#sorry for putting a line through your face Mike I appreciate you

[stuckymonkey]

Stolen

Mafia Bucky Au

Pairing - mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Summary - y/n lived an ordinary life as a surgical resident in New York. Her father left when she was young, and her mother recently passed away. Bucky was promised by her father to get his firstborn daughter, unfortunately for y/n, that fits her description perfectly. Kind of enemies to lovers.

Warnings - violence, angst, being taken against will/kidnapping, mentions of death, stitches and medical things, mentions of suicide, mild cursing

Word count - 3.5k

a/n - i was feeling some angst, let me know what you think! feedback is always appreciated!

masterlist bucky masterlist

"Clamp" Joe said from across to table to one of the scrub nurses. "Lap pads" I said. We were doing a coronary artery bypass graft on a six year old patient. Five hours in and Lena was doing really well. She had maintained stability the entire time, making recovery look good for her.

I was about to irrigate when the door to the OR burst open. Me and Joe didn't look up, too focused on finishing Lena's cabg, starting to close up her heart with delicate sutures. "Y/n Y/L/N?" a low masculine voice boomed out. My head shot up to meet Joe's eyes, silently asking what to do. Her eyes were almost as wide as mine.

That voice belonged to James Barnes, head of the Brooklyn mafia. They had access to anywhere and everywhere in Brooklyn, no questions asked.

After having a silent conversation, we both opted to go back to Lena's heart. The voice boomed again, this time louder and much closer. "Y/n, scrub out." Joe whispered. I couldn't scrub out. Not now. Not while it was just me and Joe with a few scrub nurses. She couldn't close alone. "No." I kept suturing, almost to the point where we could start to close up entirely. "What?!" her head jerked up "I said no. You can't close on your own. Lena has been my patient for six months. I know everything about her, and her family. I am finishing this surgery with you and I will be there when they see their baby girl for the first time in six hours." I clipped the last suture, ready to close up her chest. "Y/n, I think you should listen to Joe and scrub out."

I suddenly felt cold metal pressed to my temple. "Put the tools down Y/L/N. I'm not afraid to pull this trigger." I heard the click of a bullet sliding into place at the end of his threat. I was shaking with tears running down my cheeks at this point. "I'm sorry," I said to Joe, it was obvious that I was crying. Through blurry eyes, I saw a tear slide down her cheek too.

What was going to happen to Lena? And her family? What would Joe tell them? I stepped back from the table and let Mike, my favourite nurse, help me take off my gown and relieve my trembling hands from my sterile blue gloves.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't go back to that table. By pressing a gun to my head, James had broken the sterile field. "Well done," James spoke lowly into my ear. I hadn't noticed when, but his hand was wrapped securely around my arm. He led me away from the table, out of the OR and into the hallway where he stood in front of the elevator. The entire time my sobs never ceased and neither did the grip he had on my arm.

He let go before we left the elevator. Outside, many of what were probably his men waited for us. They lined the hallways. I felt like a sheep being herded by big, powerful, scary wolves. Tears were still running down my face as I made eye contact with my Chief of Surgery and Resident Chief. I had grown close with them over the years, and now they were watching me be escorted out of the hospital.

They knew what this meant. I was taken. The mafia had me now. Tears ran down their faces, and the faces of my coworkers who I loved like family. I tried to keep my head up to let them know I would be okay, but I couldn't help the way my shoulder shook from my sobs.

James helped me into a black car. In the front seat was a blonde, with a driver who had dark skin and short hair. I didn't try to hide the fact that I wanted to be anywhere but here. I felt exhausted, more emotionally than mentally.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "Home." James said, adjusting the cuff of his dress shirt. "I hate you, James Barnes." I said, defeat laced in my tone. "Please, call me Bucky." he said. He sounded sad. That bastard. How did he have the nerve to be sad when he is the one who chose to steal me out of my OR. "What are you going to do when I kill myself?" I asked. "You won't kill yourself." the driver spoke up. "Sam-" the blonde said in a nervous and warning tone.

"She won't." he said, looking at the blonde. "You're y/n y/l/n. You're a surgeon." he said, looking at me through the rearview mirror. Everyone's attention was on him as he refocused on the road. "You saved my sister's life, Sarah Wilson. Pancreatic cancer. Four hours after being in your OR she was cancer free. We were told to start planning her funeral. I was signing paperwork to legally adopt my nephews, but you saved her life." he looked into the rearview mirror at me again. "Thank you."

We arrived at "home". During the long ride to the outskirts of Brooklyn, I learned that the blonde's name is Steve. He and Sam were Bucky's seconds in command. Steve helped with the dirty stuff like interrogations, and dealing with orders and shipments of weapons. Sam helped as well but he was also really good at chauffeuring Bucky wherever he needed to go.

There was a very very long gravel driveway leading up to Bucky's huge mansion. It was pretty, I had to admit. Nice dark brick with ivy, a beautiful garden that I bet Steve helped out with, and a peaceful fountain in the center of the drive. I noticed more fountains in the garden area. We had passed tall black iron gates on the way in, giving me an eerie feeling of what the interior of the mansion would be like. Probably dark and scary.

Boy, was I wrong. The inside was beautiful. White marble stairs, golden curtains and natural light everywhere. It felt soft and safe, while still looking professional and wealthy. I was scared to touch anything, it all looked so clean and like everything was in its place.

Bucky dismissed Sam and Steve, leading me up the stairs and to the right of the hall. We walked for quite a bit before he turned into a room. "This is yours. You are to sleep here and I will have all of your stuff here in the next two weeks." He turned to face me, "My office is down the hall to the left, first hall to your right. My room is down the hall to the right, first room on your left hand side. If you need anything, ask me, Sam or Steve. Nobody else lives here but the four of us." he sounded so calm and collected. Did he steal people often?

"I don't live here." I corrected him. The quirk in his eyebrow let me know I shouldn't have spoken. I didn't care. It couldn't get any worse than this. "You do live here. You will not leave this property until you ask me for permission and you have been assigned an escort." "I do not live here! You do not own me, and I am going home. I have to go to work, and I will not stay here." I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to say something.

"Y/n, you live here. Your father promised me his first born daughter just before your mother got pregnant. He was a horrible man, you knew that. Your mother never knew about the deal. You are mine and you will not be leaving. Are we clear?" I hated how the tone of his voice made me clench my thighs together, but I hated even more how he was speaking to me and how he thought he could just keep me here.

"No! I will not stay here! You stole me out of my OR while I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SURGERY! An open heart surgery. A poor young girl's life was in my hands, Bucky!!!! You could have killed her!! She was INNOCENT!! I hate you. She could have died. Her parents have been in and out of hospitals with her for six years!! Six years, Bucky! She is six years old and her whole life has been within the walls of hospitals and I had a chance to change that. You could have ruined her life and I hate you." I was so angry, tears were running down my face again. I felt warm and exhausted. The urge to just sleep and hope this was a really really bad dream came over me. "Get out." I spat through my teeth, daring him to challenge my order.

He almost looked pitiful as he left my room and closed the door behind him.

The bed was uncomfortable, and I had none of my own possessions. Bucky had come in later to apologize, which fell on deaf ears. He had thankfully given me one of his shirts and some sweatpants before he went back to his office. The sheets on the bed were scratchy, and his pants were too warm.

At around 2 a.m, after no luck at sleeping, I slipped out of my room and headed towards his office, just like he had directed. I figured he would be there, being a surgeon I know what it's like to stay up late to get work done, especially if you're stressed. Which I assume he was after kidnapping someone.

I opened the door slowly to reveal Bucky. His jacket was discarded and a few of the buttons on his shirt were undone. "What are you doing here?" He asked after looking up at me. I felt his gaze rake over my body, now only clad in his shirt and a pair of my underwear. "I need your help," I said calmly. I was desperate after only a few hours with this man. I felt pathetic.

Bucky's eyebrow quirked, encouraging me to continue. "My dog, Joe is probably watching her. I wouldn't know because you took my phone, but that's what I'm assuming." he looked intrigued, with his head tilted to the side and his hands still instead of typing. "If Joe isn't watching her, she only has enough food and water for one day, unless she drinks out of the toilet bowl, but I don't really want her to do that, not that it isn't clean! But she's a big dog and-" "y/n." His cold voice stopped me right in my tracks. Shit. This is probably where he refuses to help me get my dog.

"Please," my eyes began to water at the thought of her at home, all alone, wondering where I went, and then possibly starving to death without anyone to take care of her. "She's my best friend, and I promise she won't be any trouble, I'll pay for everything, I'll even pay a rent fee or something! I just really need my dog back." I think he could see my lip wobble because that look of pity from earlier came back.

"I used to have a dog," his voice surprised me just as much as his words. I looked up at him inquisitively, "She was a Great Dane named Nala. I get it. I'll arrange to pick her up tomorrow, and some of your things later in the week." "Thank you." I whispered before turning to leave his office.

"What's her name?" I heard just before I reached the door. "Hazel," I smiled at the memory of her. "She's an Irish wolf hound." I said sheepishly. at my confession, he smiled. "Goodnight y/n." "Goodnight Bucky."

It's been a week since we got Hazel, and Bucky has seemed kinder and kinder every day. It was probably just because Hazel was such a good dog, but a part of me hoped I helped to make him happier too. When I brought it up to Steve and Sam they had both agreed it wasn't just my dog.

Another night rolled around and I still didn't have anything else of my own. I had been sharing clothes with all three of the men, including underwear. The night was the worst time for me, always leaving me frustrated at my inability to get comfortable enough to sleep. Hazel had no problems, sleeping soundly at the foot of my bed just like she would at home. Or my old house? Was this place really my home?

At 1 a.m, when I hadn't heard any movement in a while I snuck out to Bucky's bedroom where I knew he wouldn't be. He was still in his office working, I knew because I hadn't heard him walk to his room, something he doesn't usually do until at least 3 a.m. Hazel had decided to follow me, making this a bit harder to get away with when being followed by a huge Irish wolfhound.

Slowly, I opened the door to his bedroom. It was gorgeous. He had an abundance of pillows, a soft blanket at the end of his bed and thick creamy coloured duvet. Dark wood furniture decorated the room, complemented by dark curtains and hunter green walls. The place was gorgeous and very well decorated. I moved closer to his bed and found an extra soft blanket under the duvet. I slid it out and draped it over Hazel's back so my hands could hold other stuff. I grabbed a body length grey pillow, deciding he wouldn't miss it for one night.

Before he came to his room, we scurried back to my bed as quietly as possible, Hazel not dropping the blanket once.

"That's the best she's slept in weeks, boss." I could hear voices outside of my bedroom. Steve. The curtains were closed, so it was still nice and dark in my room, then another voice spoke, "Really? She hasn't been sleeping well this whole time?". Bucky. "No, she tosses and turns all night. Honestly, I would too if I didn't have anything of my own.". Sam. "She likes your pillow though." Steve commented.

I didn't want to get up yet but I didn't want to be watched either. I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my head to see the three men in my doorway. Steve and Sam smiled before walking away with waves directed at me. I waved back before focusing my gaze on Bucky.

"I see you like my stuff." he smirked, slowly making his way towards my bed. Hazel jumped off to go find food, her bowls had been placed in the kitchen. "You know, it's wrong to steal sweetheart." Bucky was looking down at me now, his hands in the pockets of his neat dress pants. "You left me with no other choice," I said without much confidence.

"I don't have any of my things, and these sheets are god awful and scratchy." "Maybe I just like seeing you in my clothes," he hummed. A warm blush coated my cheeks as he leaned closer. "You're kinda cute sweetheart." At this point I could smell his minty breath, and feel it as well. "Give me my stuff, and you'll get yours back." I suggested before flopping down on my bed and pulling the covers over me, specifically the blanket I stole right off of his own bed.

He laughed before tugging at the blanket to reveal me clinging to his body sized pillow like a koala. I refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping my eyes closed. "I can't sleep unless I'm comfortable." I stated.

"I get that. We'll have Steve pick your stuff up, but you can keep the pillow." he winked.

That afternoon, Bucky had sat down and had lunch with me. He made eggs, bacon and fluffy toast. I helped a little, making us tea and setting the plates at the black marble island.

"So, I was thinking, you can start working remotely until they absolutely need you back at the hospital." his eyes met mine, waiting for a reaction. I was excited, but I tried not to show it too much since I really shouldn't have been taken from the hospital in the first place. "Then, once I'm sure it's safe, you can go back."

"Safe?" How did my safety play into this decision? I was confused, I was always safe at the hospital, save for the occasional confused patient. "Y/n, your father had a lot of enemies, quite a few of them are associated with other mafias, none as well built or known as my own. He promised you to me in hopes that peace could be made, but he betrayed several of his promises and upset more people than he could handle. Because they can't get to your father, they might get to you next."

"Fine. But I need to get to the hospital sooner rather than later. I have a million patients and I've missed so many rounds. For all I know, Lena could be out of the hospital by now. I haven't had contact with anyone for weeks." I sighed, to which he frowned at. "I know, and I do feel bad but I also care about your safety."

I blushed at his admittance, not used to being romantically cared for. Over the days that turned into weeks, we had grown to like each other. Maybe this arrangement would end up working after all.

"Fuck."

Bucky had given me a space to work within his office, so that's where I was when I heard a string of curses and muffled groans near midnight. The door suddenly swung open, revealing a bloody and battered Bucky.

"James?" I asked. "Hey -shit- y/n/n." He clutched his right arm to his abdomen. There was so much blood from so many different places. "It looks like you need my help," I sassed, getting up to help him settle down on the leather couch. His "yeah" was cut off by a groan. "I need to take your shirt off, okay?" Concern was surely painted on my face as I saw his blood soaked jacket.

"At least buy me dinner first," he laughed. "Ha ha. I'm glad you're in a decent mood," I said while starting to unbutton his white work shirt. I rolled up the sleeves of his black Henley that I was borrowing. He had three major wounds: one on his cheek, one on his right arm and one located on his lower abdomen.

"This is going to hurt," I warned, getting the first aid kit from across the room and preparing the peroxide. He hissed as I poured it over every wound, dabbing them after with gauze. "You're doing great," I tried to smile sympathetically while remaining focused.

"I'm going to stitch your face first, okay?" I asked, getting the supplies ready. "I don't need stitches." he countered. "Bucky, this wound is deep and it's not going to stop bleeding until I close it. You need stitches." "Doll, I'm fine, just leave it."

"Right! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I forgot that you had a medical degree." I said sarcastically. He blushed in return and stayed still while I started to stitch his cheek.

A part of me wanted to make a jab about being out of practice, due to being kidnapped from the hospital, but I held back. Bucky was a good man and we were starting to bond and get along way better than I had ever anticipated. I learned that he had a sister, Steve had been his best friend since highschool, and he had inherited the mafia from his father.

James was a man who loved dogs, and making sure the ones he loved were safe, from his best friend all the way down to Anne, the maid and housekeeper. Another hiss pulled me from my thoughts. "Sorry," I winced. "Almost done."

"Thank you" he said after I patched each site with gauze and polysporin. "Anytime." "I guess we make more sense than I thought." he said as we sipped coffee in the kitchen. "How so?" I laughed. "A surgeon and a mafia boss. I could use you doll." He smiled. I tilted my head to the side in mock offense. " 's that all I am to you? A good pair of hands to tend to your messes, Mr. Barnes?" I asked. "No no no! I just mean that we make sense, you know?" I smiled at him over my mug. "I know."

He started leaning closer to me, to the point where I could feel his breath on my lips. Bucky's eyes met mine over the small table, his flesh hand coming up to cup my cheek, the other resting its cooler touch on my neck, pulling me in. I never fought once, instantly kissing him back when I felt his lips meet mine.

I sighed into the kiss, letting him hold my face and tip it back. His tongue caressed my lower lip before bringing it into his mouth, sucking on it tenderly. My hand moved to cover his flesh one, leaning into his touch slightly. He inhaled me as he pulled back. I felt my face flush and go warm and his hungry gaze, as if I was his prey and he wanted to devour me whole. "Bucky," I panted.

He smirked devilishly. "You like that, doll?" I nodded dumbly at his question. Bucky's eyes creased at the corners when he smiled, tilting his head down to look at me. "I like you," I whispered. He leaned closer, "I like you too, printessa."

Over the weeks, I had started sharing Bucky's room with him. I had an abundance of plush blankets and soft pillows to cuddle with. He had started coming to bed earlier, and I have started back at the hospital. Joe and my other friends missed me while I was away, and I can guarantee that I missed them just as much, if not more. My Resident Chief and Chief of Surgery both cried when they saw me walk back into the hospital lobby, happy and unharmed.

Life was good again, and I finally felt peace.

[janitorhutcherson]

hi! can you do a fluff piece with Mike where he expresses his love to the reader through the different love languages? (like words of affirmation, gift giving, physical touch, acts of kindness, and quality time?) I feel like he would be especially great at acts of kindness with cooking :) thanks!

hii omg this is such a cute idea. this is gonna be quickish i’m sorry, i’ll totally do a longer one later. if y’all like it i’ll maybe make a series?!? but for now just a silly little blurb.

i feel like mike would be very loving and showing his love to you would be extremely important. like, extremely important. so he’d def be the kind of guy to take all of these seriously, even if they weren’t… easy… for him since expressing emotions doesn’t come as natural.

words of affirmation: words of affirmation is one of my favorite love languages. this is one that doesn’t come easy for mike — and not because he doesn’t love you, but just because he can’t really express himself well. if you’re like me, being reassured, told you’re doing great, etc, is important to you. mike would do his very best to remind you every day how important you are to him, leaving the occasional note in the morning before you head to work. it may say something like, “Reminder I am so proud of you for everything you do. I love you, baby!” he’s also ramble to you at night sometimes, just telling you how much he loves you. if you were ever down, he’d make sure to sit you down and point out all of the things he loves about you, physically and mentally.

gift giving: okay i feel like this is a big one. money doesn’t come very easily for mike. after he got “fired” (that’s what he pretends happened!😜), he had to find another job that still had shitty pay. his resume didn’t make him a great candidate for anything high quality. with that being said, every month he attempts to scrape up enough money to make you a little gift basket. it varies from month to month, depending on how much he was able to save. sometimes they’d be big baskets he’d have abby help him pick stuff out for. there may be a fuzzy blanket, some candies, face masks, maybe a candle. sometimes they’d be smaller, just a little note and some candy, maybe a stuffed animal from the dollar store. regardless of how big or small, you always appreciated it when you’d walk into your shared home and see it sitting on the table.

physical touch: oh my god i think this one is a huge one for mike. given his past, he is so touch starved. every second he gets, his hands are on you. of course, at night he loves to curl up with you in bed. he’ll have his arms tightly wrapped around you, playing with your hair or maybe rubbing your back. even when he dips down on the bed to tie his shoes in the morning, he keeps his hand on your sleeping shoulder until he absolutely has to move it. he’s the same way out in public. at the supermarket, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist when you’re standing in line for something. when you’re out to eat, his hand will be on your knee underneath the table. when you’re cooking at home, he will always come and wrap himself up behind you, moving with you to the point that it’s slightly obnoxious, but you don’t mind. as long as he’s with you.

acts of kindness: i so agree that this would be a big one for him that he’d be good at. before you, mike was a one trick pony when it came to cooking, and for that, he could barely do it. he could make something that was edible enough to be spaghetti. once you two started dating, he learned for you. he wanted to be able to make your favorite dishes and desserts. he surprises you all the time when he’s off of work or if he gets off before you, making your favorite dish and having it served up on the table with candles when you walk in the door after work. he’s also big on doing things like running you baths, putting the bubbles in and the epsom salts in. sometimes he’d get into it with you, holding you. i also think he’d like to take showers with you. if you struggle with mental health at all, i think he’d be the type of partner to help you wash your hair. of course he’d do chores for you sometimes, knocking out necessary errands. overall he’s a very loving partner who will do anything to make you smile.

quality time: quality time is something that isn’t easy to get. as much as you love abby, alone time is especially hard to come by. since mike is working day shifts now, you two will do your best to have a late night together at least once a week. you’re both usually pretty exhausted, taking care of abby, working, running errands. but once a week, usually on a friday night, you both stay up until 3am/4am, just talking, snacking, maybe watching a movie. otherwise, for quality time, he makes sure to sneak some time in with you here in there. he’d make sure to run simple errands with you, maybe even to sit with you at the nail salon. i also think he’d love to help you cook, go shopping. any chance he’d get to spend time with you, he’d take it.

[hellfireclubmember]

Secret Nerd PT 2

Someone requested this and I can't find the ask so I am sorry. I'm also sorry for literally taking forever to get to it.

part 1

Summary: Eddie, who may or may not be in love with you, finds out you like LOTR.

Warning(s): lots of steve fluff but eddie angst, unrequited love, not proof read

pairing(s): boyfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader, platonic!in love!eddie munson x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

Siouxsie and the Banshees was softly playing through the dimly lit shop. The stacks of new records were beginning to lose their height as you sorted them out into their appropriate bins. There was dust in the air from the number of bins you were kicking out of the way. Usually there was someone to help you with the heavy lifting, but it was 10 AM on a Tuesday. A time void of customers.

“(Y/N)!!” Eddie’s voice boomed through the store.

There was something almost pathetic about how fast a smile appeared on your face when you heard him. You loved it when Eddie visited you at work. He always made your shift go by at Mach speeds. He helped you on inventory days, walking around holding piles of records all whilst giving you free music advice. Which was really just him complaining about anything you put on the loudspeaker. Because according to the dramatic mop of hair, ‘your music taste would be perfect if you just cut out all the moody, creepy whining.’

“I know you’re in here, short stack! Only you would be playing Siouxsie.” You could hear the eyeroll from across the store.

“Yeah, whatever, act like I haven’t seen you nod your head to Happy House.” You walked onto the main floor where Eddie was sitting on the counter, next to the Madonna cassettes. “Nice of you to come see me, Edward.”

“No need to continue the act, (Y/L/N).” His face was stone cold, eyes blank. Last time he looked that severe, he was being told that Hellfire couldn’t use the theatre room because the basketball team had booked it last second. Not a good day to be around Hellfire’s dungeon master. Mike, Dustin and Lucas avoided him for two days, just to be safe.

“You don’t have to pretend to be friends with me any longer; for I have been told the truth.” He hopped off the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Megadeth graphic plastered on his black tee. “The lady lies.”

“Me lady?” You pointed your finger to your chest, confused as you could be. “I lie?” Brows furrowed as you thought of any fib you might’ve muttered out lately.

“You lie! If we were friends, you would’ve never kept your love for Lord of the Rings from me!” he exclaimed, hand on his forehead. In that moment, the appreciation you had for Eddie’s dramatics had been replaced with a strong urge to kill. You should’ve guessed it though; it had been exactly one day and one night since you had admitted it to Dustin. And Dustin is a HUGE blabber mouth. The boy did not stop.

“Ah, heard about that huh?”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” He rudely mimicked your voice and glared at you. “This entire time, when I was holding stacks of Duran Duran for you, we could’ve been talking about Boromir’s heroic sacrifice.” It was taking everything in Eddie not to crack. He couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you look all pouty. You were all frown lines and crossed arms.

The small crush Eddie had on you seemed to grow at speeds that would leave NASA’s head spinning. When you were first introduced, he didn’t think much of you. Some chick he saw at school occasionally, walking with Nancy or laughing with faceless losers. You were one of the rare people that didn’t move to the other side of the hallway when he walked by, so he definitely remembered you when Dustin was pushing him toward the group. He already knew you were dating Steve, how could he not? ‘Steve’s girlfriend’ was your identifier. And back then, there was nothing he cared less about. Currently it’s something that didn’t let him sleep at night.

Eddie was never sure what love would feel like; and now he knew what both love and heartbreak felt like. Even so, he was never truly sad, not when he could spend time with you like this. The faux vexed look you were forcing onto your face was enough to crush any self-pity swelling in his chest. Besides, he knew that there was no way he had a chance. You loved Steve, and Eddie knew there was no one else you would rather love.

“You would be a Boromir kind of guy.”

Eddie held his hand over his chest as if he were hit with an arrow. “A woman after my own heart.” He fell onto the counter he was previously sitting on.

“Where’s my pretty girl?” The voice of the sandy haired man was heard before he was seen. Eddie watched your eyes light up before you walked around the counter toward the door.

“Hi, Stevie.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. Steve was like a giant, human Xanax. He made every muscle in your body relax, every racing thought slow down. You squeezed him tight and took a deep breath. Steve loved your hugs. You hugged him as if he had gone away for years at a time.

Steve’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he kissed the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“Aw I missed you more, Harrington.” Eddie stood behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was trying his best to look as big as possible. Even if he did know you loved Steve, it did not keep him from messing with him as often as he could.

