean, there could be other Eddies in Hawkins. Of course it could. But why was the feeling in your gut so sickening?

“What’s his name now?” You asked. Your voice was trembling, and Jonathan immediately turned to look at you. He knew you too well.

“Eddie Munson. He’s a triple senior. Sells drugs.” Steve answered.

Fuck.

Fuckity-fucking-fuck.

Your heartbeat was a thousand miles per hour, your mouth was suddenly dry and for some reason your longs were no longer capable of doing their job.

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111 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

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[stinkrascal]

—

TRANSCRIPT

picture one anastasia: guys? guuuuuuys? [ groans ] they said they’d be here... vaughn: hey, annie! back here! caspian: ...

picture two anastasia: you guys! YOU GUYS! i need your undivided attention immediately! vaughn: oh, yeah? anastasia: yes! listen! listen! i literally have such good—

picture three anastasia: oh my god, you look different. you look so different!

picture four caspian: ...yeah. anastasia: it’s all gone! you didn’t tell me you were gonna cut your hair. you look nice! caspian: ...thanks. vaughn: what about me? [ snorts ] always complimenting him. i don’t look nice too? anastasia: whatever, vaughn, you literally didn’t even do anything different to your appearance. i bet you’ve been wearing that shirt all week, stinky. vaughn: no! i showered yesterday. anastasia: you’re supposed to do that every day.

picture five anastasia: ugh, this isn’t important, you guys are distracting. stop distracting me���listen, listen, i literally have such good news. we’re going camping! caspian: camping? anastasia: yeah, my parents already said it was totally cool to invite you guys! you’re gonna go, right, caspian? caspian: ...never been camping before.

picture six anastasia: so you gotta come with us then! you gotta, cassie. it’s this weekend, so it shouldn’t affect your work schedule. you’ll go, right, cassie? caspian: i...i can go, if you want. vaughn: we’re gonna be in a tent? anastasia: no, my parents own a cabin in granite falls. vaughn: they got bears in granite falls? anastasia: i dunno. maybe. vaughn: fuck, yeah. i fuck with bears. i’m totally in. anastasia: good! we’re gonna have so much fun!

picture seven vaughn: fuck, yeah, we are. [ grins ] i gotta text my man, let him know i’ll be gone. anastasia: your what?! nobody told me about this! vaughn: okay, listen, we’re not actually together, but, like, we basically are, you know? anastasia: vaughn! i wanna see him! let me see him! show me a picture! vaughn: alright, bet.

picture eight vaughn: you better hit your lady up, too, cas. anastasia: your what? caspian? you too?! caspian: ...dunno what you’re talking about. vaughn: ah, whatever, man, stop being such a bitch! you’re down so fucking bad. caspian: no. we’re just talking. vaughn: talking. right. riiiiiight. anastasia: caspian, you didn’t tell me about this! ugh, you guys literally suck, why don’t you ever tell me things? caspian: [ murmurs ] ...really are just talking.

picture nine anastasia: whatever, caspian, you’re on thin ice. caspian: damn. anastasia: damn, vaughn, this is your guy? vaughn: what? anastasia: he literally looks like the joker. vaughn: what? no he doesn’t, dumbie. anastasia: dumbie? i’ll literally kill you. his hair is literally green. he’s wearing purple eyeshadow. he looks like he’s gonna talk about how we live in a society. vaughn: he’s so hot, annie. anastasia: i didn’t know you liked clowns so much.

picture ten vaughn: speak for yourself, with that red ass nose! anastasia: my nose blush is so cute! you literally love my nose blush! caspian, back me up here. caspian: ...yeah. anastasia: no, better than that! caspian: [ sighs ] it’s cute. okay? anastasia: exactly! thank you! finally, someone with some sense around here. vaughn: [ snorts ] fuckin’ simp. caspian: no.

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 1; Alone

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Here’s the first chapter! Let me know what you think <3 this is based off of this request I got. Any and all feedback is appreciated. Please know I know this theme/part has little to nothing to do with the actual meaning of the song, but some lines work if you ignore the rest 😅

Summary; After Gideon leaves, Reader takes up chess to comfort Spencer through the difficult time.

Category; Fluff, Angst(?), Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings; Sad Spencer otherwise none!

Word Count; 3.5k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next

It started when I found Spencer one morning. He had fallen asleep on a chair at the bau, and he explained to me that he’d been waiting for Gideon because he promised to play chess with Spencer that night.

“Is Hotch in yet?”

“No, he will be soon. We have a case, JJ is gonna brief us and we leave in 30.”

He thanked me and left the room, with his head down. He kept the same mood during the briefing, he kept drifting off as JJ was talking. Spencer was known to be stuck in his head often, but this was far more unusual behaviour. I figured maybe he slept wrong, or maybe just was simply looking forward to playing chess with Gideon. That was their usual routine, to have a game or two after cases to relax. It was understandable to see him on edge after not hearing from him all night.

As we got on the jet he didn’t sit with me on the couch right away as he usually did, instead he walked over to Hotch in the back corner. I craned my neck to try and see what he was doing and hear what he was saying. He spoke in soft whispers, seemingly asking questions I assumed were about Gideon’s presence. I saw Hotch shake his head, to which Spencer’s expression dropped. He thanked him, then made his way over to the couch beside me.

“You okay?” I asked.

He gave me a quick nod -- yet didn’t meet my eyes -- then curled up at the end of the couch to presumably take a nap before we landed.

We were all worried about Gideon, none of us had heard from him since the last case. We figured he just needed a break from the chaos; having a loved one die would take a toll on any of us. It was logical really, any one of the team would need time to recover when presented with that situation.

Spencer remained more quiet throughout the case, not engaging in conversation when it wasn’t crucial to the work. We ended up sharing rooms but even then he didn’t budge. He mostly sat in the corner and played chess against himself, often zoning out and staring at the wall. It was hard to see, and even harder to sit back and let him try to get through it. I could tell he was fighting himself in his head, probably going over scenarios on Gideon’s whereabouts. I imagine the stress was affecting him heavily -- or at least it was clear with the way his forehead had been creased all night.

Chess. Nobody on the team had a fair shot at him besides Gideon. Sitting there staring at the pieces probably wasn’t doing him too good, only making him worry more.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care because I did, but when it comes to certain things Spencer can be defensive and refuse help, so I wanted to give him a chance to get better. It wasn’t unlike him to refuse help, and I didn’t want to make the situation worse by opening my mouth. Instead, I opted to ask, “Mind if I join in for a game?”

“What? Uh- no it’s fine. I mean, okay yes. Sure,” Spencer stuttered, spooked by my sudden appearance beside him.

“Stop slouching, you’re gonna make your posture even worse,” I chuckled lightly, patting his shoulder to remind him. He shot me a small smile, watching as I rounded the table to sit across from him. I wasn’t too good of a player, but I wanted to make Spencer feel just a little less alone.

“Do you even know how to play?”

“Ouch,” I mocked offense, slapping a hand over my heart. “So cruel, Spencer.”

He raised his eyebrows in a form of asking again, to which I replied with, “Kind of. I haven’t played for years but I’ve observed you.”

“Y-you’ve observed me?” Spencer questioned, resetting the chess pieces on the board.

“Well, yeah. Kind of hard not to. You’re a pretty interesting guy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

I smiled when he finally made eye contact with me. He looked tired -- more so than usual -- with his eyebags a deeper shade than they were normally.

The game didn’t last long. In only seven minutes, he managed to beat me. I groaned at my loss, lips pulled into a tight line. Spencer didn’t react, however.

“Okay that’s enough for me,” I said, heading over to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. “Goodnight Spence. Get some sleep. No offense but you look like you need it.”

He hummed at me, cleaning up the table before he climbed into his own bed.

I could tell he didn’t sleep much that night, as he kept a lamp on and littered his bed with various books. He looked cute, all swaddled up in the blanket he brings with him on every case for a sense of stability. His glasses were perched on his nose, and he was chewing his fingernails -- a habit I’ve tried to get him to kick over the past two years.