There was really very little things Eddie could do about the pesky feelings that clawed at his chest when your eyes reached his. He knew that at some point they would slowly fizzle out, like the bubbles in his favorite beer. But for now, he was going to enjoy them. Enjoy looking at you smile, hearing you laugh, rolling your eyes, even putting away those annoying records and cassettes. Even if the image of you stuck to Harrington chunked away at his health. He was used to piecing his heart back together with the scraps of time he could spend with you. Eddie knew what his role was in life and getting the girl wasn’t part of it. It was devastating but his songs had never been better.

You felt Steve’s body tense up. “Man, you’re in here a lot.” He kept a possessive arm around your shoulders. “You wouldn’t want my girl or anything, would you?”

Your head snapped up to look at your boyfriend. That was a really jerky thing to say. Something King Steve would say. Which is what was the most surprising bit, with all the effort Steve put in to distance himself with his asshole high school self. All his other moments of jealousy were pretty tame, cute even. But he was being a jerk to your friend, and it was very upsetting.

Eddie scoffed. “I could never. That would be really dumb of me, right?” He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, his lips placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I bid your farewell, fair maiden. I have dragons to slay and whatnot.”  

The sunlight from outside painted the walls of the record store once Eddie opened the door. The second he was out of ear shot you finally spoke to Steve.

“I hate it when you’re like that.” Steve looked over at you when he heard your voice, and your frown was like a shot to the heart. He was no stranger to your cute angry face, but he knew when you were really upset. That frown looks nothing like the one you shoot him when he steals some of your fries. And he knew why you were upset. He was being a douche bag. As he was saying the words, he knew they were very asshole things to say but he couldn’t stop it. Steve couldn’t help how angry Eddie’s heart eyes made him.

“C’mon baby. He was flirting with you.” He tried to reason with you, walking around the counter to where you were counting some cassettes. “He has to know he can’t have you. Even if you’re all nerdy too.”

“Steve, Eddie isn’t a threat to you.” You turned around to face him. “Just cuz we both like..”

“I know. God, I know he’s not. I’m not insecure, sweets.” He put his hand on your right hip. Looking down at you. “I know I was made for you ‘cus there’s no one out there that loves you like I do.” He let go of your hip and found your hand. A perfect fit, but he already knew that. If that thing about an invisible string was true, he knew you were both knotted up together. Like those impossible knots on your necklaces, the ones you have Steve work out for you.

The anger that you felt for Steve dissipated and turned to another familiar feeling. Adoration. Love. Loving Steve has been the easiest thing you have ever done. He made it so easy. With his honey coated words and his pretty pink lips that kiss away all your worries.

“I just wish you would be nice to Eddie. He’s done nothing but be good friend to me.” There was a part of Steve that knew you were right. He was a good friend, not just to you but to multiple of his own friends. But the part of him that knew he was in love with you made him want to pummel Eddie.

“I just hate that he thinks about you the way I do.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “It should be illegal. I should put in a word with Hop, get him arrested or something.” Another kiss on the tip of your nose. “In fact, get every loser that thinks they have a chance with you and through ‘em in jail.” Another kiss to your forehead. He saw the way you were biting back a smile when he pulled away.

“Just please stop being an asshole okay?” His finger found your sides and he started to poke, making you giggle and squirm away.

“If you insist, angel.” His lips pressed to yours for a long kiss.  

taglist: @slashersluttt @slurmp69 @sadbitchfangirl @actual-mom-steve-harrington @stylesyourmine @pennyllanne @johnricharddeacy

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Closer

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, some cheesy lines, the story behind that kiss people were curious about, a back rub, nudity... I don't think I have to tag anything 18+ yet.... hm...

A/N: Well... I'd say I'm sorry but I'd be lying... (But we're getting there, I promise.)

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

“So,” Mike continues his story as he pours the last of the bottle of wine you’d shared over dinner, “my mom tried to throw a chair at his head when she found out, but it turned out to be a really heavy chair she couldn’t lift, so that plan went down the drain real fast… In the end, she just kicked him out and had the locks changed the same night.”

“Wait, so your dad had several side pieces and your mom still stayed with him?” you ask in disbelief, stressing that if Mike tried to pull that shit on you, you’d at least castrate him. “And I’d find a lighter chair to throw.”

First, he laughs, but then his face turns serious again: “She didn’t stay with him. They were actually divorced for nearly ten years.”

“And they got back together?”

Mike nods. “Yeah – which mom didn’t tell me about, so I just about strangled dad when I saw him in the kitchen somewhere halfway through my second year of college… I’m still not completely used to living with the guy again.”

“So your mom kissing Sy was… when they were still split up?”

“Yeah…” It’s immediately obvious that Mike doesn’t really like to talk about this. “There was this guy, Dave, she was with him for a while. He tried really hard to be my dad, which I didn’t like, so I was glad to see him go. I had just started college when he broke it off, and it left my mom in a bad place, because things had been getting serious and whatnot.” Mike sighs as he remembers the story. “Then one night she’s been drinking and Sy shows up because he’d promised her to take a look at her car or some shit… She kissed him. And then me, Will and Evan walked in on that.”

“I can’t even imagine what the worst part of that must have been,” you say as you stare at Mike wide-eyed.

“Oh, that’s easy!” he says immediately. “The worst was by far the fact that Will and Evan – for the next six months – wouldn’t shut up about Sy becoming my new step daddy.” The way he says it is so amusing that you almost spit your wine over the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing,” you say.

“No, that’s pretty much the only thing that works,” he laughs. “We still joke about it. I don’t always appreciate it, but… My dad was even worse about it than I was, he couldn’t look at Sy for a while after he heard about what had happened. They’re cool now though.”

Mike downs the last of his wine right when you take your last sip, and as soon as you put your empty glasses on the table, the atmosphere in the room changes. You look at Mike, and he stares back at you, but neither of you says anything.

Finally, Mike breaks the silence: “I’m, eh… I’m going to take a shower. You can hang on the couch while I’m gone, if you want…”

“Mike,” you say, one eyebrow raised. He looks up at you and hums. “I’m going to wait for you in bed.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush anything…” Oh for fuck’s sake! You cut him off immediately.

“Mike! We’ve been trying to hook up for nearly two months now! We’re a solid six weeks past rushing anything.” You get up and walk over to him. As soon as you’re standing behind his chair, you throw your arms around his neck and bend down to put your head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait any longer.” Mike shivers and swallows hard when you put your lips on his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me right now?”

“Eh…” He looks embarrassed when he speaks again. “I really need that shower…” Oh? Oh. Right. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this for weeks.

Your heart flutters when you hear the water turn off, and it doesn’t take Mike long to appear in the doorway. He’s wearing those goddamn grey sweatpants from that thirst trap with the turtles – and the legion of shameless pics after that. It’s annoying how good he looks in those sweats.

The night of the campfire had already shown you his hair gets adorably curly when wet, but it somehow looks even better today. You swallow hard when he walks towards the bed and climbs in. With a remote you hadn’t noticed, he turns off the big ceiling light of the room, and strings of fairy lights come on that are wrapped around the posts of the bed.

“Safer than candles,” Mike says, “ask my mom how they came to that conclusion.”

“I don’t want to talk or think about your parents right now, Mike,” you laugh. “Had a nice shower?”

“Very,” he says with a big grin on his face, “did you enjoy yourself in the meantime?” The real answer is ‘no’, but you’re not going to tell him that. Every second he spent in that shower, you spent getting worked up over whatever is going to happen now that he’s out of the shower – which means you’re both horny and terrified right now. What if those past weeks have sent your expectations soaring, and everything is going to be a major disappointment?

With great difficulty, you push away those thoughts, taking a deep breath before leaning over to kiss Mike. Unfortunately, he’s already picked up on your nerves.

“You look a little tense, baby,” he mutters after giving you a small peck on your lips. Something in his tone tells you that he knows just the thing to get you to relax. He reaches for the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a bottle you can’t read the label of. “Turn around, lose the top,” he commands. Shit.

“Eh…” You had a plan. That plan included a new set of lingerie that cost you half of your last paycheck, and you had planned on actually showing that to him… but not like this. On another note: Why does he have to pick up on your distress immediately?

“Ooooh, what are you wearing underneath those pajamas?” he muses, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you close. Curious hands slip underneath the satiny fabric of your babydoll, exploring the lace of the one-piece you have on. “Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see, lemme see…”

“Mikey!” you shriek when he pulls you down onto the mattress and practically rips your pajamas off your body.

“This is very nice, Sweetcheeks,” he says when he’s finally looking at you in the black body you’d picked out for the occasion. He’s trying really hard not to let you know how impatient he is to get you out of it, but he fails miserably, because he’s incredibly impatient to get you out of it.

“All of this is wasted on you, isn’t it?” you ask.

He smiles apologetically. “It’s covering up what I like best about your body,” he pouts. “Boobies shouldn’t be confined to uncomfortable lace and underwire contraptions! They should be free!”

“A big feminist and supporter of the ‘Free the Nipple’-movement, I see,” you tease.

He smirks down at you and shrugs. “Listen, that has nothing to do with this. I like this thing, I appreciate the effort, but I still want to take it off. Is that wrong?”

You shake your head and pull him in for a kiss. “It’s not.”

��I’m happy I got to see it. It looks really good on you, and it’s going to look even better on the floor.”

“Oh! Cheesy cliché, no boobies for Mikey!” you push him off and turn around. Wrong move. His hands are at the back immediately where he undoes the clasp of your underwear and somehow pulls it down seemingly effortlessly, and flings it somewhere.

“I was, like, super disappointed about the ‘no boobies’ thing, but now that I see your ass…” You shriek in surprise when Mike somehow manages to bite your butt.

“Don’t bite me!” The hand you throw back towards where you know his head must be hits Mike right in the forehead.

“Don’t hit me!” he retorts, wrapping his arms around you. He’s on top of you now, you’re both laughing, neither of you is in a comfortable position, you’re naked – he’s not, and the whole situation is silly to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. Mike pretend-attacks your neck, playfully growling and sort of tickling you…

“Unhand me, you deeply unserious man!” you laugh, and Mike stops – it makes you sad, even though it’s exactly what you asked for.

“What kind of an insult is that?” he asks, and you shrug. It wasn’t meant as an insult, per se. Mike rolls off you again and lies down next to you. “Am I ruining the mood?” he asks sincerely.

“Not at all!” you answer. “I like when you’re like this! You’re funny and sweet. And – correct me if I’m wrong – you’re silly like this with your cats, too. And with your friends. With all the people you care about. I like that I’m one of them.”

Mike looks at you as if you just lit a block of ice on fire. “I’ve heard ‘obnoxious’, ‘annoying’, ‘immature’, ‘weird’… all kinds of shit. But never ‘funny and sweet’.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve been dating the wrong girls.” You know for a fact he’s been dating the wrong girls, because until now, none of the girls were, well… you.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs before propping himself up on his elbow. “If I remember correctly, I was on my way to giving you a back rub when you annoyingly put nice lingerie in my way. You still want in on that?”

Would ‘I want you to rub the inside of my pussy with your cock’ be too crude a reply to that? You quickly decide against the answer and just respond to his question with a decisive nod. As impatient as you are to get laid… That back rub does sound nice.

Mike’s hands are absolute magic; they’re big and strong and putting pressure in all the right places. Of course, he’s also relentlessly teasing you with soft touches, trailing his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. Soon, his tongue follows suit, trailing your shoulder, and you’re left wondering… “Don’t you have a mouth full of disgusting massage oil now?”

“Sweetcheeks, puh-lease,” he says, and you can hear the eyeroll in his voice, “I came prepared! This stuff is edible.” Of course it is!

“Can I try it?” Zero style points for your reaction – it’s a little too enthusiastic. As you turn slightly, you feel Mike’s hips grinding into your ass, and for the first time you notice he’s hard. How did he do such a good job at hiding that when he was literally sitting right on top of you?

Without thinking you stick your tongue out when his thumb comes within reach of it, and equally thoughtlessly, you suck it into your mouth, leaving Mike sitting there, wide-eyed and with open mouth, groaning softly as you swirl your tongue around his finger. He was right, the oil is edible. It tastes sweet, fruity… Like mango?

“Fuck, Sweetcheeks,” he moans, “do those skills transfer?” You can’t get mad at that – in fact, you have to try really hard not to laugh. When he pulls his hand back, you’re disappointed – which gets even worse when he turns you back onto your stomach, pressing his lips to your neck and whispers: “I wasn’t done with you.”

He continues where he left off, and just when you’re about ready to melt into the mattress under his touch, he moves down…

“Mike, this is not a back rub anymore,” you laugh when his hands move over your ass, squeezing everywhere they can reach. It still feels nice, but… No, just that. Feels nice, that’s all.

“I never said I was going to stop there.” His voice comes from further down than you think, and then he sinks his teeth into your ass cheek again. You moan loudly as Mike keeps working your lower back and ass. When he eventually moves even lower, to the back of your thighs, you clench your legs together. “Let me touch you,” he moans as he slowly kisses a trail over your ass and up your lower back.

“Are you going to tease me?” you ask softly.

“Relentlessly, I promise,” Mike chuckles while making his way back up. From there, he pays attention to your arms and hands – interesting and very relaxing to the point where…

“Mike, I’m going to doze off if you keep going,” you sigh, when it becomes obvious that your legs are getting the same treatment. Without thinking, you turn around when he sits at the foot of the bed, and he pulls both of your feet into his lap. The backrub was great, but this? “Wow,” you moan – loudly.

Mike takes his time with every part of your body, and you silently curse yourself for teasing him for being impatient. Nothing about him right now is even slightly impatient. Well. One thing about him is impatient… His girlfriend.

Finally – fucking finally – he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, placing soft, teasing kisses on your skin, from your ankle all the way to your thigh and then… He makes his way up your stomach and chest, until his lips are on yours again.

“No, Mike, this is unfair, go back down,” you whine in between kisses.

“Eh,” he mutters, “I – eh – I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” you ask. “Go down?” Slightly disappointing, but not a complete disaster, why is he acting so… shy and insecure?

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, you think that’s it, but then he lies down next to you, burying his face in your neck. “Remember the horrible bitch ex? She told me I was no good at it and shouldn’t bother doing it again, and I’ve never… I’m scared to fuck it up now, and also scared to tell anyone, so whenever I got with a girl after that, she thought I was an asshole for not eating her out and… Please don’t think I’m a jerk, please?”

“Mikey,” you say sternly, “I don’t think you’re a jerk. I want to punch that whore in the face, though.” He hums softly when you circle your fingers over his scalp. “If you ever want to try again, I’ll tell you what I like?”

[strangertheory]

Letting my fine art & art history major out for a hot second. (I always knew my degree would be useful! 😂 It is actually. Jokes aside...)

But, anyways!

This:

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E5; Chapter Five, The Flea and The Acrobat - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘣 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘔𝘳. 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you."

'I can't believe I'm at Will's funeral.'

"Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." The pastor continued.

I spared a glance at the people around me.

I looked to Jonathan, his head bowed, and poor Joyce who was sitting nearby.

I can't imagine what they must be going through.

Joyce was like a second mother to me, and she has always treated as if I was one of her own. I'll always be grateful for that. I lay a hand on her shoulder.

She looks up to me confused like I had pulled her deep out of her thought, upon seeing it was me she smiles thankfully. She put her hand over mine and gave it a few gentle pats and then a small stroke with her thumb to say thank you.

I smiled solemnly at her and let go, listening to the rest of the service.

"It's times like these that our faith is challenged. How, if he is truly benevolent... could God take us from someone so young, so innocent?"

I looked down at my feet.

"It would be easy to turn away from God... but we must remember that nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love."

I felt a nudge on my shoulder and turned to look at Dustin. He wore a sly smirk as he looked to his right, past me and Mike.

Frowning in confusion, I turned my head to see what he was smirking about.

"Just wait till we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral." Dustin said cheekily.

I scoffed under my breath, rolling my eyes.

"Since when has she cared about Will? She couldn't even get his name right, remember that week she called him Bill?" I huffed, crossing my arms in distaste.

The boys smirked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Somebody jealous?" Lucas smirked.

"No-! Not ev- Shut up!" I scowl.

The boys giggle earning more than a few concerned and offended glances making me smile to myself. Mrs. Wheeler leaned down and shushed the boys making me smirk more.

'Serves them right.'

Soon enough, the casket had been lowered into the growd and roses had been thrown on top. I made my way to the very side of the grave, looking down.

"I know you're not dead. But I swear to God, if you don't come back I'm gonna kill you." I muttered to the casket in the ground.

As people began to filter out, we watched as Mike's mom said her condolences to Will's parents.

"I'm so, so sorry."

"Oh, thank you so much for coming." Will's dad said.

I never liked him.

Joyce was just standing by herself quietly, her arms crossed looking down at the grave.

"Yeah, if there's anything we can do..." Mr. Wheeler offered, shaking the man's hand.

"I appreciate it. Thank you so much."

I said goodbye to Lucas who had to follow his parents out, even though we would be seeing him later at the wake. I did the same with Mike, and soon enough Mom was waiting for us so we could get to the car.

"Mom, will you give me a minute?"

"Of course, Pumpkin," She smiled at me with sympathy.

I turned around wove through the crowd that had separated me from Joyce. I tapped her on the shoulder, seeming to jostle her from her thoughts a second time.

Upon seeing it was me, she smiled.

"Hi, Ms. Byers."

"Oh, hi Y/n. Thank you, for coming, sweetheart," She smiled.

I captured her in a bear hug and she gladly reciprocated, giving my several comforting strokes.

"Of course. I'm so, so sorry for your loss." I said, letting her go.

"Oh, thank you, honey. T-Tell me, how have you been holding up?" She asked gently.

My eyes welled up.

"I'm not gonna lie, it's- it's been really hard. I just, I just miss him so much. Your son was such a good person. Always a gentleman." I knew what I was saying.

Even if he is alive for sure, everything I said was true. He always has been nothing but kind to me.

Not to mention, I owe him for so much.

She seemed extremely thankful for hearing that and I was glad I could make her genuinely smile on this sad day.

"Really? Oh sweetie, thank you. That means, just so much to me."

I look back to my mom and brother waiting for me by the car, and I return my gaze back to Ms. Byers.

"Um, I better go. My mom is waiting for me. I guess I'll be seeing you at the wake. Goodbye, Ms. Byers."

"Thank you again, Y/n. I'll see you later, okay?" Her face slightly fell and she smiled at me.

I nod and begin walking backward sending a small wave her way before turning around a breaking out into a small jog to catch up to my mom.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Being at the funeral of your best friend is daunting and quite surreal.

Being at the funeral of your best friend who is quite possibly alive in another dimension and you and only four other people know this is a completely different ballpark.

We had all met up at the wake and regrouped.

The plan was to ask Mr. Clarke if there was anything he could tell us about the theories regarding alternate dimensions. I'm just praying that we don't arouse suspicion given the setting.

"Mr. Clarke?" The tall man turned his attention away from the buffet to look at us.

Mr. Clarke smiled sympathetically. "Oh, hey, there."

The somber look came easily to my face as I looked to Mr. Clarke, Mike, and Lucas on either side of me while Dustin was digging into the buffet.

"How are you kids holding up?"

Lucas speaks up for us, slightly distracted by Dustin's blatant chewing. "We're... in... mourning."

"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers," Dustin sighed, shaking his head.

My eyes widen softly, and I look to Mr. Clarke trying to cover for him.

"You'll have to excuse my brother, Mr. Clarke, he's-" I stop midsentence to see him happily munching on more snacks, and look back to Mr. Clarke. "well, he mourns in his own... special way."

"We were wondering if you had time to talk?" Mike asked, wanting to move things along as quickly as possible.

"We have some questions," Lucas added.

I shook my head in agreement. "A lot of questions, actually,"

Mr. Clarke complied and the four of us found ourselves at the nearest table, asking our teacher about other dimensions at our "dead" friends' wake. Not something I ever could have imagined doing.

"So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Segan talks about other dimensions? Like, beyond our world?"

"Yeah, sure. Theoretically." Mr. Clarke replies, noticeably confused at the subject of our questions.

"Right, theoretically,"

"So, theoretically, how do we travel there?" Lucas asked.

"You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett's Many-World's Interpretation, haven't you?" A ghost of a smile on our teacher's face.

"Yeah," I chuckled, nodding my head in response.

The boys looked at me, wondering why I had said that.

I gave them a look that said, 'I don't know, just go with it.'

"Well, basically, there are parallel universes. Just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened," I found myself nodding along, not for the sake of being believable, but actually lost in the idea.

"Yeah, that's not what we're talking about," Lucas sighed, leaning back.

"Oh."

"We were thinking of more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows. You know the Vale of Shadows?" Dustin asked, taking another loud bite of his off brand Nilla Wafers.

Not thinking that our science teacher would know anything about Dungeons and Dragons, I was completely taken aback by his next words.

"An echo of the Material Plane, where necrotic and shadow magic–"

"Yeah, exactly." Mike said cutting him off.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"If that did exist - a place like the Vale of Shadows - how would we travel there?"

"Theoretically, of course." I add.

"Well..."

Mr. Clarke grabbed an empty paper plate and pulled out a pen from his jacket pocket. He then drew a straight line across the paper plate as he spoke, creating a visual for us.

"Picture... an acrobat..." He drew a small stick figure on top of the lines. "standing on a tightrope. Now, the tightrope is our dimension. And our dimension has rules."

He began drawing arrows on either side of the acrobat.

"You can move forwards, or backwards. But, what if..." He drew a very small creature under one of the arrows. "right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?"

"Right." We all agreed.

"Here's where things get really interesting. The flea can also travel this way... along the side of the rope." He drew arrows indicating the flea's direction around and under the rope, causing me to furrow my brows. "He can even go underneath the rope."

The boys and I all shared the same look before returning our gaze to Mr. Clarke. "Upside Down."

"Exactly."

Mike spoke up. "But we're not the flea, we're the acrobat."

"In this metaphor, yes, we're the acrobat."

"So we can't go upside down?" Lucas asked warily.

"No."

"Well, is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?"

"Well," Our teacher furrowed his brows, a thoughtful look coming upon his face. "you'd have to create a massive amount of energy. More than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you, to open up some kind of tear in time and space, and then..."

He folded the paper plate in half, creasing it shut before shoving his pen directly through both sides of the paper plate. "you create a doorway."

"Like a gate?" My brother asked eagerly.

"Sure. Like a gate. But again, this is all–"

"Theoretical." I smile, nodding my head.

"But... but what if this gate already existed?" Mike asked, timidly.

"Well, if it did, I... I think we'd know. It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole."

Mike seems to gauge our reactions, and I'm the only one who met his eye with an equally uncertain gaze.

"Science is neat." Mr. Clarke continued. "But I'm afraid it's not very forgiving."

We all lean back, digesting the information.

[beepboop358]

My Byler theories/predictions for S4

Since s4 is already confirmed to not be the last season, I don’t think Byler will officially get together in s4. I do think that we are definitely going to get a large amount of Byler’s development in s4 though, we just aren’t at the finish line yet. Since Byler has been being developed all through each of the seasons, I think the writers are playing the long game with Mike and Will. I really appreciate a queer romance that is so well developped, especially in something so popular! I think the season will end on a note where it’s understood what Mike has been struggling with, It’s made known that Will is gay, and that Mike has feelings for Will, and Will has feelings for Mike.

My predictions/theories for Byler in s4:

Mike might be acting a little off at school and Dustin is going to notice his odd behavior and ask what’s up

I think Mike will be getting in trouble at school and at home (based on whenever he doesn’t have Will/El around he does stupid things - like graffitti the bathroom wall, plagiarize essays, curse at adults, etc.) I don’t know if Mike knows about Eddie dealing drugs, but he might and he might get drugs from Eddie and do them to cope with everything he is struggling with. His parents might ground him for doing drugs, and forbid him from going to visit the Byers, and then we could get our runaway smalltown boy montage! LOL

Lonnie might come to visit the Byers in California for Will’s birthday. He will probably show up because he thinks they have money now, or he wants to sue Starcourt like he wanted to sue the quarry in s1. Mike will also be there visiting for Will’s birthday. Lonnie will mock Will and make fun of him like he always did, but he will also hate Mike. Lonnie will definitely notice Will and Mike’s dynamics and he will definitely comment about it. He might even call them homophobic slurs like we know he used to do with Will when he was younger. Lonnie will probably make Will cry and Mike upset. Lonnie might possibly “out” him and Mike before they are out and confirm it themselves. Some of the movies on the stranger writers twitter for s4 also hint at this, as well as having the baseball references. There are also hints to Will’s birthday throughout the show: The rainbow happy birthday mug seen in the crazy together scene, the “sorry i forgot your birthday card” in Will’s room from Lonnie, and Joyce’s speech in the shed discussing Will’s 8th birthday and his “rainbow ship”. Jonathan also mentions how Lonnie made him kill a rabbit on his 10th birthday and he cried for a week after, just more hints that if Lonnie shows up for Will’s bday, it’s gonna be bad.

Mike might get Will a watch for his birthday. This would reference the clocks being central to the s4 plot, and “not wanting things to change/turning back the clock” in Hopper’s letter

Will is being homophobically bullied at his new school again, possibly references to Will having HIV/AIDS because the height of the epidemic was in the 80’s and it was very stigmatized

Mike will call Will more than he will call El. Will might be slightly surprised by this, El’s frequent calling will annoy Mike and he might turn off his walkie talkie. (basically the reverse of what Mike said would happen in the s3 ending mileven scene)

Mike and Will will be in the same location for most of the season, like s2. They will not leave each other’s sides for the majority of the time they are together.

S4 Group Predictions:

- El, Will, Mike trio together with Jonathan and Argyle. (we will get some obvious tension between El, Will, and Mike, and Mike will hate Argyle at first)

- Robin, Steve, Erica, Max, Dustin, Lucas, Vickie, Eddie, Nancy

- Joyce, Murray, etc?

- Hopper and the other Russians (Dimitri, etc)

The rift between Mike and El will continue to grow.

When Mike comes to visit, she will notice he seems much more interested in Will.

El will ask why the bullies call Will those things (queer/fairy/gay/homo, probably f slurs too), what it means and if he really is “a queer”.

I don’t know if Will is going to come out to El. They have never interacted before, and I doubt Will trusts her or really likes her much mainly, because of Mike. Unless they get super close during the time not portrayed on screen between s3 and s4, or by being all each other has in California, I don’t know if  he will come out to El. I could see this going either way depending on how their friendship develops. I definitely do not think Will is going to tell El he likes Mike, even if he does confide in her he is gay. I think she will find out eventually but in some other way, probably just from Mike’s behavior towards Will.

El will eventually realize she doesn’t actually love Mike and let go of the ‘romance’ aspect of their bond, but still highly value him as a friend.

Mike might be called homophobic slurs at school as well. Mike will definitely be teased (regardless of his sexuality) because he is in the hellfire club and since satanic panic is sweeping the town, people look at D&D as if it is a satanic game, and he will be teased because of that.

Based on the leaked bts pics, I have a theory a cheerleader, or someone else, might show interest in Mike.  Mike will not reciprocate and she will call him out for it asking why he doesn't like her because “any other guy at this school would” or something like that, maybe even ask “what are you gay or something”. It would certainly be good for Mike’s narrative but idk if it will happen.

Will may confide in Jonathan about his feelings for Mike and the things the bullies say to him at school. Jonathan will be supportive of Will, as will Joyce. I think he will also try to protect Will from Lonnie and they will both defend Will to Lonnie.

I think we need a scene of Mike with his Mom telling him to follow his heart, like who you like, etc. because life is too short to waste it being miserable or something like that. This could be inspired by Mike’s parents seperating, but idk. This could also encourage Mike to initiate more romantic things with Will.

I would love to get a scene of Will confronting Mike for “Joining another party”, after Will said he wouldn’t.

Will and Mike need to discuss what was said in their fight.

I think since Mike's been holding in a lot of turmoil and struggling with his sexuality for so long we might get a small breakdown scene from him, of him telling Will he’s really sorry for how he treated him last summer, and for all the things he said to Will. Mike will profusely apologize and also hint at how he’s confused and been dealing with a lot.

I think Mike will be the first one to break down and confess he has feelings for Will and has been struggling with coming to terms with his sexuality.

Once Will has confirmation Mike is also struggling with his sexuality, Will might come out to him. I would love for him to reference the fight being like “You were right. I don’t like girls.” (from @itsonlystrange ‘s 4x07 byler script it’s so good!) I don't know if Will will confess he likes Mike to his face or not. I don't think it's likely given how shy Will is and how afraid he is of Mike not reciprocating, but who knows.

Mike may initiate a kiss between him and Will - towards the end of the season probably (eyewitness parallel - explained in my byler proof google slides)

I think Mike and Will might write letters to each other, with some love-y connotations. There is a lot of evidence for this in the canon comics of them writing notes to each other, and that cryptic tweet from stranger writers twitter with a blocked out message and the date Will went missing saying it wasn’t about a couple or hopper. Maybe byler related? This tweet may not be a letter but it might be. The most popular theories are that the message is to Will, “love mike”, which I love. https://twitter.com/strangerwriters/status/1184945905973153792?lang=en

Will has a new haircut (bts pics) and Mike will gush over it. Maybe some gay-panicking too hopefully

I think El will be either physically or at least emotionally distant the entire season from the other kids (again following the pattern of even and odd seasons) El needs some personal development this season, since she didn’t get any in s3.

El might confront Mike and ask if he is gay and if he likes Will, which could be El’s motivation to go off on a journey of her own to learn more about her own life. I don’t think it will be a huge fight, but El might make some references to him always lying to her. I think Mike might just kind of try to talk his way out of it at first, but he will eventually break. This might be a two part discussion and Mike doesn’t admit she is right until later. I don’t think it makes sense for El to be heartbroken (explained in my byler proof slides), just slightly annoyed. This is based off of the movie Tootsie which they borrowed the “gift” idea from in s3 already. In the movie, the girlfriend then after receiving the gift asks “Michael” if he is gay.

I really think eventually El will realize it’s okay because she doesn’t love him romantically either, and once she realizes that her own personal development can really begin.

I think we will see a noticeable change in Mike’s demeanor. I think Mike will mainly just be trying to hide that he is gay now. He joined the hellfire club so we know he’s playing d&d again meaning he is reverting back to his true self, not the weird act he put on in s3 trying to be straight and change himself. He is still struggling, but he knows he likes Will. Regardless that doesn’t mean he is going to be super clear about how he feels. He is going to be extremely afraid of opening up and then getting hurt by Will. He will probably do some of his usual ‘lead Will on and then shut it down’ thing. And I really want Will to call him out on this. This could also lead to Mike breaking down in front of Will and confessing. I think we are going to get a lot of 'Mike gay panicking' moments, he's going to be extremely afraid of being found out/suspected.

Byler things I really want to happen that we may get because they would have narrative significance:

I really want flashbacks to those 3 months of summer between the starcourt explosion and the Byers moving, of moments between Mike and Will when they hang out alone together, with some obvious romantic tension. Like where they are super playful and almost kiss, or they are kind of touchy, or something in the realm of that. I think we need a flashback of something that explains Will’s flirty nature at the very end of s3 with Mike, because he doesn't normally act like that. I want noticeable “is something going on with them?” vibes. This could also happen during the thanksgiving/christmas flashbacks.

I hope we get flashbacks of Mike going to the Byers for Thanksgiving, and the Byers coming back to Hawkins for Christmas. Preferably of some Mike and Will moments that hint at Mike’s confusion or how he feels “so alone” without Will, maybe with some “crazy together” references too! I’d also love some tension between the 3 of them, maybe this is when El starts to get suspicious of Mike liking Will.

Hopefully we get some shots of Mike biking past the byers old house and going to look at castle byers and reminiscing.

I’d love to get a flashback of Mike the day the Byers moved away, of him crying or being upset, alone in his room/basement while looking at Will’s drawings or pictures of Will and him together. Mainly to confirm for people that Mike was upset about Will moving, not as much El.

This one does not seem super probable, but it is a very popular theory. Idk if it’s possible because of location logistics, but if they spend enough time together, I’d love for Mike to get to know Robin better, and Will too. Maybe once everyone comes together at the end of the season, she will notice their dynamics and could help guide and inspire them to be themselves. Hey maybe thats for s5 :) But I do think it’s a possibility that Mike may work at the video store with Steve and Robin, and she will pick up on Mike’s behavior and understand, whether she communicates that to him or not.

[heavenbarnes]

when it’s that time of night

Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, fully clothed sex, implied age gap, canon-typical spookiness

Word Count: 3.4k

i finally finished stranger things and i’m just as hot for hawkins chief of police as i was when i started, so here we are x

Gathered around Joyce Byers' kitchen table, your gaze flickered between the comotion unfolding in front of you, and Hopper. Things had undeniably changed since that evening, and those same things had only seemed to get, well, stranger. A silly part of you hoped that if you glared at him hard enough, things would start to become clear.

"I wouldn't normally do this, but you're about one of the only people I can trust."

Jim stood on your doorstep with three of the neighborhood kids, and one young girl you'd not seen before. This was not something you anticipated when you started seeing Hopper, but nevertheless, you stepped aside and let them in.

Maybe that was why he had brought them hear, because it was in your nature to care more about their safety than what made sense. You let the kids have your TV remote and flick through your records, before you turned back to Hopper with a kind of expression that said "you do this with all the girls that let you sleepover?"

And after that, in all hushed tones in your very small kitchen, Jim divulged tales of disappearing children and ones that could move things with their mind.

"I just need you to keep them safe for a few hours, then I'll explain even more."

As much as he did explain, you felt like the more you saw and heard, the less you knew. Listening to these kids, try to tell you that Joyce's son had been kidnapped by the monster from their boardgame? You felt like you needed to lay down a while.

Your skills ranged from serving diner meals on rollerskates, and driving the neighborhood boys crazy in the process. You weren't sure how you'd fear as a monster hunter. Young Jonathan Byers snapped you from your thoughts by throwing a theory out to the group.

"So for us to strike whilst the iron is hottest, we'd just need to know when it will all start happening again?" 

Everyone murmured in agreement but Hopper wasn't having it.

"Ok, so when exactly would that be? Are you going to tell me there is just a time that these things are all going to kick off?"

Your ears pricked up and suddenly your mouth was opening before your brain could catch it.

"Three in the morning." That had everyone's eyes on you.

Not used to hearing you join in on these things, Hopper prompted you to carry on.

You pushed up off the wall you were leaning against and spoke again. "Three in the morning, the witching hour."

"What is the witching hour?" Jonathan pressed you further.

"My Grandmother used to tell me about it, in folklore they say that three in the morning is the witching hour." You stepped further towards the table where they had all congregated.

"It's when the veil between this part of the world," One of your hands lay flat beneath your chin, whilst the other lay palm turned up in line with your belly "And this part of the world,"

"Like Australia?" Dustin questioned, receiving a smack in the arm from Mike.

"No, like the underworld or what you guys call the upside down, it's when the veil between the two is at it's thinnest allowing the unforgiving to travel through."

They all looked from each other and back to you, beginning to fear that you might be onto something.

"Believe me, I work in a 24-hour diner, if things are going to get strange it's going to be at three in the morning."

"What kind of strange?" Joyce spun round at that comment, a sort of pleading in her eyes.

"The lights will pulse, and the machines will start to get these electricity surges, I hate working the nights in there." The look she gave you began to prick the hairs on the back of your neck. "Why are you looking like I've just laid the last piece in your puzzle?"

"Because I think you just have."

Ever since you spoke the witching hour theory into existence, you hadn't been able to get it off your mind. That very next day, your boss called the house and told you that you'd be on the night shift, and Veronica's kid had mono so you'd be doing it alone.

Something told you that you'd made a mistake speaking it outloud, that now this- well whatever this was, but now that it knew you knew it's secrets, it was onto you. However that could've all been crazy, and maybe Hawkins was getting lazy with it's electrical and it just got screwy when they thought everyone was sleeping.

Regardless, it was now 1.41am and there wasn't a customer in sight. It was just you, the empty diner, and the fast approaching witching hour. For the first time in your life, you actually wished one of the town's teenage boys would come in and hound your for a date, just so you had some company.

You resorted to wiping down the counter for about the 30th time that night, a spot of mess at the one of the back booths catching your eye. Leaving the counter, you roller-skated down the back of the store and cleaned up the leftover baskets and napkins. You were bent over the table, flicking the the cloth over the surface when you heard it. The bell on the door.

Your blood rain cold and just about every hair on your body stood on end. An unexplainable feeling drifted over you, that feeling when you know it's all gone wrong, but there just isn't anything you can do about it. That feeling enveloped you and it took over you, you couldn't even bring yourself to turn your head.

Heavy, heavy steps were heading your way and you knew it was do or die. You could try shoot the gap to the backroom, that or beat whatever it was with your bare hands. As it got closer you geared up all your strength and spun around on your skate in an instant.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING-"

"GOD, PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Hopper gripped your wrists and stilled you moments before you lay your fists in his eye sockets. Your breathing slowly came back down to a normal pace, but you could still feel your pulse rattling around in your body. Of course it was just Hopper, of course it wasn't a boardgame monster stopping by for a snack.

"What are you doing here?" You still sounded exasperated as you pulled your arms from his grip and threw yourself into his chest.

He brought both his arms around your shoulders and pulled you further into him, giving you a moment to calm yourself down. "I came in to keep you company, I know you've been a little on edge since you brought up that shit at the Byers' house."

"God, thank you so much, I'm sorry for trying to beat you to death." Voice muffled by his chest, your sentiments were still appreciated.

He brought you back down to the front of the shop and you took one side of the counter each. Fixing him a coffee as a half-hearted apology for the near miss, you slid it across the counter to take place of an olive branch. He accepted with a grin, unable to stay mad at you, even when you're trying to knock his teeth out.

"I am actually so sorry, I really have been on edge, I don't know why." Your head fell into your hands, gently tugging at your own hair.

"Hey, hey come here." He called you around the counter, turning around in his stool as you got closer.

Pulling you between his spread legs, you settled back into his hold, allowing those big hands to rub down the spanse of your back. Even his touch alone could soothe you, even when you were still a little terrified of a time on the clock. His hands moved to your lower back, gently rubbing away all the tensions you'd held inside you for sometime.

There was something about Hopper, from the moment you finally let him drive you home after a shift, giving in to his multitudes of compliments about your roller-skates and your coffee pouring and your little uniform. He was warm and he was kind, he made you laugh and he felt good when he wrapped himself around you. Oh, and it couldn't be forgotten that the Hawkins Chief of Police was unbelievable in the sack.

"You got any customers tonight?" His voice rumbled against your whole body, sounding from deep insdie his chest.

You pushed back from him, letting his hands fall to your waist and your eyes meet, your fingers played with the buttons of his uniform.

"Not since 11.30, and I won't see anymore, I never do." You sighed, tipping your head back with a petty groan. "I still don't know why they have me here so late."

Hopper's hands drifted lower, ever so slightly, until his fingers were toying with the hem of your dress. The gentle touch pricked your skin up, understanding from a touch alone exactly what his intentions were. You kept your gaze fixed on his, a look in your eye that almost seemed to say "go for it."

One of his hands took yours, long fingers slotting between yours as he pulled you out from between his legs. Your roller-skates glided you easily along the linoleum floor, putting you out in front of him.

"Do a twirl for me?" His mouth quirked up into a smirk, making a heat rise up your neck and settle at your cheeks.

You didn't so much agree as he did it for you, lifting your arm and twirling you around on the wheels of your skates. If your dress wasn't so tight, it would've spun around you, but your apron did it for you. An unmissable grin spread across Jim's face, watching your little pose at the end as you both giggled.

"I believe they have you here so late to keep you in this little uniform just a bit longer." His voice was gruff, pulling you towards him again.

"Oh is that what it is?"

"That is what it is," His hands went back to the hem and seemed to sneak under it. "It's to make life harder for me."

"So, this is about you?"

"All about me, it's so I have to sit at home and just think about your pretty ass skating around in this tiny fucking dress, and there isn't anything I can do about it."

It got hotter in the diner, right in that very moment, you could feel it spreading across your body as you lent into him. Your lips ghosted just moments above his, so close he could feel your breath on his skin.

"Well you aren't at home now," You whispered, very nearly placing your lips on his. "What are you 'gonna do about it?"

He didn't have to tell you, it was rather a display to show you what he'd do. His lips came to yours, his signature was a domineering kiss that left you reeling an unable to think of anything else afterwards. His kisses left a hold over you, the way his tongue felt against yours, the way his hands moved against you. This man had you good.

Standing up from the stool, he wrapped one hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him in one swift movement. Your hands went up to his jaw, feeling his coarse beard under your fingers as you pulled his face closer to yours. One of your hands took his hat from the top of his head and hung it off the register beside you.

Hopper kept his hand on your waist, and left the other go beneath your thigh. In one swift motion he lifted you, placing you down on the counter before pushing the skirt of your dress up your legs. With a hand on each knee, he spread them apart and pulled you right to the edge, pushing himself between them to get even closer.

You moaned into his mouth, the feeling of him handling you like his brought a wave over you, making your legs shake around him. One of his hands traveled higher up your thigh, making it's way past the bunched fabric and between your legs. Two fingers pressed firmly against the seat of your underwear and it was made apparent, just how wet he'd gotten you.

"Fuck, little lady you are always so good for me, aren't you?" His voice was nearly a bark, lips moving down your jaw and to your throat.

"I try my best, chief."

His motions stopped at the sound of that name, and within in instant he was pulling your underwear down your legs. It hung around one of your roller-skates as he pushed both your legs over his broad shoulders, leaning you back till you were perched up on your elbows.

Hopper's mouth found the meeting of your thighs, his tongue coming out to lick a fine stripe along your heat. Your mouth fell open and your hands flew to his head, fingers threading into his hair as he began to move his tongue against you.

Gasps and nearly pathetic whimpers fell from your lips as he worked against your clit, rolling it against his tongue with unreal precision. The only word leaving your lips was his title, the sound of chief filled the diner and bounced off the windows.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart as your body willed you to clamp them around his head. Your hips rolled forward, pressing you further into his mouth as his tongue moved down further before coming back up to that one spot.

So quickly, you could already feel that tension building inside you, a fine line of pleasure that was ready to snap. His eyes rose up to you, locking with you and making about every muscle inside you tighten. That look in his eye, it could've killed you the way you knew exactly what it meant.

He had a sweet tooth only you were pretty enough to sate.

One of his hands left your thigh and moved below the counter, you listened to the sound of his belt buckle as he haphazardly undid it one-handed. You heard his fly next and it was incredibly apparent that he was palming himself as his tongue still moved against you.

The thought, the image in your mind, the sounds he made as he moaned against your wetness it was all too much. Your head tipped back, fingers tightened in his hair as you cried out for him. You felt that line snap as your release washed over you.

Hopper never let up, lips still pursed around your clit as you rode out your high, nearly overtaking you. He never went to far, always new the line and he pulled back as he stood to full height. Your legs fell to his sides and you looked up to see him grasping himself in his hand.

His other hand trailed against your sensitive heat, two fingers dragging through the wetness that remained there.

"You have the sweetest fucking pussy I've ever got my hands on." He growled as he dove in for a kiss, the taste of you ever present on his lips.

He took that hand from between your legs and used it to slick up his cock, twisting your wetness around himself as he lay his head at your entrance. He dragged it along your sensitive cunt, before slowly pushing his way in.

The gasp that fell from you was iminent, Jim had a stretch like nothing else. Your body relaxed into this kiss and into him until he was hip-deep within you.

"And your pussy is so fucking tight, I can't believe how lucky I got." 

"It's all for you, chief, fuck me like you mean it."

So he did, his hands slid to the other side of the counter and gripped the edge before he delivered the first incredible blow. Your back arched up and a cry was ripped from within you as he pumped his hips quickly against your own.

Your hands shot up to grip his arms, feeling the muscles tensing beneath the cotton of his work shirt. Legs tensing up around his hips, moans and whimpers still steadily coming from you, it only seemed to spur him on like he was listening for the way you fell apart for him.

"You look so good taking my cock, pretty girl." He huffed, one hand leaving the counter to come and grip your hip.

He pulled you back against him with every thrust, striking deep inside you and rolling your eyes back in your head. Still on edge from the flood of pleasure he had just dipped you in, you felt like you were right there, teetering on the edge and waiting to be pushed over.

Always knowing exactly what he was doing, exactly what would drive you crazy and have you falling apart around him. Maybe this is what it had all been about, that talk about being with an older man, you'd heard the stories and he'd proven them all right.

From the moment you'd started sleeping over with each other, Hopper had changed your life. You didn't know if you could go back to nights without getting your back blown out by Jim Hopper. He would always talk about how he couldn't believe he got a pretty young thing like yourself, but you didn't know how you'd lucked out on someone that made you feel the way he did.

Gripping onto his uniform and crying out for him, you felt that hand on your hip slip down to your clit, rubbing furious circles against it. Another moan of that name, that title that until you had said it, was nothing more than a work give name. Now, the way that you said it gave it a whole new meaning.

It had gotten so bad that he had to stop asking you to call him that in front of people, after he'd pitched a tent the day you visited him at the station. Now that was reserved for teasing.

The way he touched you, how he knew your body, it had you dangerously close to coming undone for him once again that evening. Your heat clenched around him, dragging him in with a raw cry ripping out of your throat and rising above the both of you.

That line snapped once more and you couldn't help the way your hips rose from the counter and your body twitched under the mountain of pleasure. Over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, you could hear the words of encouragement coming from Hopper.

He rode out your high with you again, pulling you back against him and refusing to let up as you felt him faltering slightly. "That's my good girl, 'gonna make me come."

You reached your hands up his chest, pulling against his shirt as you arched your back for him again. Your lips pursed as you mustered the strength to call out to him.

"Come for me, chief."

And that was enough to do it for him, his hips stilling tight against you as he came deep in you. Grunts and chopped cries of your name could be heard as he pulled you flush towards his chest, arms wrapped under your back as his heart hammered against both of your chests.

He let you back down from the counter, fixing himself as you pulled up your underwear and smoothed out your uniform. You placed his hat back on his head as he sat back on the stool, before you slotted back between his thighs.

As he wrapped his arms back around you, you heard, and then you saw it. That electrical pulsing, that buzzing that seemed to come from the lightbulbs. Right as your heart-rates had just come back as they should, you physically felt yours pick up again.

"Baby, what'd you call that damn time again?"

Your eyes moved from the flickering lights to the big clock on the wall, the one you usually focused on for your breaks. The hands were pointing clear as day, three in the morning.

"The witching hour."

[plaidbooks]

The R Drug part 2

A/N: I promise I still have summer bingo fics ready to go, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. This is a part 2 to The R Drug, and is a lot of talking and exposition, and a lot of Sonny hating himself. This will most likely get a part 3. No chapter will ever be darkfic or as dark as the first one was. It’s only up from here.

Tags: self-loathing, mentions of rape (like, one line--references first fic heavily) and therapy, otherwise none, just a lot of angst with a maybe happy ending?

Words: 4657

Taglist:  @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy  @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867  @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

For the first few days, you sat on the couch in pain and exhaustion, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. The doctor said that you were severely dehydrated and had kept both you and Sonny overnight after the club, though separated. Olivia and Amanda interviewed you, while Fin interviewed Sonny. You were both then sent on leave until you could come back to work…if you could come back at all.

Thankfully, you weren’t pregnant. But you were sore, every movement causing aches and pains as you shuffled around your apartment. Obviously, you weren’t pressing charges, and neither was Sonny; what happened was a freak accident, something you never wanted to think about again, but knew you’d have to in order to move past it.

When you could finally walk normally again, you went to a therapist. It took a while to find a groove; therapists specializing in rape victims had trouble dealing with the fact that while yes, you were a victim, you were also a perpetrator. The other strange thing was that you weren’t angry with Sonny; you were angry with yourself. You assaulted him, just as he assaulted you. And that was the part that was eating you up inside.

It took months of therapy, going every day and working through your confused and frustrated emotions before you finally came to terms with what had happened. You were ready to put your badge and gun back on, ready to move on with your life. You missed your job, your squad. But most of all, you missed Sonny. He was your best friend before all of this happened, and you hadn’t seen nor talked to him since the club. You missed his boyish charm, his bright smile and his loud laugh. You missed the little inside jokes you had together, and the late nights spent curled on the couch, watching reality TV and sports. You missed your Sonny.

**********************

On Monday morning, four months after the club incident, you made your way into the familiar precinct. You were heading for Olivia’s office when you stopped short. Both Amanda and Fin were at their desks like normal. Even your desk was how you left it; a few photos, baskets to hold paperwork, little knick-knacks that made it yours. But Sonny’s desk, the one next to yours, was completely different. There wasn’t a single photo of any Carisi, no Mets or Islanders memorabilia, no nothing that made it his. Instead, there was a picture of two men, one you didn’t recognize posing with…Deputy Chief Dodds?

Before you could ask questions, Amanda said, “that’s Mike Dodds’s desk. He’s the new Sergeant.”

“Where’s Carisi’s desk,” you asked, turning to look at her.

But it was Fin who answered. “He doesn’t have one.” You swore you got whiplash turning to look at Fin so quickly. “He turned in his badge and gun months ago…just after the club fiasco.”