We didn’t talk during the night, but we both knew that each other were awake. I was kept up by my thoughts, trying to figure out how to get Spencer out of his slump. Re-learning how to play chess seemed like a decent enough idea -- yet one that would take some time. I was proved tonight that my skill needed to be greatly improved. It was nice in the moment, but realistically it would take a few weeks, if not more, to get the hang of.

The next day at the precinct I was stationed at the map, trying to figure out our geographical profile. I heard faint chattering coming from outside, and looked over my shoulder to see Spencer and Derek talking. I couldn’t hear much, but I did get that Spencer mumbled about calling Gideon, to which Derek answered that he might’ve just missed the call. It was possible, but likely deeper than that.

“Six times? Six calls? Something’s wrong,” Spencer sighed, rubbing his eyes.

I didn’t intervene with the conversation, instead deciding to finally speak to him about it after the case had ended.

On the last day, we all headed to our rooms after grabbing some dinner, to get a good rest before we took off early the next morning.

“Hey Spence, you awake?”

He hummed in response, and I could hear the rustle of the sheets as he rolled over in his bed to face me.

“I know you’re worried about Gideon. How about when we get back tomorrow I’ll drive you down to his cabin? We can go check on him.

“Would you really?” he asked softly. I couldn’t see him fully in the darkness, but I could sense he was looking at me with pleading eyes.

“Of course. I don’t like seeing you this stressed and down. I want to help.”

“Thanks ____, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

After our conversation it was like a blanket of grey was lifted over his head. He settled in more, drifting off to sleep within minutes. I hated seeing him sad, and I did my best to try and fix his mood whenever I could. Spencer didn’t like change, I knew that, and the team knows that. A part of me had a sneaking suspicion that Gideon wasn’t coming back, and I had fear for what that would mean for Spencer.

-----

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked, pulling up in front of the cabin and turning off the engine. The only sounds were the faint hum of rain outside, splattering against the windows.

Spencer shook his head and took a deep breath, before unbuckling himself and opening his door. He mumbled something about being right back, as he headed off towards the building. It wasn’t dark yet -- only being four pm -- but it wasn’t too light either.

It looked as if the lights inside the cabin were off, and I could just hardly see Spencer as he knocked on the door. He waited on the porch for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would come to the door.

Nobody did.

It was hard to just sit there and watch, as his desperation grew stronger by the millisecond.

-----

I took deep breaths, trying to even out my intake of air and remain calm. When nobody answered the fifth time that I knocked, I reluctantly grabbed a hold of the knob and turned it. Much to my surprise the door opened, creaking inch by inch as I stood there unmoving.

“Gideon?” I called into the home, taking one step inside. “Jason?”

I wasn’t greeted with an answer, he didn’t come to the door and thank me for coming to visit. It was eerily quiet -- so quiet I took a few more steps inside to create some sort of volume.

“Hello?” I spoke again, louder this time. Shutting the door behind me I took off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the entrance.

The place had been mainly cleared out, there weren’t many personal items behind. I stalked over to the kitchen, to see if there was any trace of someone within the last few days. It’s been officially a week and a half since anyone had last heard from him that I was aware of. I thought someone must have eaten, or at least left a bit of a mess behind them that would signal a presence.

As I turned the corner to enter the new room I noticed something on the table. I stopped in my tracks, leaning down to take a closer look.

Gideon’s badge, gun, and an envelope.

I swallowed thickly, walking around the table and took a seat in front of the items. When I saw the envelope had my name on it, my heart dropped. With shaky hands I picked up the paper and opened it, seeing there was a letter inside.

Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.

You must be frightened, I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then I also never envisioned writing this letter. I’ve searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I’m doing, all I’ve come up with is: a profiler needs to have solid footing. I- I don’t think I do anymore. The world confuses me. The cruelty, indifference, tragedy.

I stopped there, my eyesight becoming blurry from tears. I shoved the letter in my pocket, not caring at the moment if it got crumpled or not.

I was out of the cabin in no time -- choosing not to stay there and sulk in a deeper sadness.

-----

Waiting in the car for Spencer felt like torture. It was difficult, letting him go in there alone to be met with possibly no answers. I was thrown out of my thoughts by the sound of the cabin door slamming shut, Spencer jogging over to the car.

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, red flags hanging immediately as he climbed in the car, tear soaked face pointed down towards his lap. It took me a moment to realize he was crying -- the rain had completely soaked through his top layer of clothes. He didn’t reply with words, instead reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a piece of paper. He handed it over to me, still not meeting my eyes.

I unfolded it and began to read -- it was hard, through the tear stains smudging the ink across the page.

“Oh, Spence…” I whispered and stopped after the first few sentences, leaving the rest for him. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him.

“He’s gone,” Spencer sniffled, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his nearly drenched jacket. “He just left. He didn’t say goodbye. He left me a note,” he froze, taking a few deep breaths. “Just like my dad did when I was a kid.”

“It’ll be okay. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s okay,” I assured him. “You know he cares about you, right?”

“I know he is. It’s just-” he started, trying to find the right words between his gasping for more air. “Can you just take me home, please.”

I nodded, while turning the car back on to drive away. Spencer kept his gaze towards the window, refusing to let me see his face. I’m selfishly almost glad for it, because I don’t know if seeing his heartbreak is something I could handle.

It was a long, quiet drive, taking around an hour and a half to finally reach his apartment. He scrambled out of the car fast, but I still walked him up as I usually did. He got to the door before me, thanking me for driving him home. He shut the door just as I got fully up the stairs, leaving me standing with my mouth open.

‘Baby, when you fought me at the door

Kinda hard to force what's natural

Maybe you don't want what you need most’

-----

The next day when he came over after work he was almost back to normal. It was weird to see, to see such a shift in his behaviour after less than twenty-four hours. As much as he tried to hide it, I could tell just how hard it was for him. The sudden change didn’t go well with anyone, we’d all been informed that Gideon wouldn’t be returning and that he’d moved on from the BAU. It was especially hard on Spencer too, since Elle had just left not too long ago, and then Emily joined the team. First he loses a friend, someone who truly understood him as I did, and then someone he considered a father figure.

And neither of them had said goodbye to his face. It was scary, knowing a member of your team could walk out and never return before you know it.

We were seated on the couch, a game of chess displayed on the middle cushion between us.

It wasn’t anywhere near a fair game -- Spencer’s skills were still far ahead of mine. However I noticed it made him smile, and that’s all I wanted. For him to feel loved, and secured. It was a sense of grounding, a routine that was regular in his life. I still wasn’t very good -- not having played since high school and that night on the last case. But I downloaded an audiobook and several player’s guides for the plane ride home to study, because I wanted to learn for Spencer’s sake. However I soon realized it was easier to watch Spencer and how he plays, and to ask him questions. He seemed to enjoy it, having someone else in his life to play with.. And he loved to teach, to help people learn. He was so good at it too, his big brain being used to help people no matter the context.

Eventually he won the game as usual, causing me to groan in frustration..

“You bastard.”

“Not my fault you kinda suck,” he laughed bashfully, lips curling up into a small smile. It was nice to see a bit of happiness on his face, no matter how temporary.

“You’re so rude to me,” I joked, moving the board to the coffee table. “I thought we were friends.”

It was silent for a few moments, with me figuring out what I was going to say next.

“Spencer I know you haven’t wanted my help, but please tell me what I can do for you. Tell me how you feel, at least?”

‘Maybe you don't want what you need most’

“It’s nothing, ____,” he breathed, looking away from me and instead at the wall the couch was facing. He could see our reflection on the blank tv, and instead opted to just look down at his lap. “I’m better now.”

‘You ain't even there for me

Now you're scared to be alone’

“Respectfully, that’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on. I know you don’t want to talk about this but at least give me something. Don’t keep it all in. It’s not healthy.”