“What?” you almost yelled. You were loud enough that Olivia heard you, and she and the new guy—Mike?—came out of her office. She beckoned you to her office, and you passed by Mike, who tried to give you a smile that you did not return.

“Welcome back—” Olivia started before you cut her off.

“Carisi’s gone?!”

She closed the door behind you before taking a seat at her desk. She motioned for you to sit, and you all but collapsed into the chair. “I tried to keep him, to talk him out of quitting. But he refused, saying he needed to work through things. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.”

You stared in disbelief at the top of her desk. Sonny was gone. You had to talk to him, had to see him. You said as much to Liv.

“If you think you can get through to him, then by all means. Because it’s been hard around here not having two of my best detectives,” she replied. “Dodds has been a godsend, but he doesn’t replace either of you, and especially not both of you.”

You nodded. “I’ll talk to him, try and bring him back.”

“I wish you luck. I think he’ll listen to you; you were close before…all this.”

 **********************

After leaving the precinct, you tried texting and calling Sonny, but to no avail. In fact, it was going straight to voicemail, as if his phone were dead or off. So, you swung by his apartment. You buzzed his place, but a deep, gruff man answered.

“I just moved in a few months ago; the previous owner seemed to be in a hurry to move out,” he said. Clinging to the hope that this was still Sonny just trying to put on a fake accent, you buzzed a neighbor. But they confirmed that Sonny had moved out a couple months ago, and that a new tenant moved in.

Out of desperation, you tracked down a phone book, and looked up his parent’s place. Then you took the drive out to Staten Island. You shifted nervously on the porch, waiting for an answer after knocking.

A woman in her 60s, who could only be Mrs. Carisi, answered. Her eyes darted to your waistband, the badge there, then back to yours. You watched them slowly fill with tears.

“Please, don’t tell me yet,” she muttered, and you furrowed your brow. “Don’t tell me my Bambino is…is…” she hiccupped, and you understood; she thought you were here to deliver the news that Sonny was dead.

“No, no! I’m actually…I’m Carisi’s partner…or I was. I’m just…having a hell of a time tracking him down,” you quickly explained.

She sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Well, I hope you do find him.”

“You mean…you don’t know where he is?” you asked, heart sinking.

She shook her head. “He told us he needed some time, and that he’d be in touch. That was the last we saw or heard from him, and that was back in March.” It was June now, and you were realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

You nodded, muttering out an apology for bothering her as you turned away, but she grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Please, if you find Sonny, tell him we love him. And that we want him to come home.”

“Of course,” you replied before leaving, holding back tears until you were back in your car.

 ****************

Your first real clue as to where Sonny went came through looking at his bank statements. There, you found a one-way trip to Genoa, Italy. Without too much thought behind it, you booked a flight, texted Olivia your intentions, then headed to the airport. In your hurry, you didn’t pack, didn’t even book a place to stay. You only had one thing on your mind, and it was to find Sonny Carisi.

With the clothes on your back, your phone, passport, and wallet full of bills that you converted to euros, you got on the one-way trip to Genoa.

 ***************

You barely slept on the plane, landing early in the morning. The sun was just peaking over the beautiful Italian landscape. Even in your exhaustion and worry, you had to stop and appreciate the architecture of a different country. Genoa was beautiful, and you’d be enjoying yourself if the drive to find your missing partner wasn’t so high. You had a picture of him on your phone, and you went around, asking everyone you passed by if they had seen him. At first, you were asking in English—you didn’t know Italian. But eventually, you learned the phrases you needed.

“L'hai visto?” you asked desperately.

You understood “no,” and saw the look of sadness on their faces.

“Grazie,” you replied, moving on.

You must’ve asked hundreds of people. The sun was high in the sky, and you felt a hopelessness in your fruitless search. Why did you ever think you’d find him? There was a good chance he wasn’t even in Genoa anymore; he could’ve landed and moved somewhere more isolated. You had nothing to go on, and your voice and face took on a pleading, desperate tone. You must’ve looked like an unhinged person, asking the same question over and over again while pointing frantically to your phone screen.

Another thought came to you in the form of a growling stomach. You hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had so much as a sip of water since you got off the plane. Which then led you to think about what you were going to do once the sun went down. You didn’t have a whole lot of money on you, and you didn’t know how much anything cost.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you muttered to yourself in frustrated hopelessness. You sat down hard on a bench, cursing yourself for not thinking this through better.

A woman came over to you; she looked somewhat familiar. You must’ve talked to her before. But she started speaking rapid Italian to you. You gave her a puzzled look, brow furrowed. You tried to express that you didn’t speak Italian, and she stopped, her face contorted as she thought.

“Man,” she said in slow, pronounced English. She pointed to her left. “Man...you want?”

You followed her finger and froze when you saw the tall, lanky frame of Sonny through a shop window. You jumped to your feet, shouting a “thank you!” to her as you ran on tired legs to the shop. Sonny was just paying for groceries, and was heading out of the shop when you reached him.

His eyes widened as he saw you, guilt flooding his eyes. “...[y/n]?” he asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” you replied, grinning. “I thought I’d never find you.”

He gave you a hard look. “I wish you didn’t,” he muttered before turning to leave.

You stared in disbelief as he walked down the street, bag in his arms. Snapping yourself out of it, you hurried after him. “Carisi, what are you doing here in Italy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, not breaking in his stride. You struggled to keep up with his long legs, your body and mind exhausted. “I’m trying to start over, away from my past.”

You pushed yourself to get in front of him, cutting him off. “You can’t just—just run away.... Don’t I...don’t we mean anything to you? The squad, your family—”

“Of course you do,” he replied, eyes softening for a moment. “That’s why I left.”

You looked at him, eyes pleading. “Look, Dom, I know what happened was...traumatic. But—”

“I’m not talking about that. Not now, not ever.” And then he was walking again, easily stepping around you. “Please, just go home,” he called over his shoulder to you.

You watched him retreat for a moment before heading after him again. “Dominick, you need to talk about it, if not to me, than to someone else. But you can’t bury it down, move on like nothing ever happened.”

Sonny whipped around to glare at you, face hard. “Like nothing ever happened? You think that’s what I’m doing?” He shook his head, huffing. “I’ll never stop thinking about it! This will haunt me to my grave! And when I’m burning in Hell, I’ll know why.”

It broke your heart to see him like this. “Please, listen to me. You need to work through this. It took me months to come to terms with my actions, and I know you can do it, too.”

“I’m too disgusted with myself,” he replied, shaking his head. “I hate myself too much for what I did to you.”

He tried to turn away again, but you grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. He flinched at the contact, pulling away from your touch, and you let your hand fall. “I hated me, too. Still do sometimes. But it wasn’t our fault; we were drugged. There was nothing we could do—”

“I could’ve fought it. I could’ve controlled myself.”

“And what, I couldn’t?” you shot back. Sonny’s eyes widened at your outburst. “If you hate yourself so much, then you must hate me, too. I did the same thing you did.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning yours. “I could never hate you.”

“Then why are you so hellbent on hating yourself, but not me?”

“Because I...” he trailed off, thinking through his words. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but instead he whispered, “I don’t know.”

You moved closer to him. “Then please, let me help you.” You didn’t make the mistake of touching him again, instead just gazing deeply into his eyes.

Sonny sighed heavily, regripping the bag in his arms. “Yeah, okay. But...let me sleep on it, first?” He saw the skeptical look you gave him, and he quickly added, “I promise I won’t run away again. I just...I need time to process things. Where are you staying? I can swing by in the morning.”

“Uhh...” you said, looking at the ground.

“...please tell me you have a place to stay.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to try and find a place, soon?” you tried.

You could see the inner struggle he had as he fought himself. “I could...you could stay with me, if you want.... That is, if you feel safe with me...if you can trust me.”

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” you said softly.

His eyes widened for a moment. “Yeah...okay. Follow me.”

 ****************

Sonny lived in a small apartment. Though it was a little smaller than his place in Manhattan, it was absolutely stunning, the view from his window gorgeous. It was simply furnished, yet it still somehow felt like...Sonny. He put his grocery bag down on the little counter that acted like an island in a kitchen. In reality, it was just a piece that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he put his things away.

You stomach grumbled loudly in response. “Uh, no,” you muttered, embarrassed.

Sonny gave you a look. “So, let me get this straight. I can tell by your no luggage or place to stay that you just flew to Genoa with absolutely no backup plan? What if you didn’t find me? What if I went to Vernazza or something?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t in the best state of mind, okay? I was worried about you; no one had heard from you, not even your parents. And your phone just went to voicemail.”

He sighed. “I left my phone in New York; I didn’t want it. Maybe I also wasn’t in the best state of mind when I left.”

You dug your phone out of your pocket; you only had 10% left on it. You unlocked it, then shoved it towards him. “You need to call your parents. Your mom is heartbroken, and asked me to tell you that she loves you. But I think it would be better coming from her directly to you.”

Tears filled his eyes as he took your phone from you. “If I do, then it’ll kill your phone battery. There’s no way the call would be less than five hours long.”

“Call them,” you urged. You could buy a phone charger in the morning. Sonny sighed, dialing the number. “I’ll give you some privacy,” you whispered, heading outside. You heard a soft, “hey ma; it’s me,” before you closed the front door behind you.

You were so relieved to have found Sonny. Sure, he was still broken and hurt, but you knew you could help him find himself, pull himself back from the darkness in his mind. You just didn’t know how long it would take, how long you’d be in Italy for. You didn’t want to rush him, couldn’t rush him if you tried. And you knew a lot of this would be an internal battle, something you knew intimately well based on your own experience. In the end, he’d have to find the strength to forgive himself on his own before he could move on. You sighed, looking up into the dark clouds above you, the muggy heat making your skin sticky.

 *********************

Sonny came and got you about an hour later. His eyes were rimmed red, but it seemed as though a weight had lifted off him as he handed back your now dead phone.

“Sorry; I can buy you a charger in the morning,” he muttered, leading you back inside.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

You both ate dinner in silence; Sonny was pensive, thinking, while you were starving and shoveling the delicious food into your mouth. Once you finished—your huge bites compared to his little nibbles had you finishing in record time—you took your dishes to the kitchen and started cleaning them.

“I can do that—” Sonny started before you cut him off.

“It’s fine; you cook, I clean.” It was your rule back in Manhattan, and Sonny smiled softly at the memories of you both in his kitchen.

“Look, Sonny, I know you said you don’t want to talk—and that’s fine! But, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here, willing to listen,” you said. You scrubbed at your plate with the sponge, forcing yourself to not turn and look at him.

He sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. You resolutely stayed facing the sink, washing a now clean dish, waiting for a response that may not come.

“I...I know it was R. I know it was. But I just...I can’t stop the self-loathing I feel,” he said so quietly, you barely heard him over the water in the sink.

Slowly, you turned the water off, then turned to face him. “I know. It took me months to not hate myself. To not blame myself.”

Sonny took a deep breath, then rubbed his eyes. “I never asked; how are you?”

You knew he didn’t mean in general. “I was very sore and exhausted the first week. I was stuck in a downward spiral. But the thing about hitting rock bottom is that you can only go up.” You sighed. “I’m doing better. I doubt I’ll ever be 100% me again. But I’m working every day to get closer.”

He nodded, thinking. “See, I feel like I hit rock bottom, then grabbed a shovel. I’m still fighting to get back to rock bottom.”

“Well, just know that I do not blame you in any way. All the anger and hatred I felt was directed at myself,” you huffed out an emotionless chuckle. “In fact, you hardly came up in my therapy sessions at all. Just that I hated myself for doing that to you.”

Sonny stood then, bringing his own dishes into the kitchen. “I never blamed you, either; still don’t. I—I guess because I’m bigger and because I was...on top, I blame myself instead. I didn’t even consider the fact that you got drugged, too....”

“That’s the thing; I know you. And I know myself. Neither of us...that wouldn’t have happened without outside forces making us do it. Like I said, I trust you with my life, Sonny. And while I understand why you turned your badge in, I really would like my partner back one day,” you said, hope tinging your voice.

He reached past you to put his plate in the sink, and you gazed up at him. This was the closest you’ve been since that night in the club, his face inches from yours, bright blue eyes boring into your own. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened. You could pretend that you were in Sonny’s Manhattan apartment, having just finished dinner he made, Love Island playing on his TV. But then reality set in, and Sonny backed away from you, a look of guilt in his eyes.

“M—maybe one day. But I’m not sure I want to go back to that line of work yet,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

You nodded. “I understand—” you were cut off by a loud clap of thunder, sounding directly above you. You dropped the plate you were rinsing off into the sink, the clatter loud in the shocked silence.

Sonny looked from the ceiling to you, saw your petrified look. He knew you hated storms, would often get a call at 1am from you, asking to come over when a thunderstorm rolled in. When he saw you on the streets of Genoa, he didn’t connect that Italy had some of the most intense thunderstorms in the world.

“Hey, it’s okay; I’m here,” he murmured out of instinct; the words he would say back home to you.

You were trembling, tears in your eyes. “S-Sonny, I—”

Another loud rumbling resounded through the apartment, and he saw you shrink in on yourself, slowly dropping to the floor, curling around your legs. You tucked your face against your knees, shaking with quiet sobs. He came over to you, kneeling in front of you. Normally, he’d wrap you tightly in his arms, whispering to you that you were safe. But now, he was afraid to touch you.

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” he remembered you saying, with no hesitation. Swallowing the thoughts propelled by self-loathing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t assault you, wouldn’t do anything without your consent, so why the hell was he hesitating when you needed him?

“Come on; let’s get you into bed, okay?” Sonny whispered to you. You nodded without looking up. Gently, he unfolded your limbs, helping you to your feet. He had been planning to sleep on the couch, give you his bed. Now, though, he was leading you to his bedroom quickly, trying to make it before more thunder sounded.

He got you into his bed just as another clap of thunder shook the walls. You pulled the covers over your head, tucking down as hard as possible into the bed. Sonny climbed into bed next to you, laying on top of the covers. Gently, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back against him. He could feel you trembling, the whole bed shaking. What else could he do besides what he normally did?

“It’s okay; you’re safe. I got you,” he whispered, rubbing your arm over the blanket. You rolled over until you were facing him, and curled in against his chest. Sonny stiffened for only a moment before relaxing in the familiar position.

“I hate storms,” you choked out, tucking your face into his shirt.

He rubbed your back in comfort. “I know you do. It’ll be gone soon enough.”

But unlike Manhattan, where that may be true, thunderstorms in Genoa lasted hours. Simply because you didn’t sleep the night before, you were able to drift off in Sonny’s embrace. You’d jerk awake every time a clap of thunder was heard, though, shaking and sobbing softly as he murmured sweet words to you before succumbing to sleep again.

Sonny, however, didn’t sleep a wink. He was too lost in thought, holding you to him. You trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed, his arms around you, even after everything that happened. You didn’t blame him, felt no hatred towards him. And while most of his problem stemmed from his own self-hatred, he was always afraid that you felt the same way about him. And he couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t stand it. Not when he—

He almost said it out on the street earlier, when you asked him if he hated you. He almost told you that he loved you, had come so close. In fact, he was planning on asking you out after work that day. The day that changed his life forever, and not in the way he had been hoping. If only Liv hadn’t called you both into her office that day, then maybe there would still be a chance....

But he could never tell you, not now. How would you even begin a relationship after this? He was too afraid to even touch you, for Christ’s sake. Though, that was before the thunderstorm started. Now, you were curled against his chest, your trembling stopped for the moment, breathing deep as you slept. His arms were around you, and god he loved it, loved the feeling of you sleeping in his arms, whether from a storm or not. This wasn’t the first time he held you throughout the night, and he loved it every time, regardless of circumstances. But how could anything evolve from this? How could he kiss you? How could you be...intimate together without the memory of the club popping up in either of your minds?

A small part of him whispered that if he could get over his fear of touching you—evident by the cuddling—then he could overcome his other fears, too. But would you want that? Did he?.... Yes, yes he wanted that very much. He wanted to be able to love you without fear and/or guilt in his heart. Before the club, he had thought that his biggest obstacle would be 1PP. Oh how ignorant he had been.

He resolved that he wouldn’t tell you, not now, maybe not ever. He couldn’t, not when this darkness was still inside his head, not when his hatred for himself was so high—

Thunder rolled out, and you jumped, instantly waking. The trembling started again, and you grabbed Sonny’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.

“I got you. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered to you.

But for the first time ever, you responded. “You make me feel safe, Dom,” you muttered back.

At first, he was filled with such a profound warmth and happiness, feeling protective and strong. But then a flash of your face, beet red, your body moving erratically underneath his while loud club music played, and he sunk in on himself. He felt like such an asshole, such a coward, holding you like this. He should’ve left you on the streets in Genoa, closed himself off. Or at least offer to put you up in a hotel or a hostile, not fucking take you home with him. He hated that side of him that couldn’t let you go, almost as much as the hatred of that night in the club.

“What’s wrong?” you asked suddenly. You were still shaking in his grasp, but you noticed he was deep in thought. He had stopped talking, and was humming slightly. Sonny only hummed when he was thinking hard. He didn’t respond right away, unsure of what he’d even say. So, you pressed on, “need me to comfort you?”

Sonny’s expression softened. Here you were, scared out of your mind, but still offering him help. This is one of the main reasons he loved you. “No, I’m fine. Just sleep, okay?” he murmured.

Without thinking about it, he brushed his lips against your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss. You smiled at the gesture, tucking your head against his chest again, quickly finding sleep once more.

But Sonny was silently cursing himself. Why the hell did you kiss her?! he thought in anguish. In truth, he didn’t think, just reacted. He often kissed your forehead in comfort, trying to coax you to sleep. It seemed as if when he turned his brain off, he could rely on instinct, doing things he normally did. But that nagging side of his brain never left him alone for long. Things he used to do that brought him joy, like holding you or kissing your soft skin, now filled him with regret. How was he supposed to move on and leave you behind in New York when he did shit like this?

He sighed, glancing at his clock and seeing that it was only a little past 1am. This was going to be a long night. And he still wasn’t sure what to say to you in the morning.

[hournites]

Take it slow, but it’s not typical

Hournite fluff 

@barrysollie

~.~ 

Beth’s heart was still hammering when she stepped off the stage with cameras flashing in her face. The heavy weight of the gold medal around her neck felt good. Really good. Beth always knew her mind worked differently than other people. Ideas came faster, her thoughts crowded in and then sometimes didn’t even filter fast enough for them to come coherently out of her mouth. But since middle school, Beth has learned to manage, refine, and store information in so many hundreds of thousand mental boxes. It’s natural, an automatic mechanism she uses just to cope with her thinking. It’s crazy that it’s what contributes to scholastic awards. She has a collection of plaques and trophies, and other ribbons of accomplishments for her school competitions in her room from school. But this is the first one she’s tried at the college level, registered as the youngest qualifier for Nebraska State. And she won. 

The girls ambushed her once she weaved her way through the auditorium, stopped five hundred times by professors and faculty for praise and greetings. It was a lot, it was so much, and so novel. At Blue Valley High School, nobody cared about these competitions. The audience was near-empty, only parents and occasional siblings spread throughout the seats with the mandatory judges. But here, Beth was a superstar. She was the centre of attention. It was crazy and awesome, overwhelming and validating all rolled together in an incredible ball of emotion. Courtney threw her arms around her, bouncing on the balls of her feet with an excited squeal before Beth’s own mom could get a word out of congratulations. Beth laughed and nearly dropped her bursary prize, the envelope pressed between them. 

She lets go for Yolanda’s turn, who’s hug is not quite as intense but just as meaningful. “We are so proud of you! That was amazing!” 

“Thanks for studying with me,” Beth said back. 

Yolanda smiled and let Beth step away to hug her dad and mom. They freed her of her certificate, bursary and ribbon so she could have her hands to herself again before mingling with the rest of the crowd. 

They made it out to the lobby and Beth spun around in her blue checkered professional jumpsuit. She tried to level her voice as she looked around. “Where’s Rick?” 

Courtney looped Beth’s arm on one, and Yolanda’s with the other, walking them to a coffee cart. “He stepped out.”

“Oh?” Beth didn’t want to sound disappointed. She had spotted him in the audience between turns, sitting with her back straight on a hard metal chair under the stage lights. “He wasn’t bored, was he?” Beth didn’t think so. 

“No!” Courtney nearly shouted. Yolanda glared at her and reached out to order them all chocolate bars instead of coffees from the cart. “He saw you win! He’s super stoked, he just had to check on his parking spot or something, he’ll be back!” 

Beth didn’t need Chuck to know Courtney was lying, but the high of the event and Yolanda’s nod of reassurance when she glanced at her was enough for Beth to tuck that weirdness away to think about later. She took the chocolate from Yolanda appreciatively and tore into the wrapper. She covered her mouth with her hand when more people stopped to remark on her quick-thinking and bright future, waving at them instead of saying thank you with her mouth full. 

“Where’s your mom?” Yolanda asks. Pat was with Barbara and Mike, talking to some random lady that they ran into who Barbara used to go to school with. Beth shrugged, not really sure, but she had a good hint. “Probably bragging about me somewhere…” 

Courtney laughed and poked at her side. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” 

Beth’s mouth twitched up at the sides, conceding that Courtney was right. There were far worse things to be embarrassed about your parents. 

Twenty minutes full of bathroom mirror selfies later, they pushed through the wooden academic arched-top doors. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder. Beth turned around in her mini heels and smiled at the familiar face. 

“Rick!” She smiled breathlessly. “Hi!”

His eyes softened in front of her, then flickered down at the medal hanging around her neck. “Hi,” he said back. “Sorry, I had to go...do something. You were great. You’re amazing, Beth.”  

“Thank you,” she replied. She clasped her hands together behind her back, swallowing down the bundle of nerves that suddenly graced her stomach again. Which was really weird. That butterfly feeling always melted away by the time she got in front of a mic. And the competition was over. So why were they making a comeback? 

Rick shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair, still sporting that soft-eyed grin.. “Hey, do you want to walk with me to my car? I forgot something.” 

Beth turned to confirm with Yolanda and Courtney in case her parents wondered where she went off to, but both were already promising of that before Beth could get the sentence out, nodding their heads eagerly at her. Courtney actually gave her a shove into Rick.

 “...Okay.” Beth got the hint. She should go with Rick. Okay, that was fine with her anyway. 

They walked in silence, which was a bit unusual, but silence isn't awkward between them. Beth fiddles with her medal as they walk off campus. Rick’s yellow Mustang is very easy to locate even a block and a half away from where it sits by a parking meter. At his car, Rick opened the door and pulled something out from his backseat in a plastic bag. 

“Turn around,” he said. 

Beth tried to peer over his shoulder. “What? Why? I don’t care about your car mess.” 

Rick rolled his eyes and gently swivelled her around to face the line of student housing. “It’s just for a second.” 

Beth crossed her arms. “Okay.” 

There was rustling, and then his car closed and a full bouquet of yellow lilies and red roses came in front of her. Rick used his free arm to wrap around for a behind-half hug. The stems were still wet, cut fresh from the flower-shop, according to the sticker against tissue paper and plastic wrap.  His neck right by her ear. “For you.” She could hear the grin in his voice when she gasped. Their fingers brushed when she took the flowers. 

“What!” She spun around to face him and beamed. “Rick!” 

“You like them?” 

He seemed flustered, but that was okay, Beth could hardly contain her awe. 

“These are so pretty!” Beth brought them to her nose to smell. Nobody has bought her flowers before. Not anyone other than her family. Yellow was their favourite colour...And she knew what red roses meant. She blinked back very sudden grateful tears. “I love them very much.” She wrapped her arm around him again. Rick bent down so she could reach for his neck. “Thank you. This was where you ran off to?” 

“Uh.” Rick messed with his hair again. “Yeah. Sorry for making it look like I ditched, I saw the flower shop downtown on the way over and I made a call during the intermission to pick them up.”

“Intermission?” She frowned at him, a little confused. “That’s before I won.” 

“Does it matter? I was going to give them to you anyway.”  

Beth’s heart did a little nerdy summersault in her chest. “Oh,” she said delicately, a bit at a loss for what else to say. This time a tear really did fall down her face. Rick really owned a whole piece of her heart. She huffed out an embarrassed laugh and quickly wiped it away. With a shaky exhale, she reached into her pocket for her phone. 

“C’mere,” she said, beckoning Rick forward for a selfie with her bouquet. Rick leaned into the frame, smiling with Beth at her front-facing camera. Two seconds before her thumb pressed on the shutter, she sucked in a breath of courage and pressed a fast kiss to his face. 

“There!” Beth sent the photo to the JSA group chat, then put her phone away. “Let’s head back, I think my dad said Ms. Woods organized a group dinner to celebrate.” 