His face screwed up at my words, eyebrows furrowed and lips twitching. I could tell he knew I was right, as much as he hated it.

“I’m just- I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Spencer whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

‘Got me thinkin' that you scared of yourself, not me’

It all made sense -- the way he’d been distancing himself lately. It took me promising candy and Star Trek for him to come over tonight, and even then he almost declined. Too many blows to the heart made him afraid to get attached. He didn’t want anyone else from his life to disappear in a flash.

“Look at me,” I said, and he snapped his head to face me. “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t claim to be far in the future, but right now? I’m here. You’re stuck with me for a while, Spencer.”

He smiled, closing his eyes as a stray tear graced across his cheek. I used my thumb to wipe it away, and pulled him into a tight hug. He relaxed against me, I felt the tensions in his shoulders deflate as I held him.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. His breath shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around my middle tighter, pushing his face into my shoulder to muffle his crying.

We sat for a while, my hands tracing patterns along his back. It took a few minutes for his cries to calm down, but eventually his breathing evened out with only a few hiccups here and there. He was practically sitting in my lap with his legs flung over mine, suddenly not caring about his personal space. I couldn’t blame him -- the boy was so touch starved he so clearly craved all contact he consented to.

“Do you want to spend the night?” I asked, quietly so I didn’t scare him with the sudden sound.

“Could I please?”

“Of course,” I smiled, pulling away. He still held on tight, not wanting to let go.

We made our way to my bedroom, repeating our usual routine. This wasn’t the first time we’d had a sleepover, and it won’t be the last I’m sure. Sometimes after particularly harder cases he would spend the night, just to be close to someone.

I went into the bathroom to change, giving him the opportunity to do the same. When I returned, he was dressed in a t-shirt and flannel pants he left at my place for sleepovers like this. He was already in bed, and when he saw that I was done in the bathroom he lifted the side of the blanket to welcome me in.

I joined him, grinning as he scooted over and pressed his back to my chest. I felt him breathing softly, my right arm slung over his torso to bring him in closer. He held onto my hand, and didn’t let me drift away. I was happy to comply, happy to feel his body warmth radiate through me.

“Thank you, ____. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Spence.”

From that day on for the foreseeable future, I swore to myself to have check-ins with Spencer whenever it seemed necessary. Whether it was in the form of words, sleepovers, movie nights, or chess.

His smile got brighter everyday, and eventually he no longer felt as much weight on himself a few weeks down the road. He still cried to me about how he missed Gideon, but it had gotten less frequent. And I was always there for him, offering my shoulder and the promise of my embrace. I knew he appreciated it too.

After a few months since our first game, I beat him in a game of chess. We were on the jet on the way to Montana for a case, and Derek was sitting beside Spencer. He kept annoying him, doing little things like twisting his hair and fanning him with files. Spencer kept shrieking quietly -- trying not to alert Hotch of the bickering.

“Checkmate,” I said, biting back a smile.

“What?!” Spencer froze, arm raised in what looked like to be a poor attempt of whacking Derek’s head.

“Awe, pretty boy. You’ll get her next time,” Derek threw his head back in laughter.

“What?” Spencer repeated quieter, eyes darting across the board, likely running calculations in his head.

“Better luck next time,” I smirked, tilting my head to the side. I wiggled my eyebrows, my small victory boosting my ego.

Spencer tried to keep a neutral face, but I could see by the tension in his cheekbones that he was happy. He was enjoying it.

-----

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 21 - Nowhere to Run [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4300

Summary: Everyone needs a shelter.

For all your life, your sister had always said she hated watching horror movies with you because you would always criticize every character and their choices in the movie.

Who would even stay where they were when they knew there was danger outside, when they knew there was something coming for them?

You had never thought you’d learn the answer first hand;

Because there was nothing else to do, and because that was exactly what you were doing.

Spencer and the rest of his team had sent you away from that basement so that you could get some fresh air and at least attempt to get away from the greeting written on the wall with blood but you knew it was impossible.

There was no running away from that, you had seen it already.

You dangled your legs off the pier back and forth, keeping your gaze on the lake that looked so calm that it was almost like a painting. Funny, you hadn’t ever stopped to enjoy it when you were still a child, you had never actually sat there on the pier to take a breath, wrapped in the safety that would soon disappear.

The footsteps coming closer pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned you head as Spencer sat down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked out and he ran his fingers through his curls.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure what home is for me at this point, to be honest with you,” you murmured, “Besides I heard the other agents talking, you guys are going to be pretty busy the moment the rest of your team gets here.”

He heaved a sigh, biting inside his cheek but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“It makes it official right?” you asked, “All these murders…It’s not really about my father’s legacy. It’s about me.”

He stole a look at you, “Y/N…”

“It’s okay professor,” you said, “Trust me, I’m not going to run and scream.”

“The profile is changing constantly with every piece of evidence-“

“Spencer.”

He let out a breath, pursing his lips.

“It is pointing that way so far,” he muttered, “It doesn’t matter though. His legacy or an obsession with you, we’re still going to catch him.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, pointing at the woods on the other side of the lake.

“Mina and I used to play the princess and the monster over there,” you said, “I mean… It was either me who was the princess or Mina and I were saving some imaginary princess because Mina wanted to be friends with her.” You used air quotes, “I don’t know whose shock was more fake when she came out, mine or mom’s.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah?”

“Mm hm, and right over there,” you pointed at the right, “Linc chased me with a worm in his hand to scare me off, and I ended up falling into the damn lake.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Then Mina pushed him into the lake too and we all got grounded for the whole weekend.” You let out a breath and pointed back at the cabin with your thumb, “And right there, dad showed me how to kill someone for the first time.”

His head shot up, “What?”

You scoffed, “He didn’t tell you that during those sessions?”

Spencer shook his head, frowning.

“He taught me…” you wetted your lips, “How to- how to hunt, that’s what he called it. Predator and prey. After teaching me how to analyze places to find a weapon, he taught me how to find my way in the woods. Just in case. He used to um-“ you cleared your throat, “I don’t really remember all of it, I don’t know how much of it are nightmares or memories, but I remember once he dragged me here in the middle of the night, and he opened the door and there was this man…”

“Petal honey, don’t get so close to him,” your father called out from the kitchen he sharpened the knife as you took a step closer to the man who was gagged and bleeding profusely, still whimpering on the floor. Even in the dim light you could see the look of terror on his face and your heart skipped a beat as you turned your head to look at your father.

“Daddy, he-“ you shifted your weight from one foot to other, “Maybe we can just leave him like this. He’d be dead by the morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked before getting closer to you, flipping the knife in his hand and the man started yelling through the gag, but it was muffled. Your father extended his hand, motioning at the huge teddy bear you were hugging closer to your chest and you bit on your lip, then handed him that.

“You can get the teddy back after you answer 3 questions right, you know the rules,” he told you, “Alright, if I wanted him to die quickly, where would I stab?”

“Jugular.”

“Where’s the jugular?”

You pointed at the man’s neck, “There.”

“Good. What if I wanted him to suffer for hours with just one stab wound?”

You paused and scrunched up your nose, forcing your mind for the information before you looked up at him.

“In the stomach,” you said, “Stomach acid hurts.”

He thought for a second, then handed you the teddy back.

“Good job honey,” he said and walked to the man with the knife in his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you pressed your lips together, “For hours and hours he tortured him and when we got back home, I went to bed and the next morning I wouldn’t stop shivering, I kept throwing up and my mom thought I had the flu so we ended up not coming to the cabin that weekend. I know how he—” you clicked your tongue, “I know how he pretends to be a normal guy. During those interviews, that documentary, even in those sessions with you he keeps pretending like he’s normal, but I know him. I know the real monster and I…”  you sniffled and cleared your throat, “Profiler or not, you have no idea what he’s capable of. He put me through actual hell, Spencer. No wonder I can’t remember half of this shit, I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t stop him.”

He frowned, “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to,” Spencer told you, “You were a child.”