Rick’s cheeks were still as rosy as her perfect red flowers. He ducked his head, still smiling as Beth tugged him along back up the street.  “Okay.”

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 2

Here we gooooo :) Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey, @remedialpotions, @not-steve42, @jamezbot, @gryffindorhealer, and the majority of the HG server for their help <3

If you’ve just arriving, here is Chapter 1. :)

_____________________

D A Y  +  T W O 

He’s driving her mad. Absolutely fucking mad.

Ginny grips the hose in an attempt to water the rose bush outside their window, but her eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

This entire thing was such a terrible idea.

She should’ve insisted on another Auror as backup on her first solo mission. Someone less attractive. Someone she hadn’t shagged up one side of the Burrow and down the next.

But the request was difficult to grant in the first place. It took Ginny a full year of documentation to prove this was a necessary use of resources. Attica (and Unspeakables in general) don’t tend to be well-liked by the older Aurors, which made Harry the best fit. The only fit. Everyone— from Kingsley to Attica to even Hermione— agreed. And even aside from the sheer convenience of it all, Ginny’s years of experience with the Thought Chamber and Harry’s ability to sniff out trouble like a niffler after gold made them a brilliant combination to tackle… this.

It’s just a pity, then, that she still finds him so bloody attractive. Even though he’s become a bit of a brooding, sarcastic mess.

Ginny blinks down at the bright pink petals, their leathery flesh beaded with water droplets. Maybe the problem’s that she hasn’t spent much time around him since then. He still comes around for Sunday roast, of course, when his work schedule permits. In spite of what Mum went through, she’d never allow Harry to feel unwelcome. It’s his house as much as theirs— and yes, Ginny still lives at home. It’s the least she can do to maintain a degree of normalcy, even though everything irrevocably changed when It happened.

Ginny’s hands begin to shake around the hose; her brain starts to spiral. The Burrow is less welcoming now. Their hugs are more forced. Their family more distant. And although everyone functions on a basic human level, Ginny knows in her gut that the remaining Weasley siblings — Harry most certainly included — are still going through the motions to cope.

And maybe it’s because she really hadn’t had a libido in nearly five years, but fuck, it hasn’t taken much to come rushing back. Her thighs press together as her head fills with another series of intrusive thoughts instead. But she can’t suppress the memory of Harry emerging from the shower this morning, his top-half dripping, his bottom-half toweled. Not that it matters much, not when she knows every fucking inch of—

“I think that bush is good now!”

Ginny jumps, a string of swears springing to her lips. “I— fuck.” She turns to the unexpected voice. “Sorry! Let me—”

But Oliver from last night merely leans over to turn off the hose. “You’ll quickly learn that sort of language isn’t great for Arcadia, Jen,” he intones, finger wagging.

Years of training allow Ginny to blush in chagrin. To shove aside the telling-off she’d have provided a long, long time ago. “Sorry.” She winces. “It’s just a habit, leftover from—”

“—London, right,” he finishes, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anyway. Listen. Sharon and I would be honored if you joined us for dinner tonight.”

“Did I hear something about dinner?” Harry strolls out of the house, the door shutting behind him with a satisfying thump. “Goodie! As my wife knows, dinner is my favorite word.” He rests his chin on her head, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. Ginny’s heart clenches in familiarity even as her face remains placid. They agreed to all of these terms beforehand… to feign public affection. To seem utterly smitten. It’s just funny how they’ve both relied on old habits.

Ginny reckons that makes sense, though. After all, it worked for them once.

She turns towards Harry with a pout. “But Pookie Pie, I thought your favorite word was snuggles! We certainly did enough of that last night.”

Harry’s chuckle rings out with false bravado as he tucks her hair behind her ears. “We did something, all right. Not sure if snuggling is the right word for it. What do you think, Oliver?” Harry whips around to face him. “What’s your favorite word for… marital relations?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively above his glasses; Ginny stomps on his foot to keep herself from laughing.

Oliver, however, does not find them delightful. “I think this is for you. From Mike.” He points to a box that he apparently rested on the ground while Ginny was drowning the roses.

Harry bends over to pick it up. This does nothing to distract her.

“Couldn’t Mike erm…” Ginny shakes her head to clear it. “Sorry. Couldn’t he bring it over himself? He lives just—”

“Out of town on business, I’m afraid.” Oliver’s voice turns cold as he peers at Ginny again. “He won’t be back for weeks. Months, maybe.”

Ginny makes a noise of concern and rests a fist on her hip. “Huh! That’s funny. What out-of-town business could a primary school teacher possibly have?”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, but his grin remains. “Teacher business, I guess.”

“When can we speak to someone about the trampoline?” Harry blurts, slicing the tension. “I’m missing my exercise, Ollie. It’s how I stay fit. You won’t like me when I’m not exercising!”

With that, Oliver’s grin finally fades. “Well, you can ask Mr. Gogolak, but I don’t think anything will come of it. He’s available tonight from 5 o’clock to 6:13, on the dot. He lives just up there, on the corner. Anyway, I’ll be off.” He gives a parting wave and turns to walk up the drive, but Harry isn’t done.

“Not sure how we’ll manage to make that and dinner, though,” he calls. “Don’t we have to be indoors by six?”

But it seems Oliver is absolutely intent on being elsewhere, because he opts to walk backwards and yell from the street. “Of course not!” he shouts. “Six is only the move-in deadline.” Then he barks out a cruel laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Any idiot knows that dinner starts at 7!” With that, he sends them a final glare before lumbering away, his brown loafers crunching on the pavement.

Harry and Ginny snort in unison; if Oliver hears them, he doesn’t engage.

“See you later!” Ginny confirms, ensuring it’s loud enough for him to hear. Then she drops her voice to a stage-whisper and cups her hand into a regal wave. “Hope Sharon removes that stick from your arse before dinner tonight, you miserable sack of shit. Suck my dick!”

Harry laughs. “As much as I appreciate the support, Muffin Cakes, that’s one insult that just doesn’t work when you say it.”

And Ginny doesn’t know what comes over her next… she really, really doesn’t.

Because in the blink of an eye, she’s pushed Harry against the front door with a petulant pout. The pulsing between her legs returns with humiliating swiftness; it’s a blessing, really, that Harry’s dreadful at flirting and picking up on cues. They’re in public, but this is the furthest thing from acting.

Nonetheless, Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as her arms drape around his neck. She watches, rapt, as his eyes darken. Apart from that one slip-up last night, he’s excelled at his job… and as she leans into his hard chest, she realizes how she really feels: she's jealous. Dreadfully jealous.

How dare he be better at this? What in hell gave him the right to soak her knickers with a single look? She’s had years of professional training and a lifetime of practice, but it comes naturally to him— this pretending shit.

And for fuck’s sake… he’s a lot better at it.

“But it’s been ages since you’ve been in my knickers, Baby Bear,” she croons, batting her eyelashes. “How would you know?”

She intends it playfully. A gentle way to put him in his place. But to her surprise, something stinging and sober crosses Harry’s face.

The moment’s over… absolutely over.

In a flash, he pushes her away and gestures at the door. After you. She nods, still turned on but now confused. The whole thing reminds her of ancient history, where she waited for him after each quidditch practice and thought, wished, prayed that he’d touch her… all while hoping to God he wouldn’t.

It takes until they’re inside for her to figure out why he’s upset.

He locks the door behind them with a wave of his wand— and when he whips around, his face is twisted into such a brooding scowl that it pins her on the spot. Shit.

“It goes without saying,” Harry mutters, voice dangerously low, “that there are some things a bloke just doesn’t forget.” He lets out a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering. “Ok?”

Oh.

Ginny’s cheeks flush as it all comes rushing back. She’s honestly forgotten how… attached he was to that ability. How much he prided himself on being able to please her. How he worshipped her body with such respectful, hushed reverence that it still features in her fantasies.

It seems there’s a limit to his acting skills, after all. A line that he just won’t cross. She should be chuffed that she got what she wanted. Instead, her stomach throbs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.” He waves his hand over his shoulder and trudges upstairs, leaving her in hollow silence.

Right.

_________________________________

Mr. Gogolak crosses his left leg over his right and swirls his brandy tumbler. Between the ruddy patches on his cheeks and the way his words slip over each other, it’s not his first of the evening. Harry’s reminded of Slughorn. In the worst possible way.

“Anyway.” Gogolak waves at the massive tabbed binder to his left. “As the rules clearly stipulate, a trampoline would lead to other things. Unsavory things.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip.

Harry’s eyes flit around the room, trying to take it all in. The decor is… nice, he supposes, if you want every guest to be aware — beyond a shadow of a doubt— that You’ve Been Abroad, thanks. Multi-colored felt flower vases dot the floating shelves above Gogolak’s head, each a pop of color in a room that’s otherwise painfully beige. Scrolls hand-painted with renditions of Buddha and Lokta hang on the far wall. And above them… Harry cocks his head, puzzled, and tries to place where he’s seen that particular mask before.

“Of course,” Ginny agrees with a fervent nod. “We understand the need for decorum and cooperation, don’t we, Hen?”

“Where‘s that mask from?” Harry blurts, nudging his chin up.

Ginny rubs her temples in frustration, but if anything, Gogolak seems flattered.

“Oh! That.” His face flushes with pride as he takes another drink. “That’s a wrathful Mahakala mask. From Tibet! I bought it cheap off a street orphan during my last trip. Can’t say he had much need for it, what with being starving and living in the street.” His laugh booms over the sitting room.

Harry tries to focus. He’s there for Ginny. He’s there for Ginny. He’s only backup. But ah, bugger, after the other shit today it’s too much, and—

“Ha!” Harry returns his humorless laugh. “Isn’t poverty hilarious, Jen?”

There’s an anxious pause.

Ginny ends it with a fake giggle of her own. “As you can see, Mr. Gogolak, my husband is growing a bit testy without his exercise!” She nudges Harry in the ribs— hard enough to make her point, but not hard enough to hurt. “So if we could only have the trampoline, then—”

“‘Fraid not,” Gogolak slurs, peering down at his brandy again. “See, there’s a reason Arcadia has been named Best Village for so long: People simply love to live here!”

“Oh?” Ginny returns her teacup to the table. “Everyone loves to live here?” She rests her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a discreet whisper. “What about the people who’ve gone missing, then?”

At first, Gogolak is unperturbed. Then his smile deepens, his eyes traveling from Ginny’s face down to her chest. For fuck’s sake. This arsehole can’t be serious! Harry’s gut swirls with something visceral and protective. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as his hand inches for the wand in his back pocket. Ginny catches his hand on the way and interlaces their fingers with an almost imperceptible, “Shh.”

“Well, well, well,” Gogolak drawls, leaning back to full-on leer at her. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should’ve known. You’re a ginger, after all.”

Wrong answer.

“Not sure what the color of her hair has to do with her question,” Harry says stiffly. It’s the politest thing he can manage. Ginny squeezes his thigh.

Gogolak faces Harry instead, his face a mask of delighted malice. “Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Petri,” he drawls. “You must forgive an old man for noticing.”

“Pee-tri,” Harry grouses.

Is it possible to accidentally Avada Kedavra someone with your eyes? Surely he’d be forgiven for that, yeah? He counts five deep breaths, his face burning, as he waits for Ginny to take the lead.

He’s still a bit taken aback at how quickly things changed. He thought he was irritated with her earlier, but now he realizes that frustrated is a better word. They haven’t been together in ages, but she has to know what she still does to him. It wasn’t like she’d grown less beautiful. And while he’s not proud of how things ended, he’s spent the last five years taking pride in knowing her. In being her first, as primitive and knuckle-dragging as that sounds. Because no matter how bad things were, he was always able to make her…

Yeah.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Had he deluded himself into thinking it was as good for her as it was for him?

Ginny clears her throat again. “But what of the people?” she prompts. “The missing people? Like Eric Highland, who lived in our house until last August, when—”

“Oh, him!” Gogolak booms out another uncomfortable laugh and drains the rest of his tumbler. “Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but—” He makes a slitting motion across his throat and pours himself another drink. “Committed suicide. Quite a mess.”

Then Gogolak stills, his eyes widening; for the first time this evening, he looks vaguely embarrassed. “Oh, but not in your home, of course!” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’d never, you know, let someone move in after that. Would affect property values, you see.”

Harry’s heart pounds in his ears as Ginny clenches his hand, for once. He wonders if he’s ever given less of a shit about property values.

Another span of uncomfortable silence stretches between them… but this one grows more furious and heated with every second. The version of her he knew before would have Bat Bogeyed this wanker before she took a breath. But everything’s different now.

“That’s… not the preferred term,” Ginny finally manages, her voice strained. Harry grips her hand more tightly; that odd rush of pride returns. He knew she’d say something. There’s not a single version of her that would let that go.

Gogolak’s brow furrows. “What do you—”

“—Took his life,” Ginny interjects, her voice ringing with the righteousness Harry only dimly recognizes from the woman he knew before. “Or died by suicide. Or had terminal depression.”

He holds her hand even tighter as she draws a deep breath, shifting in her seat. Get him, Gin. Get the bastard. Whatever you need, I’m there.

“Committed is a word that… implies a crime,” Ginny finishes. But her words sound careful now. “It just adds to the stigma that people with mental illness are problematic. Words mean things. So.”

Gogolak presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will,” Ginny says coolly.

Ginny hadn’t thought much could be worse than the meeting with Mr. Gogolak. Unfortunately, dinner with Sharon and Oliver is proving her wrong.

“This is free-range chicken, of course,” Oliver drawls, gesturing towards their plates. “Got them at the organic market. Anything for health!”

They’d already been treated to iceberg lettuce salads and glasses of generic Merlot. Perhaps she should have anticipated chicken breast and rice as the thrilling main course.

Harry cuts his chicken breast with a sigh. “That’s a pity, Oliver. We all know that caged chickens are tastier!”

Ginny muffles a snort with a cough and reaches for her glass of wine.

Sharon pauses, fork mid-way to her mouth, to peer at Harry, bleary-eyed and confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake; what was it about suburbia that removed one’s ability to recognize a joke?

Oliver changes the subject before Ginny gets the chance. “Where did you two meet, anyway?” he grunts. “And how long have you been married?”

Ginny smiles, preparing the canned response they practiced for months. They met in uni through mutual friends. They both work in computers, and last year, they finally realized it was time to leave the big city.

Harry shatters all of that with three words.

“Magic camp, actually!” he announces, throwing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Fuck. She analyzes her chicken with newfound intensity and tries to imagine something sad.

“Huh,” Oliver says flatly. “Wouldn’t have taken either of you for magicians.”

Sharon has the grace to act embarrassed. “Now now, love,” she chides, reaching for the breadbasket, “I’m sure people have loads of hobbies that aren’t always obvious to everyone!”

“Exactly!” Harry grins and reaches for a piece of baguette. “Besides, it’s mostly Jenny who’s mad for it. Card tricks, pulling bunnies from hats, sawing women in half. Even—” he pauses for a dramatic gasp— “magic wands! You name it, she loves it.”

“Well!” Sharon raises her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s feigning being impressed. “If I’m ever in need of disappearing something, I’ll know who to call!”

Aha! The perfect opening!

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ginny starts, as casually as possible, “we checked with Saint Julian’s Primary. It’s not true Mike left on business.”

Sharon’s smile freezes and melts with such speed that Ginny feels a pang of sympathy. Poor Sharon. She’s really just doing her best to be a pleasant hostess. It’s Oliver who has the clear ulterior motive.

The man in question takes another sip of wine, unfazed. “And why did you have interest in contacting a primary school in the first place? Bit weird for a grown adult, that.”

Harry releases another fake chuckle. “Oh, Oliver, you’re such a prankster!” He bites off some bread. “Surely you’re not turning the tables on my wife and accusing her of being the weird one. After all, all she did was ask about the whereabouts of a lovely member of our community. Right?”

He gives Oliver such an exaggerated wink that even Ginny almost believes him. “And besides…” Harry’s hand wraps around her shoulder again. “Do you reckon we should tell them?” he murmurs, voice laden with his expectation.

Ginny rolls her eyes, fully intent on a thin-lipped, silent warning about making shit up… but Harry’s earnest expression stops her. His green eyes blink behind his glasses, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. Before she knows what’s happening, one of his warm hands cups her chin while the other comes to rest on her stomach.

Oh. She sucks in a breath, her heart pounding— because for a moment, she forgets where she is. She forgets they’re faking. She forgets they split up and chose separate paths, that they weren’t looking through a portal of what could have been, should have been, before their lives turned to shit.

“Not yet, of course,” Harry murmurs, appearing for all the world like he’s drinking her in as his fingers tap at her stomach. “But soon. We hope.”

And with that, he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to the Skinners. “Anyway, that’s why we called Saint Julian’s,” Harry adds, nonchalantly as you please. “Always good to be prepared, eh?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Sharon cries, clasping her hands together. “And yes, I agree— preparedness is key.”

“Knew you’d be happy for us,” Harry says with another wink. “Quite an exciting time, I’m sure you understand.”

It’s then that Ginny finds her voice. “So. Erm,” she starts, trying to focus. “They hadn’t heard from him. Mike. The school, I mean.” She takes another sip of wine to get her bearings back. “Any idea where he could’ve gone? You understand why we’re a bit worried, especially if we’re planning to—”

“No,” Oliver snaps, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s fork clatters to her plate; if swearing were allowed in this house, Ginny’s confident she would’ve let one slip. “I don’t understand, and you’ll find that snooping isn’t a past-time I appreciate,” Oliver finishes, drawing himself up taller to puff out his chest.

Ginny lets out an incredulous chuckle. “But Oliver… this is a matter of safety. We’re worried about our neighbor.”

“Yeah, Ollie-O!” Harry clucks his tongue, relaxing further into his chair. “Perhaps Arcadia isn’t as perfect as we were led to believe.”

Oliver just fixes them both with a stern glare. “Nope,” he says flatly. The p pops. “You’re wrong. Per usual.”

For six seconds, the four of them sit in painful, frigid silence. Ginny feels Harry’s hand reach behind him… inching closer to his wand...

“Jenny!” Sharon finally chirps, her voice a falsetto. Oh, thank fuck. “I need to walk the dog. Would you join me?”

___________________________

Captain Bone’s toenails tick on the pavement as Sharon holds his lead. Ginny peers at him with unexpected affection as he prances beneath the street lights. Dogs are too high-maintenance for her to even consider, but something about this one is undeniably appealing. As if he hears her, Captain Bone turns to Ginny with a slobbery grin.

Sharon laughs. “He likes you. He’s a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Ginny scratches beneath the thick leather collar with Captain Bone emblazoned on a bronze plate. He throws his head back for more access. Poor Captain Bone. The whole collar looked horribly uncomfortable. “I like him too,” Ginny agrees as he flounces away. “I’m afraid work keeps me too busy for a dog, though.”

Sharon waves this away. “Nah. I’ve seen the way Henry stares at you.” She flashes a knowing smile as they continue strolling, side-by-side. “I reckon if you really wanted a dog, he’d oblige.”

Captain Bone halts, mid-step, and picks up his leg. Sharon removes a waste bag from her pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny mutters. She’s not sure why that feels like admitting to a scandal.

Sharon sighs. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Like he’s holding the whole world in his hands.” Her voice grows wistful, distant; Ginny has a feeling she’s not actually talking about Harry at all.

“Well, we are newlyweds.” Ginny mashes her kitten heel — a clothing acquisition specific to this assignment — into the pavement. “I’m erm. Sure that’ll change.”

But Sharon just stares at Captain Bone as he does his business. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But I don’t reckon Oliver ever looked at me quite like that.”

Ginny blinks at Sharon beneath the streetlight, the fluorescent throwing her features into sharp relief. Wrinkles fold the corners of her eyes. Bits of gray sprout at her scalp beneath the warm chestnut color. Her smile may have been natural once, but now it’s forced. Uneasy. Ginny grimaces. This poor woman… imagine thinking you couldn’t do better than a wanker like Oliver.

“Shit!” Sharon swears, ripping Ginny from her reverie— and soon, she sees why. Captain Bone charges down the street, his lead scraping the ground like a limp noodle. “I wasn’t holding him tightly enough,” she whispers, horrified. “I’ll have to—”

“No,” Ginny says, taking off her heels and thrusting them into Sharon’s arms. “Let me!” And with that, she’s off, bare feet slapping the pavement.

“Don’t blame you for trying to get away,” Ginny mutters, rounding a corner. “The place is bloody creepy. But next time, Captain Bone, could you do this in broad daylight? Nighttime ‘round here is—”

Wait.

Ginny stops, dead in her tracks. A weird sensation creeps over her, crawling against her skin. All the street noise vanishes. Crickets stop chirping; wind stops whistling. She looks around, panic rising in her throat, but nothing looks amiss. She can’t shake it, though… their eerie, numb ringing that fills her head, and—

Like a thunderclap, it all comes back. The faint wind returns. Bugs resume their buzzing. The electric lamppost makes a dull crackling just above her.

Weird. Very fucking weird.

Luckily, Ginny specializes in weird; in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, she’s more confused than frightened. She takes a few more shaky steps, making every observation she can (temperature, cloud pattern, weather conditions, insect movement)... and that’s when she spies something glinting to her left. Something golden and stuffed in a storm drain.

No. Ginny’s heart pounds as she rushes over, sinking to her knees. It can’t be…

But the closer she gets, the clearer it is: Mike’s chain necklace… the medallion of Saint Julian. Right beside Captain Bone’s pretentious leather collar. For the first time, fear floods her stomach. She surreptitiously reaches for the wand tucked into her waistband. “Accio necklace.” It soars through the gate and into her hand just as Sharon’s footsteps round the corner.

Ginny shoves the necklace into her bra— and it’s only then she realizes that there must’ve been something strange and slimy hanging from it, because whatever the fuck that was is now pressed to her right nipple.

Blech. It takes every bit of her willpower not to shudder and gag. She manages to school her features into innocent concern as Sharon finally catches up.

“Well,” pants Sharon, hands on her thighs, “did you find him?”

“No,” Ginny laments, genuinely upset. She gestures towards the storm drain. “But for some reason, his collar’s down there.”

Even beneath the streetlamps, Sharon’s face turns white.

______________________________

Harry’s back muscles contract in agony as he hunches over the laptop. This whole assignment is a painful reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be. How many hours did he spend snoozing on the lawn at Hogwarts without so much as an ache? But a single bloody night on these shit couches, and he’s popping Paracetamol like sweets. He shifts in place; must be time for another dose.

“Hear anything?” Ginny emerges from the walk-in closet in a towel turban and fluffy white dressing gown, two evidence bags in her hands.

Harry glares at the laptop screen and tries very hard not to remember that one of those bags contains a lacy black bra— one he definitely hasn’t seen before. For the past hour, he’s been in an envious haze of wondering if she bought it for the mission or bought it to wear for someone else.

Either way, it consoles him that deep down, she’s still Ginny; she took this necklace and shoved it into her bra without letting on that something vile and gross was pressed to her ti—

He shakes his head to clear it, but that hurts his neck. For once, though, he embraces the pain. Anything to shift his focus.

“From the props department? No.” Harry sighs and retrieves the medicine bottle from his luggage. “I swear, I have no idea who they got to make the moving boxes and pick the couches, but I’m fairly sure Victoire could do better.”

Ginny scoffs at this. “Well, of course Vic could do better. She’s the most perfect, adorable human alive,” she says fondly, tossing the evidence bags in the transporter box.

It’s plain cardboard, easily disguised as a standard moving box. But with three taps of her wand, the bags evaporate, presumably materializing in a Ministry lab somewhere. Not that Harry cares about the specifics. This is a key example of the sort of detail that’s less and less intriguing the longer he holds this job.

“But I was actually asking if you’d heard anything about Mike and — hey, what are you doing?”

“Paracetamol,” Harry mutters, popping open the bottle. “I’m getting old, Ginny,” he warns, rising to his feet with an exaggerated grimace. “Dunno why you thought it would be a good idea to go on a mission with an old man.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. “You don’t need to be so bloody noble. Please join me on the bed. We could make it longer, even, if you—”

He clears his throat to cut her off. That would be a terrible idea on all counts. Silence on the other side of the door tells him that Ginny either realizes this or chooses not to press the issue. Good...

“Erm. There’s no hits on Mike,” Harry calls into the bathroom. “I reckon he’s dead, Ginny. Credit cards and car haven’t been touched.”

The tap turned on behind the door. “Can’t say I’m shocked,” Ginny admits, voice muffled, “but— holy hell, who taught you how to squeeze toothpaste?”

Harry smirks and returns to the computer. “Myself, probably.”

Ginny lets out another irritated groan. “And the toilet seat’s up!” She strides out of the bathroom. “Strike two!”