“I could’ve told someone,” you murmured, looking at the lake, “I could’ve done something.”

“You were a child,” he repeated, “Children trust their parents, okay? You know it as well as I do that he’s a master at manipulation. Whatever he has done, it’s not your fault.”

“I doubt those bodies in the basement would agree with you,” you managed to say and let out a humorless chuckle, “Besides, I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You told me so yourself.”

The impact of your words would’ve been surprising if you weren’t so distracted by your own misery. He pulled back as if you had just slapped him, his hazel eyes searching your face and he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth like he was at loss for words.

“I didn’t mean—” he paused, shaking his head “Y/N, that wasn’t the truth.”

You grabbed the cigarette out of your purse and lit it, dangling your legs back and forth over the pier.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged your shoulders, “You’re not the first person to think that, and weirdly enough, you’re not the first ex to think that either-“

“That’s not what I think,” he insisted, “Nothing about you even suggests that you’re anything like him, behavior or psychological wise. I just wanted to—“ he hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching, “Hurt you back.”

You tried to smile, still keeping your gaze on the lake as you exhaled the smoke.

“Congratulations professor, you’re pretty good at that.”

A silence fell upon you both as you twirled the cigarette between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so gentle that you turned your head to look at him, “I really am. I never should’ve hit below the belt, not like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No really,” you insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I’m just so—“ you closed your eyes for a moment “God, I’m just so tired Spencer. You have no idea how tired I am.”

“I know.”

“And it just doesn’t end,” you murmured and opened your eyes, “Right? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months now, and everything is getting so out of my control.”

“It will end soon.”

“But we don’t know that,” you insisted as almost a hysterical laugh escaped from your lips, “Do you want to hear the worst part? I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. At this point, I don’t even remember how it feels like not to be afraid.”

He heaved a sigh, then looked over his shoulder when Luke approached you two.

“Sorry guys,” he said, shifting his weight, “But um- Reid, we need you in there.”

“Can’t someone else-“

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you stood up and dusted off your jeans, “Seriously. Besides, the sooner you catch this guy, the sooner…I don’t know, the sooner things go back to normal, whatever that means.”

“You can’t just drive home like this.”

“I’ll drive her,” Luke said, making you turn your head,

“Dude, aren’t you needed here too?”

“I’m going to go back to help out Rossi,” he said, “Not all of the team has to be here, I mean-“ he nodded at Spencer, “We’ve got our genius here, he’s got it covered. I can take the babysitting duty.”

“No pastries for you anymore.”

“I would like to rephrase my statement,” he said quickly, making you smile before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Y/N-“ Spencer started but you shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Go do your Sherlock stuff, professor. Solve the case so that I can start planning weddings again instead of hanging around creepy cabins. I’m just gonna go home and get drunk, so you’ll probably get a voicemail or two from me, just saying.”

“Can’t wait,” Spencer smiled softly and you followed Luke to your car, then handed him the keys and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and you slipped a little in the seat, leaning your knees on the dash.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asked you and you heaved a sigh.

“I feel like I’m in a horror movie to be honest with you,” you muttered, “Who the fuck writes on a wall with blood, I mean like who are you, Michael Myers?”

“I didn’t mean the case,” he stole a look at you and you raised your brows.

“Ah, that,” you said, “Well, I don’t have a bff that sets me up with people in night clubs, so there’s that.”

He hissed in a breath, “Garcia told you.”

“Mm hm,” you looked out of the window, “No hard feelings, don’t worry. I dated lots of frat boys back when I was in college, so I’m very familiar with the bro code.”

“You dated frat boys?” he made a face and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I started from the bottom and worked my way up to the genius back there.”

He chuckled, “I take it you still haven’t told him you threatened a serial killer because he happened to threaten him?”

“I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

Your jaw dropped, “I let you drive my car and this is the thanks I get, Alvez?”

“Okay trust fund baby, I’m driving you home, you’re not doing me a favor.”

You let out a small laugh, “Eh, I’m not that bad.”

“Your sister threatened a whole police department using lawyers.”

“They had it coming,” you said and he cleared his throat.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was an actual fiasco.”

Your head shot up and you turned to him, “Hm?”

“That whole thing with Reid. He’s not over you.”

“He will be,” you murmured, “Eventually.”

“Do you want to hear why it was a fiasco?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration-“

“He spent the whole night talking about you,” he cut you off and your jaw dropped, “Yeah. More like, she asked him about his job and he mentioned the case, then talked about you and how you couldn’t be the killer for hours. For a second, I thought he’d go up to the DJ booth and start broadcasting from there.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you, but you nibbled on your lip, trying to ignore it.

“I really hurt him Luke.”

He stole a look at you from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” he said, “That’s pretty clear. I don’t know which one is worse, that you hurt him or that it doesn’t seem to change anything on his part.”

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you slipped a little in your seat and kept your eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I don’t know which one is worse either.”

                                                   ***

The worst thing about nightmares?

There was no escape from them, and no amount of booze could make them go away.

You woke up to your own scream and leaped out of the bed so fast that you got caught in your sheets and fell on your face, your ears ringing. You could feel the bile burning your throat, so you covered your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, barely aware of the sobs rocking your body. You wiped at your mouth and stood up on shaky legs, then brushed your teeth, still breathing hard.

You were there again, in that graveyard with your father, but this time you couldn’t brush it off as just a nightmare.

It was way too detailed, way too familiar to be a nightmare.

You wiped at your forehead and washed your face with ice cold water, desperate for some sort of a relief and leaned over the sink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Fuck this shit,” you rasped out to yourself before turning the tap off and raised your glances to look in the mirror.

Well.

You looked exactly like how you felt.

You still didn’t trust your legs but still managed to leave the bathroom, Making your way to your bedroom was more than enough to give you goosebumps, but you snatched your phone off the bedside table. You almost dropped it because of how badly you were trembling with fear, but managed to hold it tighter, found his name in the contacts and took the phone to your ear.

He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Spencer, hi,” you said, still taking deep breaths, “I um… I had this- this nightmare and I- I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so fast?”

“Not a panic attack,” you wiped at your nose, “Not yet anyway.”

“Okay, I’m still coming over-“

“No!” you cut him off, then licked your lips, “No I can’t…. I can’t stay here right now, I need to get out of here. Can we please meet somewhere or-or-“

“How about my place?” he asked and you heard the unmistakable clinking of keys, “You can’t drive like that, I’ll come and pick you up, wait there-“

“No I’ll just take a taxi.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll take a taxi, just send me the location,” you told him and hung up, quickly got dressed, got into your coat, then went downstairs when your taxi arrived. You still felt like you could throw up again, but the cool air coming from the open car window helped as the driver started the car after you gave him the location.

There was a beauty in the city at night, especially in chilly nights like these. The small raindrops falling down your face offered some kind of a small comfort while you tried your hardest to ignore the images flashing through your mind, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs. You leaned your head to the open window, closing your eyes and letting the noise of the city drag you out of your own mind.

By the time the taxi pulled over, you were almost lost in your thoughts and only when the driver let you know that you were there you opened your eyes. You paid him, and looked up at the building before making your way inside.

It was almost strange how you hadn’t seen his apartment when you two were dating, but now here you were.

After the break up. At three in the morning.

You wiped at your nose and fixed your hair before you knocked on the door and tried to control your breathing, but that felt way too difficult. As soon as he opened the door, everything you had planned to tell him in your head disappeared and you looked up at him in complete silence for a couple of seconds, you had almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t in his work clothes. A warmth filled you, the urge to rush into his arms taking over you but you managed to fight the urge and stepped into the apartment, desperately searching for the right words.

“I had that nightmare, again.” You turned to him as soon as you entered the living room, stumbling over your words, “That graveyard nightmare, but Spencer I think it wasn’t just a dream, I think you were right and it was a memory and there was someone else but I can’t see a face and—“

“Y/N.”