Harry hears the distinctive sound of clothing hitting the floor beside her bed but wills himself not to turn around, not to turn around, not to—

“Well.” Ginny sucks her teeth as the bedding rustles. “I suppose I should take all of that as a good sign, really. You clearly don’t have girls in and out of your flat.”

Oh?

Harry’s heart thunders in his ears, his stomach flipping in hope. She takes that as a good sign? Really? He glimpses over his shoulder before remembering he’s not supposed to look.

And just as quickly, he regrets it.

Because Ginny’s sprawled back against the bed, her face so white that she nearly blends into the linens, but his eyes aren’t too focused on her face. They’re drawn down, down, down… down to her creamy chest, dotted with chocolate freckles. Down to her breasts, which he definitely still knows every inch of, even as they rest beneath a black lace vest he hasn’t seen before. Down to the shorts that hug her hips and graze the tips of her thighs… the same thighs he spread open and dipped his head between as she tugged on his hair, her cries breathy and panting in the garden’s evening mist.

Ah, fuck. That one does it. Harry adjusts his basketball shorts as discreetly as possible, but another glimpse at her face tells him he didn’t need to worry.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she whispers, eyes filled with horror.

Harry clears his throat. He honestly forgot she said anything. Now he just feels guilty for eyeing her up while she spiraled.

“I’m so… fuck. This is so unprofessional.” She sinks her head into her hands. “Please, Harry, forget that I said anything. I’m so sorry. That was—”

“It’s forgotten,” he rumbles, his voice deeper than he realized. “Legitimately. I’ve already forgotten it.”

She shoots him a weak smile through the slits of her hands. “I know you haven’t. But thanks for saying it.”

Harry offers his best expression of bafflement as he picks up a pillow from the end of her bed. “Haven’t a clue what you mean, Unspeakable GW. See you at 0-700 hours.” He stops halfway out the door and gives her a military salute. “Unless, of course, you decide to start a bit later,” he adds seriously, “in which case I’ll see you… erm. 0-whenever-the-hell-you-wake-up-hours.”

Ginny giggles, settling against the pillows again.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment, peering at her cuticles. “For… everything. And especially for forgetting—” She makes a vague hand gesture as her cheeks flush the most fascinating shade of pink.

Harry stills, one hand on the doorknob.

He wants to make her feel better… but really, it’s more than that. He wants to tell her that his heart still jumps into his throat when he hears about an Unspeakable being injured on the job. He wants to admit that he avoids Sundays at the Burrow not because he stopped caring, but because he cares too much. He wants to confess, in a rush of passion, that she wasn’t just his first: she’s his only. That he reckons she’ll always be his only. That exchanging work for Them was the stupidest thing he ever agreed to, regardless of the circumstances.

Oh, and of course, that he still fucking loves her. Harry rubs his forehead, frustration gnawing at his stomach. Why in hell did he admit that to himself? You never admit that to yourself. What an idiot.

Still, they have a mission… a moronic, suburban mission filled with every literal and metaphorical breed of Karen imaginable. But as worthless as Harry considers this whole assignment, her neck is on the line if they come up empty-handed. And she values her assignment— and her neck, he reckons— quite a bit.

So he makes the choice to both reassure her. And to be foolishly honest.

“Erm… for what it’s worth?” Harry croaks, staring down the dark corridor to avoid meeting her eyes. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted in my bedroom, anyway.”

Before she can reply, he closes the door and walks away. His cheeks burn as he pads downstairs, but Harry knows it’s best to leave it, really. To save them both the awkwardness.

Even if it means sleeping on this shit couch forever.

[nnightskiess]

r e q u e s t : Hi ! How are you ? I’m so sad as to what happened with Naya she was a huge inspiration in my life and It hit me really bad But I want to ask for an imagine where you are Santana’s little sister and you come in to join the glee club and you’re better then Rachel and she starts saying stuff but you pop off on her and Santana backs you up?? If you can, sorry if it doesn’t make sense

                                                             ✫彡

Y/N sat cross-legged on a chair in the back row, texting one of her friends to try and pass the time. Mr. Schuester was late, as always. Her older sister, Santana, walked in with Brittany close behind her. They sat down in the chairs in front of Y/N and turned around to the younger Lopez to engage her in their conversation. 

Their conversation was cut short when a loud clap of hands and an exciting yelp, coming from no other than Rachel Berry, interrupted them. Santana immediately rolled her eyes, knowing she was about to say something stupid again. 

“You guys, I have amazing news!”

Y/N groaned loudly, knowing whatever Rachel had to say would probably only have interest to Rachel herself.

“I just made up my mind on what song I’ll be singing for regionals.” She went to stand in front of the group. If she had paid close attention, she’d seen that not all of them were pleased with her statement. 

“What you’ll be singing?” Y/N cocked an eyebrow when Rachel stared at her for a few seconds. “We can all sing, we’re not your ensamble.”

“Didn’t you see how much everyone loved my solo at sectionals?! I want... I mean, we want that same standing ovation for regionals!” 

“Oh, hell no.”

Puck cleared his throat, looking between Y/N and Rachel. “I kind of think Little-Lopez has a point.” 

“Yeah, why can’t someone else get a solo this time? Sure, you’re an amazing singer but maybe you should give someone else a... chance... for once?” Artie tried to reason with her but his voice slowly died down after seeing Rachel’s disappointed expression.

The girl looked at Y/N for a split second only to see her with her arms crossed and a sneer on her face.

“So I’m taking you guys don’t want to win regionals then? Because we won’t if we’re changing our obviously, well-oiled, brilliant plan.” She took a deep breath and scribbled the name of the song down on the whiteboard- Always Starting Over from the musical If/Then.

“Listen here, Berry.” Y/N cocked her head to one side, “That obviously, well-oiled, brilliant plan of yours makes us look like your jazz hands, dancing oompa loompa’s who are just there to try and make you look better. Well, Willy Wonka, get this- I’m done being your background furniture that you picked up along the road just because we were free to take and have piss stains all over us.”

Santana whistled proudly at the insult her younger sister had just thrown at Rachel and it earned a few hums of approval from some of the other Glee club members.

Rachel was taken back for a few seconds but regained herself and cleared her throat, “Did you forget the cheering I got after my part? Why can’t you see that that’s exactly what we need to win regionals as well?”

“Ptchh, you should get your facts checked because they weren’t cheering for you. We all know I’m the better singer out of the two of us.” 

Santana crossed her arms and gave Rachel a smirk, knowing who had won this argument. Everyone knew that the sassiness that ran in the Lopez family wasn’t only given to Santana. When it came to that, the two sisters were basically carbon copies of each other.

“That is so out of line! You talk the talk but when it comes to the performance you don’t walk the walk.” Rachel pointed a finger at the younger Lopez sibling and Y/N shot up, her fists balled up in rage. She was about to lounge at Rachel until Mr. Schue walked in.

“What is happening, guys?” 

“Y/N is throwing a spanner in the works of our way to end up on top at regionals.”

Mr. Schue put his bag down onto the piano and eyed the younger girl for a few seconds, silently asking her for an explanation.

Santana rolled her eyes, “Hardiharhar, don’t be so dramatic. Y/N just expressed her displeasure and put her in her place- the lowest of the low in the hierarchy, where she belongs.” She shrugged.

“Santana.” Was all that Mr. Schuester said before turning to Rachel, who pointed to the song written down on the whiteboard. 

“I’ve practiced this song for months and I think regionals is the right moment to finally sing it and show them what I got.” 

He nodded, “Wow, If/Then is a great musical. Are you sure you can handle this song?”

Rachel nodded enthusiastically.

“Very well then!” He turned to the group, “I think we just found our first song for regionals.” He smiled his goofy smile. Mercedes and Kurt looked at each other before rolling their eyes while Quinn sighed and sank into her chair.

Santana furrowed her eyebrows again and shook her head in disbelief, hoping she didn’t just hear him say that.

“Um...hello?” She waved her arms around until Mr. Schue looked at her. “Okay, good! You do see us! For a second I thought you completely forgot about the rest of us existing.”

Mr. Schue sighed and looked down before eyeing his students, “Listen, I know everyone here works very hard, and each of you has an amazing and unique voice, but for now I think that we should just let Rachel sing the solo at regionals. However, that doesn’t mean that I render any of you unworthy of taking the lead another time. You will all get to sing a part in the second song, I promise.”

“How’s that fair? We didn’t even get a chance to tell you what we would like to sing or show you what we got.” Mercedes spoke up.

“Rachel practices every day. She deserves to sing.” Finn shrugged.

“No one asked you, Finn.” Y/N shot at the boy, who widened his eyes in response. “You don’t have a leg to stand on in this discussion, we all know you will probably get the male lead.”

Y/N then turned back to Mr. Schue. “Everyone knows Rachel is your favourite and I’m sick of it. You treat her like she’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

“That’s not true. I don’t do favourites.”

“Yes, you do. You clearly favourite that vest because it’s all you’ve been wearing for the past two weeks.” Santana shrugged.

Mr. Schuester rubbed his temple. Having to deal with not only one, but two Lopez girls was making him age faster. Especially at times when they let their minds run rampant. 

Y/N crossed her arms. “I signed up for Glee club, not for ‘Sing-And-Smile-In-The-Background-Of-The-Rachel-Berry-Show’ club. Half the time, we’re not even on stage during her songs.”

“Wait, does that club exist?” Brittany mumbled under her breath. 

“Guys, when have I ever steered you wrong? Please, trust me on this.” Mr. Schuester placed his hand on his heart. 

“I think you’re just jealous.” Rachel’s tone was challenging as she sat down next to Finn. 

Y/N shot up again.

“Yes, you might know how to sing, but you’ll never be able to leave the audience as impressed as I ever will.” 

Santana now shot up as well.

“Qué acabas de decirme?” (What did you just say to me?)

Both girls made a move to lounge at Rachel but Quinn, Mike and Sam held them back. They struggled to do so while Y/N threw all the Spanish insults she knew at the girl in front of her.

“Enough!” Mr. Schuester tried but his voice didn’t stand out in the chaotic yelling. He sighed before clearing his throat.

“I want you both out.” He directed to the two sisters.

“Now!” 

Everyone fell silent and it seemed to do the trick. Y/N slowly turned to him. Mr. Schue had a stern look on his face while he glared at the siblings. He kept pointing at the door. 

“Fine.” Y/N grabbed her backpack, waited for Santana to dust herself off and grab her belongings too.

“You know what? I could use a break.” Santana huffed as both of them walked out of the room. Their heads held high, no dignity lost over what just happened.

They walked to the football bleachers where Santana immediately lit up a sigaret. 

“Do you think he kicked us out... permanently?” 

It was times like these, when it was only the two of them, where Y/N still depended on her older sister. 

“Maybe.” Santana shrugged her shoulders, “If he can’t appreciate having you in the club then that’s his loss.”

Santana gave Y/N  a playful nudge with her shoulder when the younger Lopez still seemed deep in thought. Y/N looked up to see Santana’s soft smile and she immediately sent her a goofy smile back. 

“They can’t go to regionals without us. And if they do find a way, we’ll just have to start our own Glee club, huh?” She smirked. “I’m sure it won’t take long before Mercedes is sick of it as well.” She comforted her little sister.

“Yeah, but what will we do in the meantime?”

Santana furrowed her eyebrows, wanting Y/N to elaborate.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this- but I actually really like Glee club and I was pretty excited for regionals.”

Santana nodded, “I know you do. I can see it in your eyes when you sing.” She took another drag of her sigaret. “Between you and me, I enjoy singing in Glee club as well.” 

Y/N nodded softly and brought her legs close to her body so she could let her chin rest on her knees. 

“San?” 

Her sister hummed in return.

“Was Rachel right?” She looked up at Santana, “Am I really not giving that good of a performance?” 

“Baby, no.” Santana gave her a stern look, telling her not to go there. “You might’ve only done one couplet by yourself so far... but even in the songs where you sing background vocals, you manage to outshine the rest.”

“But there must be a reason why I haven’t got the chance to lead a song yet.”

“Yup. And that reason is Rachel, dwarf, Berry.” Santana shrugged. “You know I’d tell you if you sucked.”

Y/N laughed at that, Santana so would.

“If Mr. Schue isn’t letting us show him what we got, then we have to come up with another way to get through that head of his how capable you are of leading a song.” 

Santana suddenly stood up, put out her sigaret with her shoe and motioned for Y/N to take her hand.

It was a few days later and neither Santana or Y/N had attended Glee club after what happened on Monday. Rachel had made herself very clear to Y/N that she was very disappointed in her since Y/N’s jealousy caused the club to not be able to partake in regionals. Brittany had tried convince the two girls to join Glee club again with a clumsily, selfmade powerpoint and even Finn had kindly asked them to reconsider going back. But they simply couldn’t, at least not just yet.

But now that it was Friday, everything was ready to go. 

The two Lopez girls decided to wait a few minutes until everyone was present before they walked into the room. Mr. Schue stopped talking and turned around, a disappointed look on his face.

“We’re not here for a pity-party and we’re definitely not walking in with our tails tucked between our legs,” Santana started as a few band members shyly shuffled their way into the room, instruments in hand. 

“We just want to show you that we are fully capable of leading a song.” Y/N spoke as she shoo’d everyone to the side. 

“Hit it.”

[glee performance of tina turner’s ‘river deep, mountain high’, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82lYMlXB-fI ]

Rachel seemed unsettled during the performance, clearly noticing how everyone else was enjoying the two sisters sing. Mr. Schue, who had seem hesitant at first, was now visibly entertained and impressed and had already long forgotten what happened a few days earlier. Rachel sunk further into her seat when she noticed that. 

Everyone knew the Lopez girls both had beautiful voices, but that they would sound so well together was news to them all. Mr. Schue now realised what a shame it was that he had never explored letting different kids sing together, and that all his attention had always been on the same people.

What topped the performance off, was the excitement in the sisters’ eyes. They were clearly having fun with the song and their minds seemed to have no memory of why they originally decided to perform. It was just them and the music they danced and sang along to.

But when the band played the last melodies, they suddenly seemed to remember and turned back around to the group with proud smirks on their faces.

On the last note, Santana held her hand up for her sister to high five.

Everyone started clapping and Mr. Schuester stood up, walking up to them.  

“Ladies! That was fantastic!” He gave Y/N a pat on her shoulder. “Now that is how you sing a song! Well done!”

Rachel silently clapped along. She would never say out loud how much she had enjoyed their performance.

“I’m sorry, Rachel, but now that I’ve seen this-” Mr. Schue rubbed his chin, “I want to try a different approach at regionals. This is what will get the crowd’s attention!” 

He turned to Rachel, an apologetic look on his face, “Do you mind giving your solo to Santana and Y/N?” 

Rachel shrugged absentmindedly, trying to make it seem like she didn’t care, “It’s healthy to have some competition. It will push me to become a better performer.” 

Mr. Schue nodded and turned back to the Lopez girls. 

“Congratulations, you two. It’s yours!”

Everyone clapped again until Santana spoke up.

“No, no, no. I’m backing out.” 

“W-why?” Confusion was written all over Mr. Schue’s face. “I thought it’s what you two wanted?"

“What I wanted was for you to realise that there are other people capable of leading a performance.” She turned to her sister, who had been confused at Santana’s decision up until now. “People like Y/N, for example. You take it. I know you can do it without me.”

Y/N tried to convince her otherwise, “But you’ve never had a solo either! We should-”

“Uh, uh.” Santana waved her finger, “I want you to take it.” 

The two had a little face off for a few seconds, it was their way of talking to each other without words. Santana cocked her head to the side, knowing Y/N was about to give in.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine.” 

Santana smiled widely, grabbed her sister and planted a kiss on her head.

“I’ll always back you up.” 

She winked at Y/N before the two of them went to sit down, ready for today’s Glee club.

[upamongthestarss]

Perfect Timing//Bill Denbrough x fem reader

Please be kind! This is only my second time publishing on tumblr, so I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but here we are!

Warnings: smut, brief mention of fem oral receiving, swearing, mild angst, underage drinking

Spring break came way too slowly, especially for Y/n. Freshman year of college is said to be one of the best years of your life, but it’s definitely the worst. Her high school was entirely too easy for her, probably because her teachers were just idiots. Then college hit, and the workload was unbearable. Not to mention, she grew homesick for her parents and her best friends and even a tiny bit for Bill. 

Oh, how she hated Bill back home. 

Well, okay, she didn’t hate him, it was more of just a mutual tension that sometimes led to the Losers separating them at all costs. 

They went on a few dates freshman year, and even kissed once, but it all ended when popular Autumn asked Bill to “help her with English” at lunch one day. He completely forgot to tell Y/n, but didn’t think much of the whole affair anyway. When Y/n walked out of the lunch line, she smiled at her newly official boyfriend. He was hunched over a piece of paper, diligently writing with ginger hair falling into his eyes. When Autumn saw her coming over, she tapped Bill on the shoulder, and kissed him full on the mouth when he turned to her.

Y/n’s hands went slack, causing her tray to clatter to the ground. Tomato soup splattered all over her new white Keds. She obviously looked down to see the damage, and missed Bill pushing Autumn off of him. He went over to check on her and help her clean up, but she stormed off to the bathrooms. 

From then on out, there’s been so much tension between them. Even though Bill explained what happened countless times, she’s absolutely refused to listen. She’s had trust issues after her biological father cheated on her mother when she was little, and this, well, this basically made them inflate like the economy. She wasn’t on speaking terms with him until the end of the school year, and even then their friendship was rocky.

But there was also a sexual tension. Bill and Y/n still had blatantly obvious feelings for each other, whether they wanted to admit or not. In fact, they even went to senior prom together, but it ended in disaster. There was a dramatic exit from Y/n when he mentioned how he was on good terms with Autumn now, and she was really sorry for what happened. 

“Why the hell would you bring that up now?” Y/n rose from her seat.

“B-b-because she t-told me she w-wanted us to-”

“Can’t we just completely forget what happened back then? It was so long ago.”

Bill flushed. “Well, it r-r-really seems l-like you’ve n-n-never forgotten ab-about it these past th-three years.”

She threw her napkin on the table and left after saying, “You’re a dick.”

That night she vented to Eddie and ultimately admitted to having feelings for him, but he knew that all along anyway.

That night was the last time they talked until it was time for Bill to leave for NYU.

“Good luck,” she told him, bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously. 

“Th-thank you, Y/n, y-you too!” he was so excited that day that he even pulled her into a hug, much to her surprise (and delight). 

And now, here she is, on the plane to Palm Springs. It’s a long flight from Marywood, so Y/n uses her time to finish her homework. She’s majorly jetlagged by the time she lands at Palm Springs International. Luckily, the cab ride isn’t ridiculously long. When she gets to Richie’s beach house, he’s on the porch with his feet up and a daiquiri in hand.

“Y/N!!!!” he shouts, putting his drink to the side and running down the stairs.

“RICHIE!!!!” she yells back, dropping her bags to run and hug him. 

“Oh, it’s been so long!”

“I know!! And holy shit, your house is gorgeous!”

“I’m telling you, Y/n, I lucked out so much by scoring that audition. Can you believe it? Rich Records Tozier, the nation’s youngest beloved DJ.”

“Hardly,” she chuckles. “So how is the life of fame treating you?”

“Oh, brilliant. Come on in, I’ll give you a tour,” he scoops up her bag and leads her to the door. It’s an incredible house, with a beautiful kitchen and even a movie theater. 

“And here’s your room,” he gestures to the first door upstairs. 

“May I?” she asks, hand on the doorknob. 

“Be my guest.”

She swings it open to a redheaded girl on one of the two beds. She looks up from her magazine, smirking. “Hey, roomie!”

“Bev!” Y/n shrieks as her best friend runs to her and practically knocks her over. 

“When did you get here?!” 

“About an hour ago. Stan’s here too, but he’s taking a nap.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Y/n grins mischievously. 

“Everyone else is supposed to get here tomorrow morning, except for Mike. He’s coming tonight.”

“Oh, thank God. No Bill for a half day more.”

“Oh, Y/n, don’t be so close-minded,” Bev giggles and they sit down on the same bed, bursting with so much to catch up on. Richie doesn’t know if he should sit down with them or just go back to his daiquiri, but the doorbell rings.

“Saved by the bell,” he says, getting the side eye in response. 

The girls talk for hours until they decide to say hello to Mike. Y/n stops at the bathroom first, and it takes her a while to find the kitchen after that. She has to follow the voices and Richie’s booming laugh.

“Sorry, I got lost,” she says, turning in the kitchen. “Hi, Mi-”

The third person talking to Richie and Beverly is not Mike.

It’s Bill. And she looks like a total bum in her old sundress and messy ponytail. She isn’t wearing a drop of makeup, either.

“Y/n.”

“Bill. Good to see you,” she holds out her hand professionally. He shakes it.

Is it good to see him? Looking at his cerulean eyes certainly sends butterflies through her stomach and through… other parts of her body.

“Y-you too.”

That immaculate stutter. She sits down at a barstool and crosses her legs together tightly. Richie and Beverly are quick to notice it, but restrain from commenting.

“I thought you were coming in tomorrow morning?” 

She doesn’t sound rude or accusatory, just curious.

“M-my flight got c-c-cancelled.”

“Okay, gotcha.” 

She drums her fingertips on the counter restlessly, not really knowing what else to say.

Luckily, Richie has a plan in case things get awkward between these two- and he’s already having to use it.

“Anyone want a drink?”

************************

“Nursing school is so insane. In anatomy, our teacher dissected a literal human body, and we had to examine it.”

“Eddie, please. We’re eating,” Y/n coughs. 

“It was disgusting, but it was also fascinating,” he defends himself.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Ben shrugs. 

“Y/n, tell us more about Marywood,” Eddie says, but she’s way too busy watching Bill talk to Richie’s cute next door neighbor while holding her little sister.

“You’re so good with her!” she simpers, tossing her shiny brown hair.

“Y/n? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?” 

“How’s Marywood?” 

“Oh, it’s… fine.”

“Just fine? Did you pick a major yet?”

She shakes her head.

“What about that guy? Are you still with him?”

“David? No, we were together for a while, but I guess the spark just kinda died. I mean, he initiated the breakup, but it was all mutual.”

Eddie squirts a dollop of sunscreen the size of a clementine in his hand. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Y/n shrugs, averting her gaze back to Bill. She’s very glad that she's wearing sunglasses, to hide her stares.

The cute girl was right, he is good with that little girl. Her heart would be melted, but Bill keeps flirting with the older sister. It’s disgusting.

And then, that girl has the audacity to drop the rattle she shook in the baby’s face. Y/n is close enough to hear the conversation, or at least read lips.

“Oh, l-l-l-let m-me get that.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” she smiles, bending over so stealthily so that her breasts are all but out of that bikini.

“Ugh,” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“What’s up?” Ben asks.

“Nothing. I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she stands up and walks almost catatonically to the door.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she finds a glass and slams it on the table. 

“D-damn, Y/n. That’s n-n-not a napkin, you kn-know.”

She jumps at Bill’s voice. He obviously followed her in, and she’s not too thrilled about it.

“Funny,” she replies, searching the cabinets. “Do you want anything?”

“I-I was ac-actually getting d-drinks.”

“Oh, for you and your new girlfriend? Hey, let me know when the wedding is. That is, if I even get on the guest list.”

“What’s your p-p-problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Y/n finds a bottle of straight vodka and pours it right in the glass.

“Hey, its eh-eh-eleven AM,” Bill warns her, reaching for the glass. Unfortunately, their hands grab for it at the same time and it goes crashing to the ground. 

“Great, thanks,” she says.

“I didn’t w-want you to be w-w-wasted all d-day.”

“Listen, Bill,” she takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate your concern. I do. But it’s my life, and if I want to get wasted this early, then no one should stop me.” 

He doesn’t answer. They both grab rags and start to clean up around their feet.

“Th-this kind of r-r-reminds me of a certain sit-situation involving t-tomato soup,” Bill risks saying.

It was a terrible idea.

“Are you kidding me? I thought we moved on from that!”

“Yeah, so w-w-we can j-joke about it now!”

She’s silent for a minute, a blend of wrath and sadness.

“Just,” Y/n says, “Just go back out with your girlfriend.”

“I-I-I h-hardly know- o-okay, what the hell is y-y-your problem? We’re n-not together an-anymore!!! You sh-sh-shouldn’t c-care about my l-l-love life.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she stands up, vodka dripping from the rag to her toes. “I don’t care that I shouldn’t care. I do care! I’ve always cared!” 

Bill is speechless, and she honestly doesn’t blame him. Y/n assumes he doesn’t feel the same about her. After all, they haven’t dated since freshman year. Sighing, she puts the rag in the sink and walks back outside.

She’s opening up her book and lying on her stomach to get a tan when Y/n hears an obnoxious “Excuse me?”

She looks up to the girl, who could literally be a bikini model.She looks at Y/n like she’s a piece of dirt, and Y/n just wants to smack her. She could never hurt anyone, though.

“Um, do you know when Bill will be back with the drinks?”

“Not a clue.”

******

Bill absolutely could not stop thinking of Y/n all day. He never really can, ever, but his thoughts have been out of control all damn day. They range from wild fantasies to regrets from way back when to just simply: She still likes me, she still likes me, she still likes me!!!!

He wants more than anything to talk to her and confess he’s been in love with her since high school, maybe even before that. But some small voice in Bill’s head tells him that even if she does have feelings, she won’t want to act on them. After all, he’s been nothing but an asshole to her.

Then again, so has she.

It’s really ironic that they’re so abrasive towards each other. Y/n is so kind and friendly to everyone she meets; that’s why Bill fell for her. And everyone tells him that he’s nothing but a sweetheart. And he’s always treated his every girlfriend like a princess. 

But it’s Y/n he wants as a girlfriend, and it always has been. 

Y/n comes running down the stairs, using the bansiters to prop herself up and skip the last couple steps. She’s been strangely lighthearted after she made that confession to Bill. It had been a weight on shoulders for the longest time, after all. And now that it’s out of the bag, she feels as if she can finally move on.

Holy shit, she’s so cute, Bill says to himself. She has this youthful energy, but the looks of a gorgeous young woman. Not to mention her outfit- a pastel yellow halter top, short jean shorts, and a sky blue scrunchie- looks magnificent.

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” she grins widely. “Sorry for the holdup!”

“You’re good,” Richie replies. “We were just figuring out transportation, considering I can only take five of us in my car.”

“I don’t mind taking the trunk,” Y/n shrugs. “Anyone else?” 

“I will,” Beverly volunteers. 

“Okay, great, and five of you can squish in the backseat. Mike claimed shotgun earlier.”

Everyone else groans while he flashes a smile and gives them finger guns.

“So charming,” Bev laughs and grabs Y/n’s hand. They run out to the car and squish in the trunk.

“Bev, I have to tell you something,” Y/n whispers.

“What?”

“I’m still not over Bill.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” she responds sarcastically.

“How did you know that? I only told Eddie!”

“It was just a little obvious,” she laughs. “And the good news is that we all think he feels the same way!”

“I don’t think he does, Bev,” Y/n shakes her head.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I told him today-”

“You what?”

“Shush!” she scolds as the boys get in the car. Luckily they’re all talking and can’t hear the girls if they whisper. “It just sort of... slipped out. But he didn’t even say anything. He just kind of… froze? It was so awkward.”

“You know he’s a little awkward around girls that he likes.”

“Is he, though?”

“Sure he is!”

“I don’t know, Bev. He stood there for a full thirty seconds without saying anything, and he just let me leave,” Y/n explains. “I think if he really liked me, he would have told me by now.”

Beverly gets quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Hey, it’s okay! The timing was never right, and that- that happens. And it’s better I know now so I’m not hung up on him for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the drive is mostly just Beverly telling Y/n that there’s someone out there for her, and to keep her eyes open at the restaurant. 

It’s a bright restaurant, very tropical and very flamboyant. A lush plant, obviously made of silicon, is the centerpiece of every table. 

Good, it can hide me from Bill and spare my embarrassment, Y/n thinks as she sits opposite him. Unfortunately, Ben asks the hostess to take it away so he can see everyone. Y/n is mortified. Being directly across from her, he can watch and judge the girl the entire dinner.

She tries her hardest the whole meal not to pay Bill any mind, but it gets difficult when he starts getting tipsy. And drunk Bill can be wild. Singing and dancing on the tables wild. Luckily he isn’t at that point yet.

She doesn’t even know how he was able to buy drinks here; he’s only nineteen. The waitress must have a crush on him or something. Maybe she and Richie’s neighbor could start a Bill fanclub.

Y/n has a feeling the waitress would ask for her ID, though, so she sticks to soda. And three Shirley Temples is never good on anyone’s bladder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces. “Anyone else?”

Everyone shakes their heads. Everyone except…

“Me! M-m-me!” Bill waves his hand around like a hyper child.

“Great, I’m a babysitter now,” Y/n murmurs.

She starts walking to the bathroom, Bill hot on her heels. Surprisingly enough, when she finishes peeing, he’s actually waiting for her. 

“F-f-finally. G-g-girls take so long in the buh-buh-bathroom.”

She ignores him.

“Y/nnnnn,” he slurs. “I’ve been m-m-meaning to t-t-tell you, your a-a-ass looks fantastic in th-those shorts.”

“Because that’s not a rude thing to say at all,” she replies, feeling her face burn up.

“I’m n-n-not trying to be r-rudeeee,” Bill grabs her waist and pulls her in. Y/n can smell all the alcohol on his breath, and it’s disgusting. He kisses her full on the mouth.

She shoves him off, embarrassed by his behavior. “You’re drunk.”

“If b-b-being drunk makes me w-w-want to m-make out with you, I-I-I never want t-to be so-sober.”

That hits Y/n hard. Bill Denbrough wants her. But only when he’s drunk. 

He doesn’t love her in his right mind. This is all she has, and she can’t even fathom just taking advantage of him when he’s drunk. Using someone would hurt her in such an inexplicable way, and not to mention it would tear whatever small bond she had with Bill into shreds.

She plops back down in her seat, barely touching the rest of her food or speaking for the rest of the night.

When she gets to her shared room with Bev, Y/n takes a shower. She’s always loved showers because they’re a place where you can cry without risk of anyone hearing over the water running.

And that’s exactly what Y/n does. She lets the tears stream down her face, washed away by the showerhead’s water.

*******

Bill knows he got plastered last night, so it’s no surprise when he wakes up with a pounding headache. But he isn’t sure why Y/n is so quiet, especially around him. Usually she has a remark or at least a glare for him, but she seems almost meek today.

He pulls Beverly aside at one point, and asks if he did anything to her last night.

“I don’t know, Bill. You guys went to the bathroom at the same time, and when you came back, Y/n seemed really upset.”

“L-l-like angry, or s-sad?”

“Sad. But she didn’t tell me anything that happened. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“It’s o-o-okay. Th-Thanks, Bev.”

He spends the rest of the day trying to remember something- anything- from last night. Bathrooms. Bathrooms.

There are some vignettes. Y/n across from him, in that pretty top. Watching her ass as she walked to the bathrooms. 

Oh, shit. Bill made some sort of comments about those shorts. What happened after that? He kissed her, didn’t he? But why would that make her sad?

When evening rolls around, Bill still doesn’t remember anything new. He’s the only one in the living room, not even paying attention to the TV. His friends come bounding down the stairs, all wearing sneakers and athletic outfits.

“A-a-are you g-guys going somewhere?”

“Yeah, to the new rope climbing place,” Stan replies. 

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She has vertigo, and wanted to stay here. We thought you could stay here so she’s not alone all night.”

“You d-d-didn’t th-think about asking me f-first?”

“We drew names out of a hat,” Beverly steps in. “You just weren’t around when we did it.”

“Isn’t that a l-l-little ruh-rude to Y-Y/n? One of us is g-g-going to st-stay with her instead of h-having fun?”

“No, Bill, it was the opposite!” Richie tries to save the group, much to their chagrin. “We were voting on who didn’t get to stay home with Y/n. And you won! You get to!”

“Wh-what i-if I want to donate m-my win?”

“Doesn’t work like that. Wins are final.”

It’s all BS, and Bill knows it. There never was a hat draw, everyone knows that Bill and Y/n have a lot to work out, and they don’t want the two to go back from spring break with even more animosity for each other. 

Also, they know that the two have feelings that have been expressed so wrongly over the years. Maybe now it’s time to work them out.

“So we’re going to head out now; have fun with Y/n!” Eddie waves, and they run out excitedly.

 Bill sighs, not knowing what he’s going to do with Y/n all night. Maybe she’ll just be antisocial and hide in her room all night, but he personally hopes she won’t. He decides to hang out by the pool for a while, and changes into his swim trunks.

By the time he gets outside, though, Y/n is already there. She’s hugging her knees to her chest and watching the little waterfall intently.

“Hey,” Bill says, making her jump.

“Hey.”

“C-c-can I join you?”

She nods. 

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

“B-because I w-w-won their ‘contest,’”

“Contest?” she shakes her head, not understanding.

“To b-b-babysit you, ap-apparently.”

“Ah. Sounds legitimate.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just lets the sounds of the waterfall and the faint grasshoppers fill the silence. He’s sure Y/n doesn’t mind, though. When everyone else complained about the summer grasshoppers as kids, she would always dote on how they’re melodious and comforting.

Bill can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Y/n, what d-d-did I do l-last night?”

She turns to him. “You really don’t remember?”

“I re-remember making a com-comment, which I-I’m sorry about b-by the way, th-that was an a-asshole move. And I-I remember kissing y-you. But then what?”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n continues. “Well, then I pushed you off and told you that you were drunk.”

She pauses.

“And th-then?”

“Then you said, ‘If I want to make out with you when I’m drunk, then I don’t ever want to be sober.’”

That’s it? Bill thinks. He’s not stupid enough to voice his thoughts, luckily.

“Oh, Y-Y-Y/n, I w-w-was drunk. I d-didn’t know what I w-w-was saying.”

“Listen, Bill. I know you remember what I told you yesterday in the kitchen. And what you told me at the restaurant really hurt, okay?”

“Why? I-I wanted to k-k-kiss you,” he asks, genuinely confused.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes!” Y/n laughs incredulously. “You wanted to kiss me when you were drunk, not in your right mind!”

“I al-always want to k-k-kiss you in my right mind!”

“What?!” 

“I-I think I love you, Y/n.”

She’s frozen. Could he actually mean that? Has he been drinking again? Hearing that from Bill Denbrough has been her dream since… forever.

“I think I love you too, Bill.”

He jumps up from his lounge chair, and leans over Y/n. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and kisses her tenderly, gently. Her lips are just as soft as he remembers them to be all those years ago, softer than any other girl he’s kissed.

“Wow,” she beams as they pull apart. “I guess I knew this, but you’re a much better kisser than my ex.”

He laughs. “W-why, thank you. You’re n-n-not so bad y-yourself.”

“Thanks,” she giggles. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like doing something crazy now, something outrageous.”

“L-like what?”

“Hm…” she thinks for a minute. “Do you want to go skinny dipping?”

“Okay, sure,” Bill chuckles. 

Grinning, she begins to peel off her one piece. She slips the straps off, and the rest slowly slides off her body. Her breasts are exposed first, then her stomach, then everything. Her skin is smooth and glorious.

Bill pulls off his swim trunks and throws them behind him. Y/n wants to tease him about his erection, but she’s way too shocked at his size.

They bask in the beauty of each other for a moment before they dive into the water, crisp and cool on their bare bodies. Y/n splashes Bill right in his face.

He pushes wet strands of hair from his ocean eyes. “H-how dare you?” 

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunts.

“This,” Bill says, throwing Y/n over his shoulder and taking her outside the water. She’s both screaming and laughing her head off at this point. He carries her all the way to the deep end and tosses her in. 

When she surfaces, Y/n makes sure to flip him off. 

“So r-r-rude.”

He cannonballs in, and they swim around, and eventually go under the waterfall. They end up making out and gasping for air.

“D-d-do you want to tuh-take this inside?” Bill whispers.

She nods, and they get out. As Y/n shivers, Bill gets them fluffy towels from a bin by the chairs.

Grabbing his hand, she pulls him through the sliding glass doors. They run around the house in nothing but towels, giggling and kissing and dripping pool water everywhere. The two finally make it to Bill’s room and go directly to the bed (after locking the door).

“Spruh-spread your legs,” Bill breathes in her ear, sending goosebumps up and down her body. 

She obeys and lets him kiss her knees, her thighs, and eventually her core. He pleases Y/n in a way her old boyfriend never did.

When she finishes, Bill holds her for a minute so she can catch her breath. Then, when he turns around to put on a condom, she moves against the wall.

“Oh, s-s-so you w-want wall sex n-now?” Bill raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Instead of using words, Bill throws Y/n up against the wall and kisses her roughly. Their tongues clash, and she loves every second of it. Then he goes in. He starts slow at first, but begins to pick up the pace with her approval.

“D-damn, you’re so t-t-tight,” he whispers while she keeps muttering his name.

“Probably because I wasn’t with someone as big as you before.”

Hearing that makes him turn redder than his hair. “Really?”

“Really,” she sighs. “Can you go a little slower?”

He listens to her, and almost screams in pleasure when she starts to suck on his neck.

They both finish in a couple minutes, and are pretty burned out- Y/n especially because she’s never made such rough love before.

She lies in his arms, back on the bed, and traces the love mark forming on his neck.

“I think I love you,” Y/n says for the second time tonight. 

“I-I th-think I love you t-too.”

They can’t help smiling for the umpteenth time in the past hour. Their stars had never aligned until now, and it couldn’t be a more perfect exchange of love. The wait was unbearable, but incredibly worth it. 

Y/n and Bill make each other feel whole, like there was a sort of void within each other, unfilled until now. 

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice is soft and gentle. “I’m so sorry about these past years. You know I have trust issues, but I took them too far and didn’t treat you right. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m s-sorry, too. I’ve been an ass-asshole to y-y-you, a-and it’s m-m-my fault we broke uh-up in the f-first place.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/n frowns. “It was Evil Autumn’s fault.”

They chuckle. 

Resting her head on Bill’s chest, Y/n asks the dreaded question. 

“So what’s going to become of us? After spring break.”

Bill thinks for a minute, stroking her hair, and admits, “I don’t w-w-want us to c-c-cut each other off again.”

“Neither do I.”

“I think our sc-sc-schools are like t-t-two hours ap-apart; that’s n-not terrible.”

“It’s not,” Y/n agrees. “Maybe we could take turns driving every weekend, and find a halfway point or something.”

“A-an ex-exact halfway point,” Bill adds.

“An exact halfway point.”

They can make it work, they’ve got to. Both Bill and Y/n are extremely optimistic about the future ahead, now that every feeling has been sorted out between them. And even in the unfavorable event where things don’t work out, there will always be Palm Springs. 

Bill presses a kiss to her forehead. There’s not a chance that they won’t make it. The timing is finally, after all these years, perfect. 

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {3}

Series Masterlist

A/N: So for my purposes, I’ve decided to age Jake up to 18. It works better for me, rather than the younger by two years. I am not a licensed therapist, so take that portrayal with a grain of salt. This is a Renèe slander account. I also hated the bikes, or at least her reasoning for the bikes, so I removed the bikes. So basically please just accept that this fic is 99.9% OOC.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment, Therapy Session

Summary: Bella’s first therapy session, family dinner at the Black’s.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,905

Monday came faster than I had expected. School was better, Jessica and I made plans to get through Calculus tomorrow after school, not without her making a welcome back from zombieland comment, which I couldn’t blame her for. Dad picked me up in the cruiser for the appointment with Dr. Gilbert. The drive to Port Angeles was a silent hour, I pondered what I was going to say to this therapist. Obviously, my ex-boyfriend was a vampire and I almost died due to an unhinged vampire hunting me and luring me into an old dance studio wasn’t the best opening line. I almost died on my eighteenth birthday due to a paper cut, maybe I should just stick away from the near death experiences. Mentioning vampires would probably award me a decent vacation and a straight jacket.

Dad checked me in at the office and we sat awkwardly in the waiting room. He picked up a fishing magazine and I picked at my nails. I was torn from contemplating my nail beds when the secretary called my name. I followed her into a room with a large couch, a woman sat in a chair across from it.

“Hello Bella, I’m Dr. Gilbert.” She was tall, her dark hair was tucked up into a bun. Black glasses were perched on her nose. She had a nice smile, kind, welcoming.

“Hi.” I mumbled as she gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“Tell me about yourself, Bella.” Dr. Gilbert stated, clipboard balanced on her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I don’t know, there’s not much to tell.” I murmured, crossing my legs under me on the couch. I pulled my sweater around my body, I was cold again. I probably could have started with my childhood, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you start therapy. Tell them all about your childhood, blame it on your mom…. Which, maybe wasn’t too far off.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I see you’re a senior, what are your plans after you graduate this year?”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I had a plan, but that’s changed. I think maybe college, or a gap year to save. I think I want to go to college.”

She nodded and scribbled on her paper. “What do you think you’d like to do?”

I chuckled, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to not have a plan, Bella.”

“I know, but everyone around me has a plan, colleges they’ve been accepted to. And I’m just…..” I gestured vaguely into the air.

Dr. Gilbert chuckled, “Sometimes those with the plans aren’t as put together as they seem. When I was your age, I was going to be a professional cellist. Got into Juliard and was ready. I got there, and realized that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I still play the cello, I’m a part of the local orchestra, but I’m not doing what I had planned. You have time. Tell me about your friends.”

I hesitated. “I have a few, we haven’t hung out as much, I…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain that I had been an emotionless blob for months and wasn’t sure where I stood with my friends.

She hummed, “They’ve been too busy?”

I chuckled, “They’ve been busy, I’ve been dealing with some stuff.”

“Care to elaborate?” She raised one of her sculpted eyebrows.

I sighed and pulled my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“Tell me about him.” She stated.

“He would come through my window and watch me sleep.” I murmured. “He oiled the latch so it wouldn’t wake me. God, I thought it was romantic, he could have killed me. He could have done anything he wanted. And I would have let him. I let him control me.” The scratching of a pen on paper filled the moment I took a breath. “I thought that love meant he was allowed to control me, but that’s not love, is it?”

Dr. Gilbert looked at me. “I think you know the answer.” She paused, pursing her lips.

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Why didn’t I know?”

She glanced at me. “He was your first boyfriend, right?” I nodded. “First loves are intense.” Her eyes wandered away from me. “You’re allowed to have strong feelings after something like this.”

“Is it normal to feel like you’re stuck in a void, just lost to the pain?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Dr. Gilbert eyed me carefully. “There are several stages to grief, it sounds like you have begun the depression stage. But the stages aren’t always a linear progression, you can shift between them and go back and forth.” She was jotting things down on her paper. “How long have you felt lost to the pain?”

“A few months, five maybe?” I said quietly.

“That’s a long time to feel that way.” She glanced at her watch. “Do you feel that way now?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I just got out of the middle of it and I’ve started to come back to the real world.”

She nodded. “I want to you pay attention to what you do this week, if anything sets you back to this. That way we can find out what triggers this.” She sighed, “Unfortunately, that is time up, I’d like to see you next week at the same time, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that should work, I can check with my dad.” I said.

“It was nice to meet you, Bella.” She said, standing. I stood up and shook her outstretched hand.

“So how was it?” Dad asked as he started the cruiser.

“Good, I like her.” I answered, giving him a small smile. He glanced over to me, a curious look on his face, I tilted my head. “I think this is going to help.”

“Good.” He paused before pulling out of the parking lot. “Billy invited us over for dinner on Friday.”

My head snapped to him. “Billy?” The last time Billy Black had interacted with me, he had warned me away from Edward, hindsight, he was right. He had bribed Jacob to come to prom and warn me off the Cullens.

“Yeah, says he misses me.” Dad chuckled. “I think it’s a ploy to get me to go fishing again.”

I let out a small laugh. “Will Jacob be there?”

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Probably, why do you want to know?”

I shrugged, “Haven’t seen him since I bought the truck, thought he might be able to help with the radio.” That sentence did not sound as nonchalant as I had been hoping.

A twinkle was in Dad’s eye. “I think he could help with…your radio.”

I groaned and hid my head in my arms. “Dad…” I whined.

Dad let out a loud laugh, “Sorry.” He most definitely was not.

The next day at school was uneventful, that was until after school tutoring with Jessica. She flopped into the chair next to me, a scowl on her face.

“Hey, Jess.” I greeted.

“Hi, sorry. Fucking Mike.” She grumbled, apparently in my zombie state I had missed the constant on and off again relationship she and Mike had been navigating. According to Angela, I hadn’t missed much, all you could do was watch like a weekly soap opera. “So, let’s get to this.”

Jess was extremely patient, considering how many questions I asked, about concepts that we probably learned at the beginning of the year. By the time our hour was up, I felt like I could muddle through the homework, rather than just stare and hope the pages filled themselves. “Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate your help.”

She smiled, “No problem, just don’t slip off into Zombie Bella, she’s not cool. Same time next week?”

“If you can.” I answered.

“See you tomorrow and Tuesdays for calculus.” She paused before she left. “And, if you ever need to talk about it. Ange and I are here. She doesn’t have much experience with this end of things, but she’s a good listener.”

“Thanks, maybe sometime.” She gave me a knowing look before giving me a quick wave and leaving. The rest of the week I settled back in with the group who had been my first friends when I stated in at Forks High. Sure, Lauren and I were never going to be best friends, but I had friends again. And these friends weren’t going to accidentally eat me.

Friday came and Dad let me drive the truck to La Push, he crawled into the passenger seat, eyes falling on the radio. His eyebrows almost hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything about it. The drive was quiet, with the occasional direction or turn from Dad. I parked in front of the Black’s home, it was a small red home, it was familiar. I knew that I had spent time here when I was younger, but that was so long ago, the memories had faded. A dark head of hair popped up behind a window and the door to the house flew open.

“Bella!” Jacob called, he was taller than I last saw him, broader too. His black hair was loose around his face, his eyes bright with a huge smile beaming on his face. He was like sunshine personified.

Dad opened the door. “Yeah, Jake, good to see you too.” He muttered, walking into the house without even glancing back at us.

Jacob smiled as he got to my door. “Dad said Charlie had been saying something about your radio…” His eyes traveled to the beat up mess in my dashboard.

“I didn’t like the song…” I offered.

His eyes were wide as I stepped out. “Care to let me know the song, so I don’t play it by accident?”

“I don’t know, it was on a station that I don’t listen to anymore.” I replied, jumping down from the truck to the ground. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “How did you get taller?”

“Maybe you shrunk.” He teased, nodding to the doorway. “We better get in there, before those two start planning our wedding.” At my shocked face he paused. “C’mon Bella, you can’t tell me that you didn’t know those two in there have been trying to find ways to get us together since the first summer you were here.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t known.”

Jacob eyed my curiously, “Really? You never noticed how much Charlie brought you down here?”

I shook my head again, following him into the house. When we entered, both of our fathers were seated in the kitchen, eagerly watching the door. “Hey, Billy.” I greeted awkwardly.

A smile split his face. “It is great to see you again, Bella. You look well.” There was a glint in his eye as he looked at me, I knew there was more to that statement, the lack of a vampire boyfriend for one.

“I’m doing my best.” I shrugged, taking the seat to the right of Dad, leaving the only seat open for Jacob, directly across from me.

“So Jake, what do you think the damage on Bella’s radio is?” Dad asked, spooning food onto his plate.

Jacob’s eyes flicked over to me. “I’m thinking she’s going to need a new one Charlie.”

I sighed, “Or I could just go without music, not a big deal.”

Billy’s eyes were on me again. I felt like I was under a microscope. “The current music that is released is shit anyways, can’t blame you for losing it on the radio.”

I chuckled, dinner was, different. It felt so familiar, but I know the last time I had dinner at the Blacks, Jacob and I were at an age of single digits. It was odd, us being just a few months shy of the other. Last year, his seventeen had seemed so far from my seventeen, he still had his baby face. But now, he had just reached eighteen and he had changed. He was more angular, bigger, more muscle, and impossibly taller.

“Bella?” A voice interrupted me, I glanced over to see Jacob across from me, his head tilted. “Earth to Bells?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I answered, “What did you need?”

“Just was asking if you wanted me to check out your radio? Maybe fully remove it from the dash?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He smiled, “Let’s go, leave these two alone. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

I giggled, actually giggled, and followed him out of the house, trying to ignore the gleeful look in our fathers’ eyes. Jake stopped by my truck.

“I’m gonna have to rip that out, there’s no saving it. You really did a number on it.” He said, shaking his head at it. “That was a nice radio.”

I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, I kinda lost it.”

He remained silent, glancing back toward the house. “Want to pull this in the garage and I can get the remains out so we can put the radio to rest?”

“Sure.” I said, hopping into the truck. Jake started walking through the yard and I followed him. The garage was behind the house, small, but hidden by trees and shrubbery, I doubt you could see much of it from the house. Which, if what Jacob had said about our fathers was true, was probably a good thing. I pulled up next to it as he came out with a small toolbox. Jake hopped into the passenger seat of the truck, lifted the toolbox lid and took out an assortment of screwdrivers.

He started in on the radio, removing screws with sure fingers until it loosened and he ripped it out. An empty hole was left in my dash, seemed poetic. “That should do it, if you have another I can install it.”

“I’m not sure I really like music right now, need a little break from it.” I said.

Jake nodded. “So how’s she been treating you?”

A smile broke across my face. “Great, I love this old truck. She takes good care of me.”

“She’s a hunk of junk.” Jake retorted.

“She is my hunk of junk. Now be nice before I banish you.”

“You could try.” Jake challenged. I narrowed my eyes at him and bumped my shoulder against his. He fell against the door in mock injury before a fit of laughter overtook him.

“Don’t fuck with my truck.” I snapped, laughing.

He held his hands up in defeat. “Point taken, want to meet my baby?” I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “C’mon, not every day I get to introduce her to a pretty girl.”

I felt the blush beginning to crawl up my neck as he jumped out of my truck. I shook my head and followed after him into the garage. A red car was propped up on cinderblocks, I recognized the Volkswagen insignia on the hood.

“1986 Volkswagen Rabbit.” Jake said proudly. “Almost finished, needs a few tweaks, then she’ll be perfect.”

“How long have you been working on her?” I asked, taking a circle around the car.

“Couple years now, Dad just got me the final parts I needed last spring. All that’s really left is cosmetic.” Jacob smiled. “She’s my college car. Figure I can run her back and forth while I go up to Peninsula.”

“What are you thinking of studying?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The smile on his face seemed to grow impossibly brighter. “I’m looking into their history track. With that degree I want to work to preserve the history here.” He gestured vaguely. “There’s so much that has been lost that I’d like to preserve what I can for future generations. The Elders aren’t getting any younger.”

I took a moment to truly look at Jacob. He looked so determined, passionate, alive. I felt a pang in my chest. “That sounds amazing.”

He chuckled and looked down, not before I saw a blush in his cheeks. “It’s not much. What about you?”

I chewed on my lip. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t even applied to schools yet.”

“I could help you, apply if you want. Peninsula’s was easy enough.” Jake said, before he started stuttering over his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a little help. I think Dad has been a little worried that I haven’t applied anywhere. And Peninsula doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we could carpool?”

A small smile was on his lips, “Yeah, maybe.”

“They have a decent education program, from what I’ve heard.” Jacob supplied.

“Education?” I asked.

He chuckled, “When we were little you always talked about being a teacher like your mom. Obviously time changes things. I was convinced I was going to be a superhero.” He smirked. “But it’s a starting point.”

I nodded, then heard laughter coming from the direction of the house.

“Time to go home Bella!” Dad’s voice called out, I could hear him chortling with Billy.

Jake and I rolled our eyes in sync. “Well, it was nice catching up, thanks for the help with the radio.” I said, holding my hand out awkwardly.

Jacob’s hand encased mine as he shook it, “Don’t be a stranger, Bells.” He smiled. “Now let’s go before those two get any ideas.

[penaltbox]

your side of the bed - roman ahcan

feedback & reblogs are always so appreciated!! if you like it, let me know your favorite line or part 😊

word count: 3k

__

You glance up from your phone, seeing the tv show playing far later at night than you needed to be awake, but not remembering a single thing that had happened during that episode or any prior. You glance over to your left and see the back of someone who had been there plenty of times now but who you still weren’t used to. 

Technically speaking he was your boyfriend. He did everything you asked, went out of his way to be sweet to you, and his mom thought the world of you. From the outside looking in you had it all and you felt like you owed him for all the good things he did for you, but something always felt missing. Something was always off. He didn’t feel like home the way Roman had. 

__

You think about the night everything fell apart more frequently than you wanted to admit. The two of you didn’t always get along but you didn’t fight every time you were together either. You were quick to butt heads on some things, but being together always had a spark that you knew you’d be chasing your whole life. 

You were out with Ro and his friends one night, trying to wind down after a long week and two tough games on their end. You’d been a little irritated that day, but you didn’t think you were super crabby. He had other thoughts though and made them known. 

“If you’re gonna have an attitude all night just go home. I don’t want to deal with it,” he says, shaking his head after you glare at some girl who had come to try and talk to the boys. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask, not realizing your face had betrayed your thoughts that way. 

He laughs a little, but there’s no humor behind it, “don’t act better than her just because you hang out with my friends now. You used to be in her position not that long ago.”

“I didn’t even do anything. What’s your problem?” You ask, your temper flaring a tad over his accusations. 

“Oh don't start with that. Why do you always have to pick a fight when I put you in your place?” He says, quickly backing you against the wall so he can keep the inevitable argument between you two. 

You lean back against it and glare up at him, knowing this tactic well. It wasn’t your first fight at the bar and sometimes you both lost your temper so he’d started corralling you to try and keep things calm. It worked sometimes, when he didn’t talk down to you like he was now, but other times the boys still picked up on the problems that would arise as your voices got louder and would usually have to intervene. 

“I’m not picking the fight. You started this!” You poke his chest, knowing it would start him up. 

He takes a deep breath before he mumbles through his teeth, “don’t fucking poke me like that.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Roman?”

“I’m gonna tell you to shut the fuck up and check your attitude. Why are you so goddamn crabby tonight?” He asks, his voice raising a little already. 

“I wasn’t crabby but if you keep being a dick and telling me what you think I am, it’ll change really fast,” you roll your eyes and try to push him out of your way. 

“I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’m not your babysitter,” he scoffs, but puts his hands on the wall on either side of you to keep you in front of him. 

You clench your jaw then, hating that he was pushing you around in public, “let me go. I wasn’t in a bad mood until you started being an ass and telling me I was. You won’t stand here and act like you’ve got all this power over me because you can hold me in place.”

He smirks then, like this is some game, “you never seem to complain when I hold you in place in bed.”

Your patience has worn out and his comment is ill-timed. You push his arm down and step around him, determined to go back to your drink and talk with people like you had been before he decided to unnecessarily give you a hard time. 

“I’m sick of you treating me like a little kid when we fight,” you say, looking over your shoulder at him, “why can’t you just be fucking nice to me?”

“Are you kidding me?” He asks louder than you expect, but he’s quick to glance around. A couple of the boys look over and you know you’re being watched after that outburst, “I am nice to you and it’s not fair for you to try and say that. I’m just trying to make sure everyone has a good time tonight by checking your attitude early.”

You feel your jaw tense again and you somehow cool your tone down as you explain, “I’m not a child, Roman, and I would really appreciate it if you let me be my own person rather than making sure I fit into your little group here. If you want someone that just does what you say then I’m not the girl for you.” 

Roman’s jaw drops a little at how even your tone is and how serious you sound. He’s quickly stuttering, trying to spit out an apology but you’re quicker than him. 

“I’m fucking done. I can’t deal with the bullshit that comes with you and this team anymore,” you say, a statement that would end up being so untrue but you had no clue then, “We’re done.”

You weren’t sure exactly what you expected, but suddenly Roman straightens up and shrugs his shoulders. You frown a little at the action and he seems to finally know what he wants to say. 

“Fine, go then but don’t talk to us anymore either. This isn’t your group to be friends with,” he says, his tone cold and unfamiliar. 

You glance around at the boys you’d become close with, the ones who you’d spent so much time with over the last half a year, and especially the ones you really liked. You swallow hard but know you have to play it like this doesn’t hurt. But it really fucking does. 

You look back at Roman and give him a little nod before turning and brushing past Owen who calls your name softly. You can’t look at him, your composure wavering at the sound of your name coming from him, but you swear you hear him yell something at Roman as you stay on your path out of there. 

You make your way out of the door, spilling out onto the sidewalk of Lake Street. You have to take a couple deep breaths as you try to stop the tears from falling but it doesn’t work. You turn and head towards your apartment, not having any patience to wait for an Uber. You hardly make the turn onto State Street when you hear your name called. 

This had to be a sick joke. He embarrassed you like that in front of so many people and now he wanted to chase you down and make amends? You feel the sadness start to quickly switch over to anger as you quickly turn towards the voice, tears still burning down your face. 

“What do you want?” You spit out, but you gasp right after, “Mike, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

He gives you a little smile as his hand scratches the back of his neck, “he shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t argue in public with you just because he thinks you were in a mood. It just makes problems for everyone.”

“Oh,” you mumble as you wipe at the tear tracks, surprised by the closest thing you’ll get to an apology for the situation, “thank you?”

Mike blushes a little and gestures randomly towards the street, “I didn’t want you to have to walk home alone either. That’s not safe.”

“You coming with me then, Vorlicky? Am I the chaperone here or is that you?” You joke, finally smiling a little. 

“Hey now,” he laughs, walking past you down the road, “you coming with, pretty, or are you just gonna cry in the street all night?” 

It’s your turn to blush then as your stomach flutters a little. You duck your head to try and hide your smile, but you quickly match his pace. It had been a long time since you flirted the way you and Mike did that night. It was light and the banter came easily. He’s good at getting your mind off the issue at hand and before you know it the late hours turn into early morning and you let him crash on your couch eventually.  

When you didn’t hear from Roman for the next week, you figured he really was over it. You’re heartbroken and you hate that it ended the way it did. You had so many questions and problems with him just giving up on you two, but Mike provided a pretty good distraction that you didn’t expect to have. 

—

You knew Roman’s friends hated you. How could they not? You had broken up with one boy and then pursued another on the team. They didn’t say anything out loud but you saw the looks you got from his group whenever you were all in the same place. 

You never brought it up though. You opted to stay quiet and take on a different approach than the first time. You didn’t get drunk around them anymore or argue loudly, even when you had an opinion on something. You kept to yourself unless one of them asked you something and you always deferred to Mike when a decision needed to be made. 

You hated every minute of it. You were a shell of what you used to be but you had yourself convinced if you just got through school then things would turn out okay eventually. You wouldn’t have to see the team anymore and you wouldn’t have the reminder of the one you’d lost staring you in the face every time you wanted to see your new boy. If he even lasted that long. 

It wasn’t like Roman was completely gone though. It wasn’t just seeing him with the guys that happened every now and then; no, there was more than that. There was still this odd level of contact that was happening and it was on purpose from you, but you weren’t sure about him. Every Instagram story was checked by one another, always being one of the first few to watch it. Neither of you had unfollowed the other on anything and you refused to take down any pictures from vsco. That didn’t set extremely well with Mike but he never said too much on it either. You couldn’t quite let go of him even though you technically had someone new. 

You stare at your bed one Saturday, silently thinking about all the nights Roman has been taking up the space, and some of yours as well. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you tried harder to get him back. When you look back on things you know he deserved an apology, too. You’d gotten a little out of hand and let your temper run the show. Not once did you take a step back and tell yourself to calm down for a second rather than escalating the situation. 

You know you could have done things differently but you didn’t and now you had what you had. You were stuck home on a weekend but you were more than okay to have the place to yourself for once and you were soaking in the quiet. 

You would finally get to sleep alone that night, the boys having plans to go out and you definitely didn’t get those invites anymore. As you get changed, you swap his shirt out for one of Roman’s to wear to bed that night. You know you should have gotten rid of it when you broke up but you just couldn’t do it. You knew it wasn’t right, but you stored it in the back of a drawer and only pulled it out when you knew Mike wouldn’t be around. 

You slip into bed, mind racing all over again. It was quickly nearing 2:00 in the morning and yet you couldn’t seem to slow down. You realize you’re laying on his side of the bed and you pull an extra pillow closer, hugging it tight. Your heart strings tug a little as you remember how much he used to beg to be the little spoon. You never denied it, but you did pick on him just a bit for it. 

—

“You’re too big for this,” you giggle, but do your best to wrap your arms around him. 

“No, it works! I promise,” he says, his laugh easily filling the quietness of the room with a sound you loved to hear. 

He scoots down the bed a little and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting your leg up over his hip. He finally gets comfortable and lets out a sigh as your fingers begin to run through his hair, gently massaging his head every few swipes. 

“I love that you always do this,” you admit quietly, barely above a whisper. 

He hums and keeps himself squished against you, “I’m glad you still let me. Don’t tell the boys.”

“And risk you not doing this anymore?” You ask, “not a chance.”

—

You never did tell any of the boys about it and you never would. It was too intimate of a moment, only a memory to you now, for other people to know about it. It was also something you didn’t have with Mike and you weren’t sure you ever wanted him to try. He didn’t ask for it or pull you close and bury his head in your chest like Roman would. He liked to have his hair played with but everyone pretty much does so you never saw it as a big deal. 

Sometimes you really missed having a big tough hockey player all curled up and needing some extra attention, especially once it got dark outside and you were left alone with your thoughts of how things used to be. 

You know you’re not about to fall asleep so you do what you’d been doing for the last couple months since things ended: Post a story and see what Roman would do about it. He would be the only one who would know you weren’t on your side of the bed and you wondered if he even remembered or not anymore. 

It’s a simple picture, one that someone else would glance over in an instant. The soft glow from the string lights over your bed showed the side you were on and a little slip of red fabric - his shirt - with your tv on in the background. You put a little ‘no sleep’ comment with a crying emoji and shrink it, placing it right above the spot where you can see the shirt. 

It’s all so subtle that you’re not sure he’ll even realize it but you have this feeling that you need to just post it. Your heart is hammering for some reason as you tap through the screens, posting it to your story and then making sure it uploads right away. 2:03am is what your phone tells you and you sigh, swallowing at the lump that formed suddenly from your next thought. He probably had someone else keeping his attention. They were out at the bar and some new girl probably was getting that signature smirk from him instead of you. He didn’t need to check on you anymore. 

You lay back down and get comfy all over again, still holding the pillow close like it would somehow make things feel better and make the tugging feeling in your heart go away one of these days. Your mind wanders to the last time he was in your bed and you have to shake your thoughts. 

He was gone. He wasn’t yours to miss anymore. Why couldn’t you just accept that and move on?

You feel your eyes finally getting heavy as you do anything you can to think about something, anything else but him. You’re about to doze off when your phone vibrates in your hand. You frown and lift it up, heart stopping when you see what the notification is on the screen. 

‘roman_ahcan3 sent you a message.’

You read it over and over, trying to see if you’re imagining things, but you’re not. You open your phone to pull up the message as quickly as the page will load and you’d be lying if you said the contents of it didn’t take your breath away. 

‘That’s not your side of the bed’

You have to pull yourself together and read it again. He noticed. He had taken the time to watch your story, look at it, and then send you a message. You can’t believe this played out the way you’d wanted it to.

But why now? Why did he choose this story to respond to? There had been plenty of other chances to say something or make a comment. This wasn’t the one you expected to get a reaction from. 

‘No, it’s yours’ 

It’s bold and feels too forward. You regret it immediately and consider unsending it but he reads it almost as quickly as you send it. You’re panicking now because you’re sure he’s about to tell you to knock it off or that you can’t say that anymore. But he doesn’t. 

‘Is it really mine though? Still?’

You know your response as soon as you read his questions and you type it out faster than you can even process it. Every word is honest and you know you mean what you’re saying. 

‘If you come back it is.’

[justauthoring]

even after it all.

Request: I’m such a slut for Until Dawn, so you’re crazy if you think I won’t jump on the opportunity to get more Until Dawn stuff and from my favorite fanfic writer. I’d love a Josh Washington fic where the reader (his gf) finds out that he’s been behind everything and goes out with Chris and Mike to the shed to stand up for him because she knows they’ll be hard on him and she knows he just needs help and better meds. Thank you!

Requested by: @itsfangirlmendes​

Pairing: Josh Washington x Reader Word Count: 2,019 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Surely, you were imagining this...

right?

You eye both Chris and Ashley, who are both still tied to the chairs, to Mike and Sam who both work quickly to untie the former’s. But you can see the looks on their faces. The anger on Ashley and Mike’s, the absolute disgust and dismay, and the complete confusion on Sam and Chris’ face. An expression, unlike the others, you mimic because you’re just as confused. Maybe even more so.

You’re positive you are just dreaming. Or someone was playing some sort of prank on you. Because... this? Josh being the one behind all of this? It... This can’t be real.

“Josh...”

Your call for him isn’t heard over the yells of the others. Nor is it heard over the maniacal laughing that pours from Josh’s lips as he circles around, pacing on his feet aimlessly with the brightest smile upon his lips you’re sure you’ve ever seen in a long time. And it hurts, because since his sisters, you’ve never left his side, never once abandoned him or made him feel guilty about needing his support. You were just there for him, whenever he needed you. And you’d tried to make him smile like that, like he used to, for months, but nothing ever worked.

Except, apparently, this.

“Oh, oh, very good!” He applauds, circling past you. You find yourself slipping to the back, unable to believe the sight before you. And honestly, it doesn’t even really hurt you that Josh doesn’t acknowledge your presence. “Every one of you. Got my name! And after all you’ve been through. Good-good-good-good! I mean how does that feel?”

You catch Mike’s gaze, your own distraught, tearful gaze meeting his harsh, frustrated expression. You want to defend Josh, but you can’t. Not in this scenario. So as you look at Mike, you can’t blame him for being so angry, only managing to avoid his gaze you glance down at your feet, your hand falling to your cheek where -- who you’d originally thought was the psycho -- had hit you.

“Right? How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel a year ago! Only guess what? They didn’t get to laugh it off? No! Nope! No! No! They’re gone!”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Mike speaks up for the first time, gesturing around himself. “Josh, but none of us are laughing.”

“Oh come! Come-come-come-come! Why the long faces? Come on!” 

Your heart sinks, entire body tensing when Josh makes his way over to you. You don’t have the heart or strength to shrug away from him as he pulls you close, wrapping his arm tightly around like he always has but this time, it feels different. For obvious reasons why. And your heart both hurts and pounds madly against your chest in fear. Which feels so incredibly wrong because he’s your boyfriend and you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

“It’s good to get the heart racing every now and then, right?” You cringe, trying to pull away as he pulls you closer, eyes twisting shut. “And race they did, I mean, every one of you, just pitter-pat, pitter-pat! I hope you appreciated my little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small. No opportunity missed. It was such a delight to play the puppet master to all your Pavlovian panic! And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore-galore! Fake bodies... I mean, god that shit was expensive. And no retakes. Nope. Nope. Only double takes. You should’ve seen your faces.

“Hook line and sinker, for every little stinker!”

“Josh,” Sam calls, desperate, “why are you doing this?”

“Don’t even ask this squirrelly little runt. He’s got no clue. He’s out of his fucking tree.” You blink when Mike makes his way over to you and Josh, slipping his hand gently around your arm and pulling you from Josh’s grasp. You notice the look of distraught and surprise on Josh’s face but don’t do anything about it, glad to be out of his grasp. “I mean, you hit your own fucking girlfriend. What the fuck, man.”

You meet Josh’s eyes, and you know he’s eyeing the bruised spot on your cheek.

“Well, he’s definitely off his meds.” Chris concludes.

“Aw, come on, you guys,” Josh calls, as if surprised by your none-too-impressed response. “Revenge is the best medicine.”

But I didn’t even prank Hannah. I... I tried to stop them. I tried to help her...

“You’re done!” Mike demands, shaking his head.

“Mike,” you call softly, shaking your head. “He’s sick.”

“What?” Josh mumbles, “come on, you guys are all gonna thank me when you become internet sensations!”

“Wa-Wait, what?”

“Oh you better believe this is little puppy going viral ladies and germs.” Josh exclaims, an excited glint to his eyes. “I mean... we got, we got unrequited love. We got... we got blood! I don’t think there’s enough hard drives in China to-to count all the views we’re gonna get, you guys.”

“What are you talking about, you ass-hat?” Mike demands. “Jessica is FUCKING DEAD!”

Maybe it’s wrong of you, maybe it’s biased, especially after all he’s done, but as you glance over at Josh, something tells you he’s genuinely surprised. Genuinely upset. That what Mike just said, he hadn’t had any part of it.

“What?”

“Did you hear him?” Mike asks, circling around the table to quickly make his way over to Josh. Jessica is dead and you are gonna fucking pay you dick!”

-

“You only see what you wanna see. You’re blind!”

With great reluctance, you’d managed to convince Chris and Mike to let you come with them to tie Josh up. They tried to convince you to stay back with the other girls, that it would be safer for you. But, even after all he done, to you and the others, you still cared for Josh. And you weren’t about to just leave him. Not now, when he was clearly so sick.

“Stop talking!” 

You wince as Mike shoves Josh to the ground, pulling unceremoniously on his tied wrists and he presses him against the snowy ground. “You are-- argh!”

“Dude--” Chris calls out.

“It’s not my fault you suckers can’t take a joke.”

“That wasn’t a joke, Josh,” you mumble, thought you’re not sure if he even really hears you.

Mike presses his knee into Josh’s back, eliciting a small yelp from the latter’s lips. “Oh, did I hurt you?” Mike taunts, still pointing the gun at his head. “Did you just... did you feel a little bit of pain? Right now? I am so... so, so sorry!”

“Stop it!”

Rushing forward, you grab Mike by the arm, pulling. It only knocks him back a little bit, and he turns to stare at you in disbelief. “Y/N, what are--”

“I understand you’re mad and hurt but... just please,” you whisper, “stop.”

“Y/N, he killed Jessica,” Mike explains, eyes lighting with anger at the memory. You frown as he explains, your chest twisting in guilt though you’re not exactly sure why. You didn’t do anything. You weren’t at fault. But yet, you still felt guilty. And even more so, you still felt the need to defend your boyfriend. “I mean, he fucking punching you in the face. Aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I am,” you explain, shaking your head as you scarcely avoid Josh’s gaze. “Just... just tie him up and stop. Please.”

You step back and Mike’s eyes wander on you for a moment longer before complying, standing up to help pull Josh against the nearest poll. Of course, Josh decides to speak. “Michael... man, i’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that something happened to Jessica but I swear, I swear to you I have no idea what happened to her...”

“Josh?” Chris calls, “be honest with me. Do you expect us to trust you for a single goddamn second after all the shit you put us through?”

Letting out a low chuckle, Josh head rolls as he mumbles out; “can’t we all just get along?”

-

Mike tried to convince you to go back with Chris. But, like before, you refused.

So, now, here you were, sat in front of Josh, not really sure what to say. Mike was stood by the entrance of the cabin, keeping his distance out of respect but you could feel his eyes wander over to you every few minutes just to make sure you were okay even if Josh’s hands were tied. You didn’t blame his mistrust of Josh, and part of you would like to say that Josh would never hurt you but after everything that’s happened... you weren’t so sure anymore.

He already had, first off. But Josh was also so far gone that you’ve never seen him this bad before. It was a sight you’ve never wanted to see either. And a sight you’d worked so hard to help prevent. All those months, those long nights you’d spent with him, trying to make him better. You wouldn’t change anything and you’d do it all again, you just thought... you thought if he’d gotten this bad he would come to you.

Instead of... this.

“Y/N.” Eyes falling shut at the sound of Josh’s voice, you hesitate on glancing up at him, heart pounding madly against your chest. “Y/N/N.”

Blinking, you glance up at him with a huff, shaking your head. “What, Josh?”

“Are you mad at me?”

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d really just asked that. But then you take in the dazed expression on his face, the distant look in his eyes, and all you’ve heard. Standing there and listening as he made fun of his own best friend, teased him about Ashley after all he’d forced Chris and her to endure. Or to talk about Jessica like that, not only in front of you, but to Mike when she was... dead.

He was so clearly gone, you knew he didn’t really understand the severity of what he was doing.

Because the Josh you knew, the one you’d fallen in love with, wasn’t like this. And he never would’ve done this to his own friends if he was in the right state of mind.

That, you knew.

“No,” you sigh, “no, Josh, i’m not mad.”

He frowns, eyes drooping. “You look mad.”

Inhaling deeply, you let your head drop, the tip of your head resting on his forehead. “What have you done, Josh?” You whisper, voice faint, raspy. “You went too far.”

Josh doesn’t say anything. And after a moment, you dare to glance up at him, finding that he hadn’t looked away from you and instead, was just frowning down at you. The sight of it breaks your heart, even if you feel like it shouldn’t. You felt conflicted, stuck, because he’d done so many horrible things and said some too, but yet, as you looked at him; this broken-hearted, out-of-his-mind boy that you loved, your heart broke for him.

“It’ll be okay, Josh.” You soothe softly, even if you know it won’t. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nods and his lips part to speak, but the sound of a shrill scream echoes. It causes you to jump to your feet, spinning round to face Mike who quickly makes his way over to you. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike shakes his head. “It sounded like it came from the lodge.”

You eye Mike, frowning.

“We’ve gotta to check on everyone.”

Glancing back at Josh, you shake your head. “I can’t leave him.”

“Y/N--”

“You go,” you encourage, nodding at him. “I’ll be okay.”

Mike hesitates, his eyes narrowing in concern as he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s not safe for you--”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure, cutting him off as you send him a sharp look. “I just can’t leave him, Mike. I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Mike’s shoulders fall. “Even after all he’s done?”

Glancing back at Josh, you sigh, shoulders falling.

“Even after all he’s done.”

-

Let me know what you thought?