“And I think we were there because of me because it all just connected, we were at that graveyard and he was actually digging a grave and I can remember the face of the victim but not—“

“Sweetheart, breathe.” he approached you in three long steps and his warm hands cupped your cheek so that he could look at you better, “I’m here, I’m listening, okay? Just breathe and tell me. Slowly.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“I had that nightmare again,” you managed to say, “But I think that’s a memory.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “How?”

“Because at the graveyard, dad told me something,” you said, “He was- he was digging a grave, and he said, Remember, you’re not supposed to make them bleed if you can’t kill them. And I remembered when that happened, back at the cabin, during the training, I… I untied one of the victims and pretended like he got out of them somehow.”

His hand slipped a little so that he could brush his fingers over your neck, almost soothing you.

“It didn’t work,” you shook your head, “As soon as he got out of the cabin, dad hunted him down and dragged him back into the cabin, he had lost way too much blood to make a run for it. Spencer, that’s a memory, not just a nightmare.”

“There was another person with you? At the graveyard?”

“He took the victim to the graveyard later on, but yes. There was someone, I just…I can’t remember who,” you heaved a shaky breath, “You need to tell the team-“

“We’re already checking the graveyards within the driving distance to the cabin, I told them today.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said and his eyes searched your face, “You’re shaking.”

You tried to smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, running your thumb over his warm skin, “It’s cold out there.”

You were lying, he knew you were lying and you knew that he knew, but neither of you commented on that. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled you closer to him, letting you bury your face into his chest as he held you tight and you inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.

He was right earlier. This was an addiction.

“Were you sleeping?” you muttered into his chest before you pulled back to look up at him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I was working on the case.”

“You really need to sleep.”

“It’s ironic to hear that from you,” he pointed out and that made a smile warm your face.

“Ah but I did sleep,” you said, “I just woke up because of the nightmares. It still counts as sleep.”

“I doubt that,” he said and you turned your head before you started walking around the room.

Spencer’s apartment was more or less what you imagined, to be honest. Contrary to yours, it was darker and obviously older. The wooden desk was covered in papers and books, there was a library by the corner of the room almost stacked to the brim, and overall it reminded you so much of him that just being in his apartment made you feel-

Safer. Better. Calmer.

“Lovely place,” you commented as you approached the library to drag your fingertips over the cracked and old spines of the books and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift his weight.

“Yeah it’s not- it’s not like yours but I like it.”

“Not like mine?” you looked over your shoulder and he cleared his throat.

“Mm hm.”

“I like it better than mine,” you said and he frowned,

“Why?”

“It looks like someone is actually living here,” you motioned around and he tilted his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It is,” you said, “I mean I can see….you in here. I can’t see any part of me in my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “My mom has this person who designs her houses, she designed my apartment too. It’s pretty but it’s just not me I guess. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

He hummed, his eyes watching your every move and you pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up so that he could see the title.

“You don’t strike me as a Petrarch guy,” you tilted your head, “Are you?”

He raised his brows and stole a look at the book in your hand.

“I do not pray, since there is no purpose, that my heart should ever burn less fiercely, but only that she might share part of the fire.” he recited and your jaw dropped before you pouted.

“I hate bluffing with you,” you commented, making him chuckle and you stifled a yawn while turning the book in your hands.

“You can’t work for the whole night if you have a guest.” you gestured at the wooden table and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t if my guest promises she’ll try to sleep.”

“I don’t like this deal.”

“That’s the deal you’re getting,” he said and you clicked your tongue, then walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor before you lied down.

“I have a bed, you know.”

“I don’t want to get comfortable and fall asleep yet. I want to enjoy this more.”

“Enjoy what? Lying on the floor?”

You shook your head and kept your gaze on the ceiling, the dim light of the apartment and lights from the outside creating shadows there.

“I don’t have that…mind numbing fear right now,” you managed to say “I want to make it last. It’ll come back when I wake up tomorrow, trust me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, then heaved a sigh and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back to the leather armchair. You tossed him the book and he caught it mid-air, shooting you a quizzical look.

“Read me your favorite,” you said and he smiled slightly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’ll help me get out of my head, and it might help you….ignore the fact that your night club date was terrible, apparently.”

He raised his brows, “Luke told you?”

You tried to stop your smirk, but it was impossible,

“Yeah he did,” you said and bit inside your cheek for a moment, “Thank you though.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

His gaze on you was gentle, “I wish you would believe in yourself too,” he told you, “You’re not what he tried to turn you into.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should move on?”

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “We probably should. But do I think we can move on? I don’t think so.”

You nodded slowly, that burning in your eyes getting even worse as he turned the pages until he found what he was looking for, then cleared his throat and started reading.

“I have offered you my heart a thousand times

O my sweet warrior, only to make peace

with your lovely eyes: but it does not please you

with your noble mind, to stoop so low.”

You smiled to yourself, painfully aware of why he picked that one, then closed your eyes, his voice washing over you.

“And if some other lady has hope of it,

she lives in powerless, deceiving hope:

and it can never be what it was to me,

since I too disdain what does not please you.”

Chapter 22

[percabeth4life]

Can you write a better love interest for Nico? I want my boy to be happy.

Yeah sure!

Okay so first off, there aren’t many kids his age that are named or have actual personality so I’m just gonna make an OC. Cause we’re doing a good relationship here, not just named character.

So OC love interest!

Now, I am a sucker for light/dark and life/death vibes, but also any Apollo camper is just automatically out for me. There’s just an automatic association with a healer at this point and I just... can’t do that. S0langelo ruined it for me.

So Demeter camper! They’re in charge of picking all the plants for the cabins after book 5 and setting that up and the kid, we’re gonna name him Marcus for funsies (he’s got curly black hair and dark eyes and is just great), has to go to Nico about it.

So Marcus goes over to talk to Nico about the plants and stuff and he did his research on good death related plants and gives a list of options (with pictures, advantages, disadvantages, and dangers) to Nico and is like “Just let me know what you pick!” and Nico is like “You know I kill all plants on accident right?” and Marcus 100% takes that as a challenge.

So that’s how their knowing each other starts. Marcus is offering Nico new plants on a weekly basis that require varying degrees of care and Nico is doing a very impressive job killing them all, until Marcus finds funeral flowers.

Lily’s survive the best surprisingly, all different kinds of lilys, but chrysanthemum’s do a pretty good job too. He also figures out that the cypress tree sapling will survive well.

Nico is honestly delighted to have flowers in the cabin, especially ones that actually survive his death touch fairly well. He didn’t think he would manage that. Marcus is very pleased too, mission accomplished.

The two end up hanging out more as time goes on and we can have several paths available at this point.

So either Marcus ends up left behind during the whole seven quest and Nico going missing and all, and they meet up in the way that s0langelo did (as in when Nico is there and Marcus is part of the scouting team instead because who the fuck sends a healer who’s been awake for ages and handling a baby’s birth and isn’t a fighter out on a scouting mission????) and Marcus is like “Oh thank goodness you’re alright we heard you got captured”

Nico is pretty happy to see pretty flower boy who he’s been friends with for awhile is there and reassures him that he’s safe and asks for an update on what’s been going on so he can act properly. And so yeah, Marcus and Nico work together and handle things and Marcus checks up on him after the battle and is like “yikes, that’s a lot, how are you feeling? Do you need someone to talk to?”

And slowly feelings grow from there, leading to them starting to date by TOA time. It’s a shyer romance but they’re good friends so they’re a good pair. They have lots of respect for each other and worry for each other just do good as a pair.

[orangeoctopi7]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?” 

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.” 

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.” 

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove. 

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed. 

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre. 

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments. 

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study. 

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously. 

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion. 

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?” 

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos. 

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

 * * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

[gothicknightz]

SLAUGHTER CAMP — XAVIER PLYMPTON

PART THREE; MANIAC

(warnings; drug usage, drinking, minor swearing)

All six friends were seated around the campfire, with Cassie and Montana sharing a log, Chet and Xavier also together, with Ray at the end with the boys, and Brooke at her own log.

Eventually the nurse showed up, taking a seat amongst the friends, “I don't smoke that funny weed. Only thing I put in my lungs... is a Marlboro Red.”

Rita takes a seat by one of the logs closest to the second cooler, as the seven were now sharing drinks and cigarettes. She lights up as Cassie opens her mouth to say something, turning towards the nurse.

“... You know what? No,” She paused, leaning over a bit, putting the rolled paper in between her lips, “Spare me a light?”

The nurse rolls the lighter, and instantly the rolling paper lights up, both Cassie and Rita leaning back. 

“Any of you been camp counselors before?” She asks, out of curiousity.

Everyone responds one way or another, all their responses hinting that none of them have been counselors before.

“The city was becoming a real circus,” Cassie took a drag from her blunt, eyes looking at Rita, “We all had to get out of there, needed some lax for the summer season.”

“I hear that,” Rita agrees, “Couldn't stand being in that city another minute. Not with all those gruesome murders happening so close to home.”

Cassie raised her blunt in agreement, before slowly whipping her head to look at Brooke when she opened her mouth, “I was attacked in my apartment by the Night Stalker. He said he'd come after me.”

“Brooke, take a chill pill,” Montana commented, “He doesn't know where you are, and nobody followed us. Nothing bad is gonna happen here.”

Cassie was too busy in her thoughts when Brooke mentioned her experience with the Night Stalker, but quipped out of it when Xavier started to talk.

“Rita. I totally understand the tradition, and usually I'm cool with that, but our friend Brooke here had a for-real assault, and we're just not in the mood for a bullshit ghost story.”

Unintentionally, Xavier made eye contact with Cassie, the girl in response giving snake eyes back, signaling something.

Rita tapped the ashes of her cigarette, “It's not bullshit. And there was no ghost.”

“I'll be honest with you. I've never been a nurse at a summer camp before. And you've never been counselors.” The nurse shifted her postion on the log, continuing her speech, “So how did we get these jobs with no prior experience?”

Cassie and Montana shared a look, knowing exactly where the patriotic mumble would go.

“That's because anybody that knows anything about Camp Redwood doesn't want to be in Camp Redwood.”

Cassie leaned over to the cooler to grab another drink, already getting bored with words, wanting some excitement at least in the bubble.

“This is the sight of the worst summer camp massacre of all time.”

—

Brooke was out, checking on the hiker while everyone was mingling inside the boys’ cabin, laughing and talking about whatever.

“Don’t even go there, Ray, I called dibs on her first.” Xavier pointed a finger at Ray, a drink in his other hand.

Ray rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Whatever, man, she’s not my type.”

“Oh yeah, what is your type then?” Xavier was sassy, and half tipsy at this point to where he was a high school girl; he wanted to know what was in around the town.

“Girls like Cassie are more my type.” Ray joked, wrapping an arm around the girl, who in return, took his arm off of her.

“You would say that Ray.” Cassie took a sip from her beer can, “You basically date anyone who doesn’t think your weird.”

“Do I?” He raised a brow, “Your standards for guys are as high as the amounts of hairspray Xavier puts in his hair.” 

Montana laughed, “Yeah, Cassie, he’s right.” She looked Cassie up and down, “Though, it looks like you and Xavier caught up.” 

Cassie rolled her eyes, “Okay, screw you guys,” The girl took another sip out of her can, “I’m betting that you’ll hook up with some rando or the guy from the gas station.”

“How much is that bet worth, Cassie?”

—

Brooke eventually joined the gang, discussing the whole hiker situation, “ I think there's something wrong with the hiker. When I went to check on him, he wigged out.” 

“He’s probably concussed, Brooke.” Cassie passed a blunt to Montana who started to speak, “I mean, we got him here, made sure he didn't die.” There was brief pause before she continued, “Karmically, we’re cool.”

Brooke mentioned about the hiker saying something bad was going to happen, but her moment was instantly taken over by someone approaching the door.

Before the door opened, everyone scrambled to hide any evidence that there was a group, let along drugs and alcohol. Cassie and Montana hid behind some storage build up in the cabin, with Xavier attempting to clean up as the figure walked in.

It turned out to be a guy who had one hell of a mustache, and a good taste in casual wear. “Hey,” He came up to the group with a serious look on his face, “ Don't you guys know you're not supposed to be coed fraternizing?”

Everyone’s breath was released as the guy mentioned that he was only just messing around, the atmosphere becoming more relaxed, and everyone regrouping.

The man went over to the cooler by Montana and Cassie to grab a beer, “ Oh, I'm Trevor, activities director.” He took a sip, “ So, technically, I'm your boss, but don't worry, I'm not gonna be enforcing any of Margaret Booth's rules for godly living.”

“Between you and me, I bet myself bucks I'd bang her by the end of the summer.”

“You bet yourself?”

“Yeah.”

—

Alarms were blaring as the halls of a ward were going awol, shouts and yells being heard from all over the place.

A man showed up, frantic, “Dr. Hopple.”

“What in God's name is going on?” 

“It's a mess, Doctor. One of the patients broke out.”

“One of the patients?”

“The entire hospital is on the front lawn. He hit the master release on the way out. Opened all the cell doors.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Jingles. I mean, Benjamin Richter.”

[metalheadcowboy]

hopper thinking that steve and billy are in a very intense fight cause he’s hearing all this banging so he goes to “break it up” but the closer he gets to billy’s room, the more he realizes that these are sounds of pleasure

HAHAHAHAAA WEFPIHWFPHW

To say Hopper’s shift down at the station had been stressful would be an understatement. A false call about a robbery, loads upon loads of paperwork, Flo not even giving him two puffs of a cigarette before putting it out. He was just ready to be home. Sit on the couch, smoke, watch shitty day time TV, relax.

Which is why when he got home and the first thing he heard was the tail end of what he assumed to be an argument,

“-Slut!”

“Fuck you!”

and what sounded like punching maybe from the direction of Billy’s room he half thought about committing murder.

He was no stranger to Steve and Billy’s fights, had been called to break them up on more than a few occasions, always about something ridiculously stupid. And ever sense Billy moved in with him and became somewhat like a son the fights seemed to hit closer and closer to home until there was one apparently going on in his home.

The closer he got to Billy’s room, or his old room, the noises seemed to get weirder. The walls of the cabin were relatively thin, so much so that you could probably hear a pin drop in the next room over. This meant that the noise of Billy and Steve ’fighting’ filled the entire main area of the cabin with long grunts and groans and just overall loud.

Just when he was about to reach for the door handle suddenly something was exclaimed that clicked everything into place.

“Harder, Steve, I’m gonna cum!”

And he immediately pulled his hand away from the door to slap it over his mouth. What the hell? What was he even supposed to do in this situation? He couldn’t just barge in there and make them stop, that would be way too weird. Maybe he should just let them finish and have a talk with them afterward? He remembered what it was like to be a teenager, felt a little bit of remorse. But he was also wasn’t as blatantly stupid as Billy and Steve must have been. He honestly hoped to God that El was hanging out with Max or something, hoped that his son had at least that much decency.

It was about another five minutes of Hopper trying his best to drown out the sounds of Billy and Steve in any way possible before it all went silent. Dead silence and it was finally over. Hopper just sat on the couch for a moment trying to think of what to even say, what would be the responsible dad thing to tell them?

With a sigh Hopper got up from the couch and walked over to the door, standing there for a few seconds before actually knocking.

“Everybody decent?” he asked, pretty sure he heard a body hitting the floor in the process, followed by hushed talking, and rustling of clothes

“Yes, sir,” he heard Billy’s voice say, taking that as an okay to walk in.

Steve and Billy were both sitting awkwardly on Billy’s bed, taking complete opposite sides of the mattress. The silence was thick with tension as Hopped took the chair from Billy’s desk, turned it around and sat in it backwards.

“Thought I told you three inches,” he started off with and Billy quickly jumped in to defend their actions.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for another hour!” he accused, making wild gestures with his hand.

“What time do you think it is?” Hopper questioned, keeping his attention directed at Billy for the time being.

“’S five and you were supposed to be home at six,” Billy replied like it was just fact.

“Son, it’s almost seven-thirty, I was late,” he said, watching as Billy quickly looked over to Steve and Steve to Billy. It made him wonder just how long they’d been... never mind.

“Shit,” Billy mumbled, blush creeping onto his cheeks and heat up the tips of his ears, “Sorry.” He looked genuinely remorseful and apologetic, but mostly embarrassed. 

Hopper let out a heavy sigh, “Just be straight with me,” he started, but couldn’t even get to the point before Billy and Steve were both chuckling, “Haha, very funny, laugh it up while you still can.” That shut them both up.

“Please tell me you used protection.”

“Hop!” Billy exclaimed, face now bright red, looking less than enthusiastic about their conversation.

“Did you?” he questioned again, leaning forward a little bit as if he was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, alright?” Billy practically whined like a bratty child. He wanted nothing more in that moment than for the the floorboards to swallow him whole.

“Are you telling the truth?” he asked, doubting the validity of Billy’s statement.

“Do you want me to go pull the condoms out of the trash or something?” Billy asked, pointing over to the trashcan in the corner for dramatic effect.

“Condoms, plural?” Hopper’s eyes were wide as he watched Billy look over with shit eating grin at Steve who was redder than a tomato, hiding his face in his hands.

“Jesus, I need a drink,” Hopper said, getting up from his chair and returning it to the desk, “And Billy,” he stopped just before leaving the room, “We’ll have a chat after Steve leaves.”

With that he left the room, just to hear the door slam behind him.

“Three fucking inches!”

Send me hc’s!! 💛💛

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 20

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of parental deaths, and mentions of abuse.

When Yoongi opened his eyes the next morning, it was to the sound of someone yelling his name. He almost thought he was going crazy as he sat up off of the ratty couch, standing up and looking out of the window. 

“I’m loosing my mind,” Yoongi muttered as he saw who he was pretty sure looked to be Taehyung and Jungkook approaching the old cabin. 

“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung yelled again and Yoongi just sighed heavily. 

“Yep, I’ve lost it,” he huffed as he walked over to the front door and threw it open, walking down the steps and waving his hands to show that he was there. Taehyung and Jungkook walked over to him, and Taehyung instantly threw his arms around Yoongi in a tight hug. 

“Are you ok hyung?” He asked and Yoongi just nodded as he awkwardly brought his arms up and wrapped them around Taehyung as well.

“I’m fine Taehyung,” Yoongi replied and Taehyung pulled away from the hug to look him over.

“Wow, you don’t even have any bruises or anything from Joon hyung,” Taehyung marveled. 

“He’s Prime Tae,” Jungkook reminded him. 

“What are you two doing here?” Yoongi asked them. “Does Namjoon know you’re here?”

“We came to find you and no, he doesn’t know because I’m not speaking to him since he threw you out of the pack,” Taehyung explained. 

“Taehyung,” Yoongi tsked in disapproval. “Well, how did you guys know I was here?”

“We followed your scent,” Jungkook said. “You don’t smell the best when you’re sad hyung.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Yoongi chuckled. “You two shouldn’t be here, though. There’s no need in you causing more issues with Namjoon just to come and check on me.”

“But we know that you’re not who Seo-hyun painted you out to be!” Taehyung announced excitedly. “In our pack, we keep records of everything so knowing that, I decided to look through the records that we had of the Great Pack War. Why didn’t you tell us that you didn’t fight in the war at all?”

“It never came up,” Yoongi shrugged.

“In the records, it said that Seo-hyun claimed that he didn’t want any of his pack members that were under the age of 19 to fight,” Jungkook brought up. “But it seemed like he was using that as an excuse to hold some of his fighters in reserve.”

“Well, it was partly that,” Yoongi nodded in confirmation.

“Then where were you during the war hyung?” Taehyung questioned and Yoongi took a deep breath before answering, because he had never said this to anyone out loud before.

“I was locked up on our territory with my parents, under Seo-hyun’s orders, for the entire two years of the war,” Yoongi revealed and Taehyung’s face lit up. “Matter of fact, he locked us up before the war even started.”

“I knew that there was more to this!” Taehyung exclaimed as he looked at Jungkook. “Seo-hyun made up that excuse in order to not draw any attention to that the fact that he was imprisoning you!”

“Yep,” Yoongi said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything hyung?” Jungkook wondered.

“I’ve never...talked about that time period with anyone other than my parents, who were locked up with me,” Yoongi replied. “And it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to figure it out because you have to go explain this all to Y/N-ah,” Taehyung said. 

“She was really upset when she found out, I don’t think she’d be willing to listen,” Yoongi told him. 

“We’ll make her listen,” Taehyung shrugged.

“What about Namjoon?” Yoongi questioned. “I’m no longer welcome on the territory, remember?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jungkook smiled. “Just trust us.”

........................................

Yoongi deciding to trust them led to them literally sneaking Yoongi back onto their territory and right onto your front steps. 

“Just...let me do all the talking at first hyung,” Taehyung suggested and after receiving a nod from Yoongi, he reached out and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened and Yoongi’s heart almost broke as he took in the sight of you. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, you had one of the blankets that Yoongi gave you wrapped around your shoulders, and your scent was extremely sour, only further proving how upset you were. 

“What are you doing here?” You spat as you narrowed your eyes at Yoongi. “I said I never wanted to see you again and Namjoon kicked you out of the pack.”

“Y/N-ah, hear us out,” Taehyung said and you turned your head to look at him. 

“You went and found him?” You asked and Taehyung nodded.

“I looked through some of our records because I just couldn’t believe that Seo-hyun was telling the truth and I found out that Yoongi hyung never even fought in the war,” Taehyung told you and your eyes widened slightly.

“What? You never told me that,” you muttered as you looked at Yoongi. “Then what were you doing for those two years?”

“I was locked up with my parents before the war even started, under Seo-hyun’s orders,” Yoongi spoke up and you gasped softly.

“Seriously?” You wondered and Yoongi nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I could tell you now and explain everything, if you’d let me,” Yoongi offered and you nodded your head slowly.

“And that’s our cue,” Taehyung grinned as he grabbed Jungkook’s hand and lead him down the steps and away from your house. 

“Come in,” you muttered as you stepped back and Yoongi walked inside, waiting for you to shut the door before following you to the living room. You both sat down on the couch, a good amount of space in between the two of you before Yoongi spoke.

“So, first things first,” Yoongi began. “Seo-hyun wasn’t always the leader of my pack.”

“Really?” You asked. 

“My uncle had been the Pack Omega since before I was born,” he elaborated. “When I was around 16, he gathered the pack one day saying that Seo-hyun, who I knew as Seo-jun at the time, was going to be joining our pack and acting as his second in command. We all thought it was weird because our pack was never really one to take in lone wolfs and there was just something about Seo-hyun that rubbed everyone the wrong way.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “What happened after that?”

“Over the two years that Seo-hyun served under my uncle, he was always trying to convince him to fight for more land and resources,” Yoongi told you. “My uncle was the literal definition of a pacifist though, and he was never going to start a war with other packs unless absolutely necessary so Seo-hyun murdered him.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered. 

“He locked my parents and I up after that because my uncle had no mate or pups so the next Pack leader would’ve been my dad and after him, me,” he continued. “He was worried about us trying to ‘overthrow’ him so while the war went on, my parents and I were kept in a cabin with no windows, only one door, and very little food.”

“I’m so sorry Yoongi,” you spoke up and he gave you a small smile.

“It’s ok. It wasn’t that bad really, because we had each other,” he said. “But when the war began to wind down and it became clear that Seo-hyun was going to lose, he killed both of my parents right in front of me.” You reached up and clasped your hand over your mouth, hoping to stifle the sound of the gasps that were escaping you as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I’ve always hated myself for it because as a Prime Alpha, I’ve always felt like I should’ve been able to do something to stop it,” he confessed. 

“He would’ve killed you too,” you pointed out. 

“Sometimes I think that would’ve been better,” he replied.

“Don’t say that,” you tsked as you reached over and grabbed both of his hands in yours, scooting over to be closer to him. “It wouldn’t have been better.”

“Well, after the war ended, I should’ve been next in line to be Pack Alpha but Seo-hyun literally threatened to kill me if I took it so I didn’t,” Yoongi sighed. “Seo-hyun always resented me though.”

“Then why did you stay?” You asked gently. “I mean, your uncle was gone, your parents were gone, so you didn’t have much tying you down there.”

“True, but I wouldn’t have made it on my own,” Yoongi said. “You know the life expectancy for a wolf without a pack and I was only 20 at the time.”

“That’s understandable,” you nodded.

“I’ve always regretted not leaving though, because the things that Seo-hyun did to me over the seven years afterwards were cruel,” Yoongi huffed. “He was always purposely trying to make me weak so he would do things like starve me and pay other members of the pack to try and kick my ass. Eventually, I guess he just got sick of me so a bunch of other Prime Alphas in our pack jumped me before leaving me for dead.”

“And that’s how Tae found you,” you summed up and Yoongi nodded. Without any hesitation, you threw yourself into Yoongi’s arms and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry Yoongi.”

“Baby, it’s ok,” he assured you as he wrapped his arms around you as well, pulling you into his chest.

“No, it’s not,” you cried. “I should’ve let you explain and instead I just pushed you away.”

“You thought I had something to do with taking your parents away and it’s understandable that you reacted the way that you did,” he whispered and you pulled back a little in order to look at him. “I need you to know though Y/N, I’m nothing like Seo-hyun and I never want to be. I meant what I said when I told you that I don’t crave power.”

“I believe you,” you smiled lightly. 

“I also need you to know the other reason why I stuck around and seemingly went along with Seo-hyun’s fucked up ideology for seven years,” he said but you shook your head.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But I’m going to tell you because I don’t want you to have any doubts in your mind,” he explained. “I stayed because I thought that if I fucked enough Omegas and won enough fights against other Alphas then that would make me feel better about not being able to save my parents but it never did. It wasn’t until I joined to your pack that I realized that contributing to the pack was what finally made me feel worthy, and falling in love with you and being the only one who you let see your vulnerable side only intensified that feeling.”

“I love you,” you whimpered and Yoongi chuckled at how emotional you had gotten.

“I love you too,” he replied. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you nodded and that was all Yoongi needed before he smashed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

“Do me a favor,” he murmured against your lips and you pulled away from him to watch as he pulled the necklace that he had given you out of his pocket. “Never take this off again?”

“Never,” you promised as you quickly turned around to allow him to clasp the necklace onto you. Once he was done, you turned back to face him with a small smile on your face.

“I missed you,” you told him honestly.

“I missed you more, and I’m sorry again for not being honest with you sooner,” he said.

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” you waved your hand dismissively. “It’s me and you now.”

“I like the sound of that,” Yoongi grinned before leaning forward and kissing you again. 

........................................

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[theasstour]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!! 

READ TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON | CHECK OUT THE OTHER FIVE EXCLUSIVE PATREON STORIES HERE!

[buckyssoldat]

Gone (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: A few years after she left, Wanda finally finds her, but everything goes wrong.

Word count: 904

Warnings: Wandavision spoilers, unrequited love, heartbreak, sadness, angst

A/N: This is the second (and probably last) part of ‘Not in that way’. Hope everyone likes it! Also, please check my fic ‘Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

Living without seeing Wanda everyday hurt her more than anything. She had Vision, so why would she need her? After the battle with Thanos, they were both blipped. When they came back, she thought about contacting Wanda again, but lost all the courage when she heard about what was happening in Westview. Wanda had really created a whole new reality, a reality that was the perfect life for her. It broke her heart when she realized Wanda’s perfect life didn’t include her at all.

She had heard about what happened to Wanda and Westview through the news channels. Mentally unstable and dangerous ex-Avenger was what they were calling the person she loved most in the whole world. Deciding not to interfere was a hard decision for her. She had left the whole hero life behind her, along with the feelings she had for Wanda – at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Every intelligence agency was looking for the Scarlet Witch, but she knew well that if Wanda didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t. But what she wasn’t expecting was seeing Wanda outside of her cabin, situated in a remote mountain range in Sokovia.

“Hi” the Scarlet Witch said as soon as she opened her front door, “So this is where you have been hiding for the past seven years?”

She didn’t know what to say to Wanda. Was she supposed to just hug her and treat her like she didn’t confess her love for her back in 2016 and then left?

“Um, you’re gonna let me come in?” Wanda asked, so she moved out of the doorway way, motioning her to come inside.

The cabin was small, with just one bedroom, one bathroom, and a living room/kitchen. It was cosy and good enough for her to spend the rest of her life.

“Cute house” Wanda said as she looked around the place, “Are you not gonna talk to me? I know it has been a few years, but I thought we were still friends.”

“I wasn’t here for the whole seven years after I left. I was blipped.” She finally spoke before sitting down on the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Wanda sat down next to her and grabbed her hands.

“Wanda…” the other woman whispered. It was hard to be so close to Wanda, because, even after all these years, she still loved her as much as the first day. “I’m sorry about Vision, I really am… He was good to you.”

The Scarlet Witch didn’t answer her, but let go of her hands, making her slightly gasp at the loss of contact.

“You might be wondering why I’m here” Wanda started, “I needed a place to lay low for a while and thought it would be nice to reconnect with you.”

“Wanda…” she whispered again.

What Wanda didn’t realize was how much it hurt her to be with her and not be able to kiss her, to touch her, to show her how much she is loved. Wanda didn’t even realize that after reading the note she left her seven years ago and that broke the rest of her heart.

The Scarlet Witch started getting dangerously close to her, so close that their lips were almost touching. The other woman didn’t say anything, she didn���t have enough strength to make her stop. When they finally kissed, she felt sparks all over her body. It was like her heart was combusting into flames without even using her powers. She pulled away when she realized what was really happening and how the kiss didn’t mean the same to Wanda as it did to her. Wanda loved Vision, Wanda will always love Vision, not her.

“Is anything wrong?” Wanda asked, clueless about why her friend had pulled away from something she thought she wanted.

“Yes, there is, Wanda” she got up from the couch and grabbed a backpack from the corner of the room, “You know how I feel about you, you knew what that kiss would mean to me. You don’t feel the same way and that’s okay, but you don’t get to play with my feelings, Wanda…”

“I’m not playing with your feelings!” Wanda went to her side and intertwined their fingers together.

“Wanda, it will always be Vision, I’m well aware of that, so don’t try to lie to me…”

“I’m not lying, I swear.” Tears were starting to fill Wanda’s eyes and her hands were shaking, “Please, don’t go…”

“You know I have to…” she was crying as well, “I can’t be with you, especially living like this, so close to each other and knowing that I can’t be with you…”

“Please…”

“I’ll come back to you Wanda, I swear on my life, but, right now, I need some more time alone. You need some too, Chaos Magic isn’t something easy to control…”

Wanda looked at her friend with shock in her eyes, “How do you know about Chaos Magic?”

“I know a lot of things, Wanda” she put the bag on her back and opened the front door, “You stay here for as long as you need. I’ll find you when I’m ready…”

She disappeared into the sky a few seconds later, using her fire powers to fly. And just like that, she was gone again, and Wanda knew this time would be forever, even though she said she would come back. She was gone. Forever.

tags: @stephanieromanoff​ @madamevirgo​ 

masterlist

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later. 

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak 

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics.  .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown. 

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else. 

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left. 

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time. 

.

******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark. 

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak. 

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings 

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying. 

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan. 

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to. 

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU. 

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******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t 

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael. 

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******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining