#the bleeps could barely keep up

[tani-b-art]

👀Ava is NASTY!!!! Oh my!

I.am.Shooketh! Woah and wow!

I knew it! I knew it!!!

Ava been making O’Shon work hard for it to be so simple!

O’Shon: You want to go on a date with me?

Ava: Yes.

O’Shon is about to turn Ava’s world upside down — in the best way because he is sooo different from what she’s used to! He knew from the beginning that his simple, slow burn ways was what she wanted! He’s been observing her that well that he read her like a book. It was pretty much: Yeah, just let me earn the date with you. I know what I’m doing.

The man is good!

(ava didn’t even want the ice breaker stages! o’shon is so sweet—he actually did ‘get to know her’ with his texting and did his own thing and was himself in asking her out!)

“I want to talk about what you’re gonna do to me.” (gulps)

[katyawriteswhump]

love and other catastrophes at the omega cafe (1/8)

So I posted about this idea before here, (and was overwhelmed by the response—thank you!) but basically a cat café opened near me and inspired this:

Summary: Steve is a runaway Omega who gets a job at an Omega café, where he’s basically paid to curl up and purr in Alphas’ laps. It’s legal, and he earns a living, rents his own place. He’s getting along fine for a packless Omega. Then Alpha rockstar Eddie Munson turns up for an hour of ‘kitty’ petting, and shatters Steve’s fragile little world…

Rating: M (will be E); No major warnings; Tags: omega steve, alpha eddie, a/b/o dynamics, fluff and angst; (It won't get tooooo angsty, I promise, and I should probably write a shorter version, but this seemed to want to get bedded in for some plot, so...) read on A03 and thank you @lexirosewrites for being so patient with my weird belated questions about what do with my idea!

Chapter 1 (below) Chapter 2 Chapter 3.1 Chapter 3.2 Chapter 4.1 Chapter 4.2 Chapter 5.1 Chapter 5.2 Chapter 6.1 Chapter 6.2

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Chapter 1

Steve clocked in with Carol at the coffee counter and cosied up on a beanbag waiting for the first customer to arrive. He couldn’t stop yawning and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t usually work the Monday morning graveyard shift at ‘Kitties’—otherwise known as the Omega Café. Carol usually put him on the weekends, which were their busiest times. Plenty of Alphas—and sometimes Betas—were free then, to pass an hour with a cute Omega purring in their lap.

For a cost, naturally.

Steve, though, had called in sick yesterday and needed to make up his lost earnings. He’d been in heat. So, three days of cold sweats, congealed slick, and crippling cramps. At least the blockers he used for this job curbed his desperation to be fucked. All the same, a dull gnawing pain in his pelvis persisted, he’d barely slept and…

…Ugh, this beanbag was, if anything, too inviting and soft.

He’d gotten his most comfy, stretchy shorts on, his most butter-soft collar, and an only-slightly-cropped-at-the-midriff vest. His feet were bare, which was fortunate. Right now, only his icicle toes were keeping him awake. He was tempted to grab one of the many fluffy blankets scattered around the café, pull it up over him and snooze.

He was torn between asking Carol for a double espresso or napping—to be fair, it was unlikely anybody would join them till noon—when the bell on the door tinkled.

So much for a peaceful snooze.

Fortunately, rather than a hungover Alpha, Robin burst in. On spotting Steve, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She hurried up to the counter and presented Carol with her Apple-Pay. “Flat white with an extra shot, and an hour of kitty cuddles, please.”

“Sure.” The payment bleeped through, and Carol turned to grind the coffee beans. She never bothered with great customer service for Steve’s best friend. That said, customer service wasn’t Carol’s strength at the best of times. Steve liked that about her. For an Omega, she was a bitey feral, and she sure had their boss, Tommy, under her claw.

Robin sat down at a table, pulled a cushion onto her lap. Steve shuffled over on his knees and laid his head on the cushion:

“Jesus, Robin,” he whispered, as she started to pet his hair. It was usual practice for Omegas to wait till the customer spoke first, but this was, well, Robin. “You don’t have to pay to see me, you know that?”

“Apparently, I do, Dingus! I’ve been going out of my mind! Why didn’t you return my, like, billion texts?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Her fretful pettings only made him feel more guilty. “I’m out of data, and you know how shit Wi-Fi is in Sunshine Village. Plus, I had really bad cramps this month—I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. God, I’m sorry, too.” She slowed her strokes, as they both relaxed a little. “I worry about you all the time, living there. Working here. I wish I could take you home with me. Damn, I should rent somewhere you’re actually allowed to live.”

“No way. I’m fine, Robin. Seriously, I’ve landed on my feet. I like having my own little home. The heating is working in my block this week, and this is a pretty cushy gig.”

Steve didn’t even say that for the benefit of Carol, who’d just dumped Robin’s coffee on the table, slopping half of it into the saucer.

Steve had arrived in the city four months ago, down to his last few dollars. He’d soon realized that acceptable Omega jobs—teaching assistant, nanny, seamstress, junior positions in retail and catering—would all require handing over too much information about himself. He’d also swiftly discovered that Sunshine Village, the district he’d heard about where single Omegas could live unmolested, was little better than a slum.

He’d been caught between the terrifying choices of fleeing back home, starving, or sex work. Then he’d stumbled across this place.

If Tommy had checked the fake name Steve gave, he hadn’t cared. Steve got paid in cash after each shift and earned enough to rent a small place in the Village. Which, despite its shabbiness, turned out to be full of friendly, supportive Omegas.

It all meant he didn’t have to worry about Robin being evicted from her pleasant ‘beta’ neighbourhood for harbouring an unregistered Omega.

Robin chatted on, while sipping the remnants of her coffee and petting Steve idly. While she complained about how unfair the world was for Omegas—they’d met when Steve had turned up at an Omega soup-kitchen she volunteered at—her speech also underlined his point.

His life could be a shitload worse.

This morning, he was being paid for his best friend to give him much-needed bodily contact in a no-strings-attached fashion. While he didn’t have to force fake purrs for her, like he did for the majority of customers, soft sleepy purring happened anyhow.

After Robin left for work, the café was empty again. Carol made them both hot chocolate then turned her attention to doing her nails. Steve breakfasted on an out-of-date lemon muffin, which was still nice and gooey in the middle, then slipped out to the washroom for the second time since Robin left. He needed to re-check his hair.

He was reapplying his eyeliner, when he heard the bell tinkle again.

So much for the ‘graveyard’ shift. He pinched his pale cheeks, bracing himself to face whoever wanted to cuddle him next.

A high-pitched squeal from Carol pierced Steve’s hearing—one that was probably only audible to other Omegas.

And the scent snatched his breath.

The Omega café was flushed with scent-neutralising air fresheners, for obvious reasons. Whoever this Alpha was, his musk was potent enough to punch straight through. It nearly floored Steve with low notes of leather and woodsmoke, and high notes of… Christ, Steve didn’t know what that was.

Plums? Fine Californian wine?

It set his mouth watering, for all of a split second.

Carol! Was she okay?

He rushed from the washroom and peeped from behind a thick velour curtain.

Carol was fine. She was taking payment from an Alpha with long, slightly-frizzy retro hair, a jean jacket—who the fuck wore those?—and dark soulful eyes.

Steve’s heart rate spiked.

The Alpha was pretty damn good-looking, and young too, maybe only a year or so older than Steve.

He was also faintly familiar.

Did Steve know him from back home? Would he recognise Steve?

“So, how does this work?” asked the newcomer. His drawling accent sent a shiver down Steve’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him… and that definitely wasn’t a North County accent. Steve relaxed slightly, ogling the guy who was literally setting both his and Carol’s legs wobbling.

“You pay up front for an hour of kitty cuddles,” she said. “You have to order a minimum of one drink, and all new customers must read and sign our rules and disclaimers.”

“Ma’am, it’s Monday morning.” The Alpha sounded wearily amused, gesturing to the three-page fine-print document she shoved across the counter. “Do I really have to read all this?”

“How about I summarize for you.” Yup, Carol was being helpful and polite. Either someone kidnapped the real Carol, or this Alpha really was special. “You’re not about to go into rut, I take it? Because if you are, Sir, I’m really, really sorry—we can’t take that risk here, or we could get shut down.”

The Alpha shook his head. While Carol reeled off a few pertinent points—“no scenting, obviously. No kissing,”—his gaze snapped onto where Steve skulked, half-hidden behind the drapes.

Steve jumped back out of sight.

“Soooo,” said the Alpha, when Carol finally stopped talking. “To summarise—I can stroke the pussies, but I can’t stroke the pussies?”

Carol giggled. Though they’d all heard that joke, and every variation on it, at least a billion times.

“Pretty much,” she said. “We’re absolutely NOT a brothel. And don’t expect cat-ears and whiskers and all that jazz. Thursday is usually full-costume night, and… erm, right now, we only have one kitty, and he seems to have strayed. Boy kitty okay with you?”

“Yes, thank you, Ma’am,” said the Alpha.

“Cool. I’ll go coax him out with a saucer of milk or something.”

She found Steve backed up against the dingy back-corridor wall, knees basically jello. “Get out there! Christ, you do realize who that is?”

Steve shook his head, throat too tight to speak. He honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him. Alphas moseyed in and out of this place every day. He was usually able to keep himself together.

“It’s Eddie Munson! Lead singer of Corroded Coffin? Super-hot and super-famous bad-boy Alpha rockstar? Jeeees, you really did live in a box till you got here, didn’t you? Look, get out there—before I tell him boy kitty is off the menu, grab my skimpiest bikini, and burrow into that scorching lap myself.”

She nudged him through the curtain. Eddie Munson had already settled onto one of the cafe’s roomiest couches, arms splayed along the back.

Legs splayed too.

Eddie glanced up and those gorgeous eyes raked Steve, head-to-toe, stripping him so bare he might as well have forgotten his shorts. The Alpha’s grin spread slowly, revealing glinting incisors, and creasing up into the sexiest dimples Steve had ever seen.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it across the room. Somehow, he did, shuffling the final few feet on his knees.

“Hello, Kitty,” said Eddie. Possibly taking pity, he closed his legs. He shoved his thighs forward so Steve could easily lay his head in them.

Steve did so, facing out across the café. His heart skittered like a little prey animal’s. It was only then that he realized Eddie hadn’t placed a cushion on his thighs. Well, if Carol hadn’t highlighted that part of the rules, Steve was hardly in a position to do it now.

Eddie didn’t mess around. Strong fingers plowed straight into the springy mass of Steve’s hair. “What’s your name, Honey?”

“Uh… St-steve?”

Who fucking stammers answering his own name?

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie.” He leaned a little closer, hot breath joining those strong fingers to send Steve even deeper into fluster. “How do you put up with the stink in here? I mean, I get it. All those Alpha-Omega scents battering each other would make this place a real fleshpot. Shame, though. I bet you smell real sweet. I mean, I think I get a whiff of you, even now.”

“You get used to it,” squeaked Steve, cutting that line of conversation off pronto.

“You get used to the diabolical plinky-plonky piano music too, Steve?”

“Honestly, I don’t even hear it anymore.”

To be fair, Steve didn’t hate the perpetual loop of movie theme-tune classics for exactly that reason. Even the smoochiest love songs—like the instrumental version of “Everything I do, I do it for you,” currently playing—didn’t mess with his emotions in the way music so often did.

Eddie snorted a dry chuckle, leaning back against the cushions again. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, Steve,” drawled Eddie, massaging deliciously into Steve’s scalp, “it’s pretty easy not to hear it. You have got the cutest purr.”

Steve’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even realized he was purring yet! Yeah, he could fake purr, but he’d been too befuddled to get to that. Now, he shook with loud rattling purrs that he could barely control.

Omegas purred when they were happy and relaxed, and also when distressed, to comfort themselves. He’d been reduced to that over the weekend. These purrs, though, grew couch-quakingly loud and felt different from anyway he’d purred before.

“You okay there, Honey?” Thank heavens Eddie was nice, though that made Steve’s weirdness all the more inexplicable. Eddie ran the back of coolish fingers down Steve’s burning cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His hormones must still be doing weird things after his chemically fucked-up heat.

He probably should’ve called in sick today too.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie said. “Look, it’s freakin’ Monday morning. I’m the weirdo Alpha checking this place out. You’re just doing your job, and you’re mighty fine at it, I’m sure.” The words washed through Steve, their brutal truth leaving an awkward residue. “Listen, I’m just gonna sip my coffee and chill. You reckon you can chill too, little kitty?”

“Yes, Alpha,” murmured Steve. The preening growl that jostled from Eddie was enough to make Steve desperate to obey.

He didn’t usually call anybody Alpha on the job. It wasn’t strictly against the rules, but unless a client demanded it—and only the real a-holes did—the kitties avoided it.

Eddie, though, had dragged it from Steve before he could think about it, much like those purrs.

And much like how, a minute or so of petting later, Steve found himself purring effortlessly, and totally relaxed. He wasn’t even stressed by the fact that his cheek rested dangerously close to Eddie’s Alpha dick. Which appeared to be ballooning slightly beneath his thick pair of sweatpants.

This was exactly why the cushions were compulsory. Though Steve barely had time to worry.

“Steve,” said Eddie, fingering around the edge of Steve’s collar in a fashion that literally made Steve’s eyes cross with yumminess. “Are there any rules against you getting in my lap for proper cuddles?”

“No. Absolutely not.” There really wasn’t, though of course, it only worked with the larger Alphas. There’d been no way Steve could’ve fitted into a Beta like Robin’s lap, for example, without some level of squishing. Eddie was, to be fair, not the largest Alpha around, but he was certainly large enough.

After some not-too-awkward manoeuvring—and guided by Eddie’s hand in the small of his back—Steve soon found himself sitting across Eddie’s lap. Eddie scooped him close, and his arms curled around Eddie’s neck.

He stared point-blank into the fathomless depths of Eddie’s dark eyes. Nope. Too much. He dipped his gaze, then squeaked. Now, he fixed on Eddie’s jawline and throat, dusted with scruff, and which drew him like, well, catnip.

Steve inhaled oaky-smoky plums and… Holy crap, what even was that? He was in serious danger of burying his face there and violating the no-scenting rule himself.

Once again, Eddie sensed his discomfort and guided Steve’s head down onto his shoulder, holding him there. “Hey, any chance of another coffee,” Eddie called to Carol. “Extra-large mocha with marshmallows, please, Ma’am? Think I might be settling here for a while.”

After that, Eddie appeared to go out of his way to make Steve even more comfortable. Perhaps noting Steve’s squirmings over getting too close to his scent gland, he slid a thin throw cushion beneath Steve’s cheek. He then settled them both back against the comfiest, most enveloping part of the sofa. He pulled one of those fluffy blankets up over them both. Soon, a floaty weariness, bone-deep but pleasant, overcame Steve.

Even his ovaries had stopped bugging him. God, this was nice. He really got paid for this? Damn, he’d fallen on his feet and Eddie smelled divine. He couldn’t help but daydream about that huge Alpha dick nestled stupid-close to his pussy, with only two layers of fabric between them. He was too sleepy to get too excited, tho’. He soon floated on the surface of a calm ocean, safe and serene…

When Steve began waking up, a honeyed glow saturated his head and heart and previously aching pelvis. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but they must’ve been good ones. He felt complete and happy and… he flicked his eyes open. Oh shit! The cafe buzzed with conversation. Several other kitties had come on shift and were snuggling with Alphas.

He’d fallen asleep on a customer’s lap.

Steve’s focus snapped onto the clock behind the counter, where Carol and her assistant, Chrissy, who also did kitty duties, were rushing around making lunches.

1.57 pm.

He’d been asleep on the job for nearly three hours.

Asleep in the lap of…

“Hey there,” drawled Eddie, “somebody’s a sleepy kitty.”

Steve daren’t look up. Was Eddie pissed? He didn’t sound it.

Steve opened his mouth. Shut it again, dabbing the corner. His head had slipped off the pillow and rested against Eddie’s chest. The Alpha’s booming heartbeat mingled with an amused chuckle.

Steve wasn’t laughing: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“I know.” Eddie’s low rumbling sigh was one of the most contented sounds Steve had ever heard. “You gonna charge extra for that, Honey?”

Chapter 2 on tumblr On A03

🐈‍⬛🐈��⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ I have got quite a bit of this fic drafted, so hopefully more soon. If you’re enjoying, please let me know, or like and reblog... it means a lot to know somebody would like to read more *purrs hopefully* and thank you soooo much for reading this far 💚

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Please, Please, Please

Summary: A lot can change in two years, but will your husband be able to gain back your trust?

Pairing: past (?) Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3k

Rating: T

Warnings: angst, talk about past shitty behaviour, moving on, feelings and their denial, more feelings, earning back trust, eventual forgiveness, flashbacks, maybe... a kiss???!

A/N: This is it! The last part of yet another series that started out as a very angsty one shot I had no real intention of writing more parts of. I hope you like this last part. Now all I need is to finish my long neglected Joel Soulmate series....

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

part five of invisible string

Christmas was approaching. 

The second Christmas you and your family would be spending in Jackson. 

And with it a long to do list to make the holiday as perfect as it was possible in these times. The plan today was to prepare everything for the cookie bake session the next day at the community hall. Your alarm bleeped early and you reached over it blindly with a long groan that turned into a cough that shook your whole body. 

Groaning you turned to lay on your back, your eyes blinking open. 

Trying to take a deep breath through your nose gave you another cough attack, your throat hurting, your nose stuck. 

„Fuck,“ you sighed, eyes closing. 

„Mommy?“ There was a knock on the door. It was Ana. 

„Mhhhhh?“ You sighed and the door opened. Your heard her footsteps coming to the side of your bed, your eyes opening. Smiling softly at her wearing the Christmas jumper Tommy had gotten for her and her brother only the week before. Patrol having found five boxes in the corner of an old store a couple weeks ago. 

Her lips turned down as she looked at you. 

„Are you okay Mom?“ She asked, frowning. 

„I think I’m a little bit sick,“ you coughed, voice hoarse. 

„Oh nooo,“ she said, about to crawl into bed with you when you heard the door downstairs open and Joel calling a loud Good Morning into the house. 

„Daddy’s here,“ she cried out happily before she turned around, about to run out of your room, stopping at the door, looking at you. 

„Get better soon,“ she smiled before she turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving you chuckling to yourself. 

You must have fallen asleep again at some point, the sun already high up in the sky when your eyes blinked open the next time. You tried to take a deep breath which only ended in another coughing fit. 

You looked around the room, surprised when you found a full bottle of water on your bedside table. Next to it was one of those herbal scent candles lighted you knew one of the nurses from the clinic made in her free time and you think you could scent the eucalyptus. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

„You’re awake,“ you were startled, your head turning towards the voice, finding Joel leaning in the doorway. 

„Barely,“ you croaked and he hummed. 

„I got the kids to school and I shovelled the snow in front of the house. I also started some chicken soup downstairs and Tommy will get some honey so I can make you your favourite tea,“ he said and a small smile sneaked to your face. 

„You remember my favourite tea?“ You asked and he looked almost insulted. 

„With the amount of times you asked me to keep an eye out for honey and lemon? You bet I do,“ he winked.

You still did not know how to react to him causally mentioning things like these. 

The last almost two years had been a constant back and forth on your journey to learning to trust Joel again. And he was working hard to get you to trust him again. 

You had talked. A lot. 

Which was so unlike the Joel you had married in Boston. He answered every question you had and apologised over and over again until you told him to stop. 

Deep down you had forgiven him a long time ago, and you told him so. Because it was hard to hold a grudge over someone who had such a big part in your life.

But that did not mean things could just go back to the way they were before. 

Something he agreed on. He did not want to get back to how things were. Because the way he treated you was not how a husband should treat his wife. And if you’d give him a chance to show him how he wanted to treat you if you’d let him, he’d love to have one. 

That was how family dinner started. 

Once per week in your house. 

Once in his house. 

And occasionally at Tommy and Maria’s.

In the beginning your brother joined the dinners too, still not trusting Joel completely, at least not with you and his family. 

Outside of that they became quite the patrol team, becoming partners. Calvin trusted Joel to have his back and vice versa. But it took longer to gain that trust when it came to you and the kids. 

You actually had one of your biggest fights with your brother when you wanted to tell Ana and Leo that Joel was their father. 

It was almost a year ago. 

You could see the longing in Joel’s eyes every time he was looking at the two children.

And even though it scared the shit out of you to tell them the truth and let Joel into your life like that, you knew your kids life would be better with Joel as their father. 

Because above all, Joel was a Dad. 

He had spoken a lot to you about Sarah and how losing her made him lose the part of himself that kept him going. That kept him human. 

He told you that he felt a little like that again when he met you, when you were together. But so many things had happened that made him fear for what would happen if you were taken from him too, that he always kept you at arms length. Even though all he wanted was to just love on you.

That part of him had died, or so he thought. 

Loosing you for real had made him spiral so badly, he had woken up in the FEDRA hospital with no recollection of how he got there. 

Apparently while drinking himself into a coma his heart had given out and he had a heart attack. 

If it wasn’t for Tess coming to pick him up for a drop he would have died. 

And it was only after then that he realised how much he was the problem in the situation he was in. 

Which apparently did not mean he wanted to change. 

No, things got even worse before they got better, but Joel did not want to go into detail about that. 

It was only after he was tasked with taking Ellie to the fireflies, you knew she was immune by now, that he felt like he was starting to heal. It was her that did it, and he told you that he was sorry he could not do it for you. That you had to live with a shell of a man. 

More than once he asked you how you could ever have fallen in love with him in the first place to which you only said

„The moment I first saw you I knew that you would be it for me. It was you or no one, Joel.“

And so, a week before Joel’s birthday you had sat him down and told him that you wanted to tell Ana and Leo that he was their father.

A news that was taken with big eyes and excited shouts of „I always wanted a Daddy!“ by both of your kids when you finally told them. 

Yet when a month after Ana and Leo asked you if they could have a sleepover at their Daddy’s place you found yourself agreeing only reluctantly. Frankly, you did not know what to do with yourself when your kids weren’t around. Because ever since you had given birth to them, you were never apart for more than a couple of hours. 

This would be two days.

You think it was the panic of being completely alone in your house that made you agree to meet up for dinner with Nick, Jackson’s dentist. 

He was in his late forties and had been in Jackson for the last five years. 

And it was only after almost an hour into the dinner that you realised that he thought this was a date. A date you had said yes to. 

Internally panicking you had excused yourself with a very much not existent headache, making your way to Maria and Tommy’s where you and Maria had a glass of Jackson’s first red wine and a much needed talk which made you come to the realisation that the thought of dating, let alone being together with anyone other than Joel was so foreign to you that for some reason you let Maria talk you into an actual date with Nick. 

It seemed logical to you after two glasses of wine.

Something you regretted by the time the date ended and you had allowed Nick to kiss you. 

You felt absolutely nothing.

Thankfully he felt the same way.

What you did not know was that Joel had seen the two of you kiss. He had been on his way to the Bison to pick up leftover cake for the kids, Ellie was at home with Ana and Leo. 

It was only when Tommy walked by, watching Joel stare at the spot you and Nick had long been gone from that Joel snapped out of his trance, the cake long forgotten as he walked back to his house. 

He had asked you about it the next morning, wanting to know if he still had a chance to make things right with you. 

And seeing him like that, almost desperate at the thought of having lost you for good, stirred something in you. 

So in a move neither you or him had seen coming, you had kissed him. 

It was just a quick peck, so quick you did not even realise it happened until after when you saw Joel’s surprised expression. He just looked down at you, his lips parted in surprise. You were torn if you wanted to run out for the door or if you wanted more. So you didn’t fight him when he pulled you closer, his arm hesitantly coming to wrap around your body, his face lowering to catch your lips in a kiss that would be consuming your every waking thought in the near future. 

He kissed you like you were his oxygen, and it stirred something inside of you, you thought you had forgotten. 

Joel moaned when you let your fingers scratch through his hair, his whole body seemingly jumping in surprise. 

Parting from your lips, he rested his forehead against yours. 

A tear slipped down his cheek as he smiled at you. 

„I gotta pick up the kids from school,“ he whispered and you took a deep breath. 

„I know,“ you whispered back. 

He pecked your lips again, before he very reluctantly let go of you. 

„See you at my place for family dinner later?“ He asked, to which you only nodded. He smiled, making you laugh when he walked straight into the wall behind him, cursing under his breath. 

That day was three months ago.

And while you haven’t kissed since then, you and Joel got closer. As close as possible without actually being together. 

Because there was a tiny part of your brain who was still wondering if the old Joel is lurking somewhere. If he would end up hurting you again once something happened that he could not deal with. If he would lash out like a wounded animal just to push you away again. 

Though deep down the last almost two years had shown you that he had changed. He was…. Content. Happy even at times. Mostly when he was with you and the kids. 

Ana and Leo asking if their Daddy could live with you was not helping either. 

Because you craved it. 

You craved having some… domestic normalcy in this crazy world. You wanted to come home to Joel. To have dinner with him and the kids every single day. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You wanted to wake up with him. 

You just wanted to be with him. 

The tiny part in your brain just needed to shut up and let you do your thing. 

When you woke up the next time to a coughing fit, the sun was setting outside. Taking a deep breath, or as deep as you could manage, you sat yourself up with a groan. You went in the bathroom to do your business before you grabbed your fluffy bathrobe, Joels birthday gift to you, and slowly made your way downstairs. 

You could hear Leo asking something when you made it down the stairs. Following his voice you walked towards the kitchen, a smile sneaking to your lips at the picture that you walked into. 

Joel was sitting at the kitchen table together with Leo, Ana on his lap. He had his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, as he helped Ana use one of the cookie cutters to make the perfect cookie, a big sheet of dough on the table. 

Looking through the kitchen you could see that he must have prepared the whole dough that you had intended to make for the baking session tomorrow. There was a big pot on the stove which probably would be the chicken soup he mentioned earlier. And to top it all off it looked like he had fixed the blinds of the kitchen window. 

„Mommy is awake,“ you heard Joel say and you looked back at your little family, sitting at the table. 

Leo and Ana were grinning at you, just like Joel, all three showing the dimple in their cheeks. 

„Are you feeling better mommy?“ Ana asked and you nodded. 

„A little. I might feel even better after I eat something,“ you said and she nodded. 

„You should have some of the soup Dad made. It’s super yummy,“ Leo perked up and you smiled. 

„I think I will,“ you said, walking over. You were about to grab a bowl to put some soup in when you heard Joel get up. 

„Sit. I’ll bring you some,“ he whispered as he walked by, his hand coming to rest on your hip as he did. You nodded, too tired to fight him before you walked and sat down at the table. 

„Daddy made so much dough, we can make our own cookies,“ Ana said, carefully picking up the cookie she had just cut out, setting it down on the baking sheet. 

„I didn’t even know Daddy could make dough. Or…. Cook anything really,“ you said.

„I have some hidden talents you do not know about,“ Joel winked as he sat a bowl of soup down you wish you could smell. It looked delicious and you gave him a small smile. 

„You gotta tell me about those hidden talents some time,“ you said and he nodded with a mischievous grin. 

„Will do. Now eat. You gotta get better,“ he said before he sat back down to make some more cookies. 

This is what you wanted. 

You wanted to have everyone you loved under one roof. You wanted Joel to never leave. 

You were back in bed after dinner, reading your book when you heard a soft knock on your opened bedroom door. Looking up you found Joel there, looking at you.

„Kids are in bed. I’m gonna get them tomorrow morning too, so try to sleep the cold off and get better quickly. Wouldn’t want you to miss Christmas over this,“ he said.

You nodded softly.

„Okay. Then…. Good night,“ he said, about to leave.

„Joel?“ You asked and he stopped and looked at you.

„Yeah?“

„Would you… Would you mind staying?“ You asked quietly.

Concern washed over his face immediately, walking towards you. 

„Are you feeling worse?“ He asked. He knelt down beside the bed with a groan, his hand coming to rest on your forehead. You shook your head, your hand taking his and pulling it down to rest against your cheek. 

„I want…. I want you to stay. Here. With me. With us. I want us to be a real family. I want to fall asleep next to you every night. I… want you to be my husband. For real this time. Because I finally feel like I know you. All of you. And I… I love you,“ you said.

Joel just looked at you. 

And when he didn’t say anything you were afraid you had waited for too long to completely forgive him. Your face fell and you were about to pull away when he kissed you, surprising you. 

„I love you,“ he mumbled against your lips and you sighed relieved. 

„I love you so much,“ he said and you carefully pushed him away.

„You gonna get sick,“ you warned and he huffed a teary laugh.

„I don’t care. Through sickness and in health, remember baby?“ He asked.

„We actually never said those vows,“ you reminded him and he hummed. 

„That’s why I’m gonna ask you to marry me. For real this time. But not now,“ he said and your eyes widened, your head shaking. 

„We are already married Joel. You don’t have to ask me.“

„Oh but I do. Because if we do this, I want to do this right. Fresh start. I wanna speak my vows in front of everyone who wants to listen because I will spend the rest of my life loving you the way I should have from the start,“ he said and you felt yourself tear up. 

„But not now. Now I want you to get better so I can take you out to show you the surprise I’ve been working on,“ he said and you smiled. 

„Surprise?“ You asked, he nodded. 

„I have been working on a surprise for you and the kids, and it’s finally ready,“ he brushed his hand over your cheek.

„Now I wanna knowwww,“ you pouted and he smiled.

„You will,“ he promised.

„Joel?“

„Yeah?“

„Will you hold me?“ You whispered and his expression softened before he nodded. 

Minutes later you were laying in bed, Joel behind you, his arms around you. 

„Thank you for giving me another chance at loving you,“ he whispered against your ear. 

„Don’t waste it,“ you hummed, already half asleep. 

„I won’t,“ he promised before you both fell asleep. 

[yellowbunnydreams]

Melancholia (William Afton x F! Reader) [Part 1]

~So, I decided I wanted a go at writing William Afton from the games instead of Movie version/Steve Raglan, and I thought, what better way to explore that than through some really obvious religious imagery because that man definitely has a god-complex. This is obviously an AU, please don't hate on it because 'it's not cannon'~

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI - Age difference, Older man/younger woman, Murder (adult and child), violent acts, manipulation, gas-lighting, dead bodies, blood, gore, graphic description of injury, use of religious imagery, toxic relationship, boss x employee, god-complex, knife-play

The shrieks of voices and the blaring, bleeping arcade lights were almost overwhelming if you had never been to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza before. There was always a chaotic energy to the place, kids running about, practically seeing who could take out the most staff as they barrelled from the dining area and party rooms towards the arcade. You learnt to be quick on your feet and observant of your surroundings quite quickly.

"Hey superstar, you need to watch where you're going okay?" You laughed to a child who almost collided with your legs, one hand shooting down to protect your black work pants from the half-drunk cup of soda as they looked up at you and stuck their tongue out, scowling as much as the chubby face of an eight year old could before running off again.

Picking one of the nearby tables that had no patrons sat at it, you began to clean up. Piling up the discarded wax-paper lined baskets of half-chewed fries coated in god-knew-how-much ketchup and the pizza tray, swearing under your breath as you spilt soda down your purple starry vest. The uniform had changed recently from fairly easy to clean plain red, to the god-awful embroidered purple, the silver stars were supposed to match the curtains on Pirate's Cove and the paper ones that hung from the ceiling. Glancing up at them, you caught sight of the large window that overlooked the main dining room, the dark.

Every employee in Freddy's knew of that room. William Afton's office, from where he looked down at all the people like god-on-high. You hadn't had a run in with Afton during your two year employment, but you'd heard the tales. He moved weirdly silently for a man of his height, you'd even heard co-workers joking that he wasn't even human, that Henry Emily had replaced him with a robot some time ago, that you could tell by the cold, dead way his blue eyes focused on people. That he had been the one orchestrating the aftermath when an employee had had their skull cracked open by a malfunctioning animatronic, standing calmly amongst the chaos and blood with barely a wrinkled nose of disgust.

A touch on your shoulder shook your out of your thoughts and snapped you back into the chaos of Freddy's once more. The dark, neon patterned carpet making your eyes swim as you realised you had looked down automatically to child level.

"You look fucking exhausted." A mousy brown haired guy laughed, wearing the same uniform as you, his own white shirt splattered with ketchup and other slightly dubious grease stains as you relaxed your shoulders. You couldn't remember his name, but you knew the guy at least, you'd worked together a few times, and he always spared a smile for you.

"There are children present." You mumbled, earning a laugh as he grabbed the glasses from the table, holding onto them as you picked up the tray full of dining debris and headed towards the kitchen together. "If Mr. Emily or Mr. Afton catches you, you'll get your pay docked."

"Mr. Emily keeps himself in the workshop constantly and maybe three people on staff have seen Mr. Afton, like...ever." He laughed, rolling his eyes and weaving through bodies like he too was well practised, although the slight sheen to the work pants legs told of plenty of grabby little, sticky hands that had collided with him.

"He's not a god-damn cryptid!" Shaking your head and placing down the clutter from the wash-pass, wiping down your hands against your pants before bending over slightly and looking at the clock through the small window.

It was time to clock out at least, sighing as you headed towards the back corridors that belonged to the staff. The colourful lights dancing across everything in the pizzeria as you heard Freddy and the band starting up through the tinny speakers that should have been replaced something like a decade ago. Your colleague following you with a shrug as he gestured to the chunky watch he had on his wrist.

"Hey, it's time for me to clock off too. God knows we don't get overtime, and secondly, going back to my earlier point; half these kids know more foul language than we do." Pointing to a corner where a bunch of kids seemed to be focused on a much small child, crying in the corner. The laughter you could faintly hear as you passed by them to get to the employee's only door giving you a good indication that it wasn't in good nature, both looking at each other before walking a little faster.

Not on the clock, not your problem.

You waved goodbye as you headed towards the women's locker room on the west side of the building, thankful that least upper management had thought to put in separate changing rooms as you tiredly unbuttoned the starry vest, breathing a sigh of relief as you ran your fingers through your hair. Cringing when you realised that you didn't quite know what they'd touched through the day and sighing that you were going to have to wash your hair. Again. Nobody told you that working with kids would leave you feeling like you should get hazard pay for simply being in their vicinity, god only knew how many times you'd filed for sick pay when some brat had given you the flu or some other stubborn thing that wouldn't leave you be.

Changing quickly, you headed out. Uniform stuck in a plastic bag to avoid it getting too close to the semi-clean clothes you'd shoved in, in order to change into once your shift ended. Glancing up and down the comparatively quiet corridor as you picked up your time card and placed it into the clock, swearing slightly as you couldn't get the punch to work. Banging your fist against the wall in frustration, wondering why management didn't just spend a little more money on the damn equipment that you all had to use, rather than public relations to cover the bad press the pizzeria had.

"Is there a problem?"

You spun on your heel as you heard the unfamiliar voice, brow knitted together as you stared at the voice's owner. He was leaned against the nearby wall, his head cocked to one side slightly as he looked down at you with a cold regard that seemed more like he was regarding something inanimate than a person. Glancing over him, he was slender, but wiry as he had his arms crossed over his chest, able to see the tendons moving in his hands as his fingers flexed, but he was wearing the white shirt, purple starry vest and black pants that marked him as part of Freddy's. The start of dark circles under his eyes were also par for the course.

"Yeah, stupid punch clock won't move." Huffing and turning your attention back to the clock, feeling yourself wince as you noticed the time had crawled by and you were already a few minutes over your shift. Time you would never get back. "You can clock in in a moment."

He was too clean to have been clocking out. You supposed that the clock on the other side of the halls closer to the men's was probably just as busted, if not more so.

A pale, slender hand reached into your vision and startled you, making you take a step back as the man clicked a small button on the side of the clock before pressing down the stamp. Stamping your card for you, pulling it out with a flourish and handing it over with a lazy smile that made your chest tighten unusually, even if his blue eyes didn't seem to carry any warmth to them.

"You've got to check the safety's on or not. It's to stop people messing with the time cards if they came back here accidentally." His accent was rough, British, soothing. You frowned, looking up slightly at him and watching as he ran his fingers through his cool brown hair, which seemed roughly cut like he had done it himself. Greying at the temples and the occasional grey hair standing out against his darker hair. "You'll get used to it."

"I've worked here for two years and never heard of that bullshit." You muttered, rolling your eyes and changing your bag to your other hand as the man raised a thick eyebrow and stared at you some more.

"You've worked here for two years?" Seemingly surprised by the statement as you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to go home and collapse onto your bed, not stand around talking to some newbie.

"And?"

"I've just never seen you around."

"You probably know me by my name, it's-"

"I honestly don't give a fuck what your name is. I need to finish my work, and you should go home, doll, I'm sure there's...something...you have to fill your time with." The sudden shift in his soothing voice made you blink, his tone never changing, reading as bored. Somehow, you felt mildly offended that this stranger simply seemed not to care, sucking your teeth and tutting as you shook your head and began to walk for the door. Feeling his eyes linger for just a moment before footsteps moving away told you that you were being left alone.

The next day, you managed to drag yourself into Freddy's with five minutes to spare before your shift. Grabbing your punch card and clocking in before you quickly got on your freshly washed uniform with barely enough time to grab a soda and carry with you into the main dining area. Wednesdays had never been particularly busy, but then again, what counted as 'quiet' for Freddy's never quite aligned to the other businesses in Hurricane's idea of it.

You took a deep breath and went to lean against the prize counter for a brief reprieve before the onslaught, hearing a door open and looking towards the arched entrance and waiting for a customer to emerge despite the fact it was nine in the morning, shrugging when you didn't see one emerging. Eyes flickering about to see if you could locate where the noise had come from, seeing movement on the staircase up to Afton's office that was tucked away in the corner of the pizzeria. Raising your eyebrow as you pulled out your soda and took a sip, wondering who was visiting your elusive boss.

You almost choked when the figure paused and looked directly at you however.

It was the guy from the previous day. Only this time he had a black blazer over the top of his purple vest, one lapel covered in various pin-badges from the arcade games and prize counter that made a faint clinking noise with how many there were as he walked in your direction. His hair was swept back, like he had just run his finger through it, and you could see a slight curl to the flyaway pieces that had refused to comply. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks as he glanced at you for a moment, pausing and blinking slowly as you stared back.

"No trouble with the punch-clock this morning then?" That same soothing lull to his voice as you quietly shook your head and took another sip of your drink. Eyes flickering over his badges on his lapel, one worn out enamel pin of what looked like a rabbit head catching your eye before you spotted some red against his purple vest. The colour having seeped into the silvery stars embroidery.

"You have something on your vest." Making the man look down, pulling his vest away from his body to look before his blue eyes snapped back up. A wolfish grin spreading across your face that made your heart race just a little as there was a dark spark in the usually dim eyes.

"Oh, nothing to worry about. It's only marinara sauce."

With that, he passed by. No explanation, no excuse. You watched the tall, lithe man leave with a little confusion as to who he was. You decided that you had to know, jogging after him slightly to catch up with his long, purposeful strides. The man pausing and looking at you curiously, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Look, you might not give a fuck about what my name is, but I do give a fuck about what yours is." Crossing your arms across your chest, he cocked his head slightly, regarding you with a sudden interest that hadn't been there before. Like he was realising that you were a living, breathing person for the first time. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, turning to face you fully before sliding his hand from his pocket, offering it for you to shake. You noticed that his hands were well manicured, even if the nails were a little longer than you expected and the way he squeezed your hand when you shook made them bite a little into your skin.

"William, Afton that is." You could feel the colour draining from your face as he pulled you forwards, having to take a step closer and his voice low, almost purring as he spoke quietly. "And don't worry, doll, I'll let the swearing slide this time."

"You didn't care yesterday."

"You weren't in uniform yesterday, remember?" Releasing your hand and giving you another wolfish smile as his hand returned to his pockets, the faint jingle of the pin badges as he moved an almost comical sound as William stared for a second. Turning on his heels and moving off with no more thought than if he had already said 'goodbye'.

Well, now you could at least say you had met one of your bosses. Even if something in the back of your head scratched and itched as to why William Afton was handling marinara sauce, reasoning that it was probably from his lunch break, not that he looked like he ate often, and you had never actually seen somebody take anything up to his office space. Glancing at the darkened upstairs window, you shook your head and decided it wasn't worth thinking about. Swallowing down your confusion and settling your sights on one of the smaller, fresher faced workers with a scowl as they tried to make a beeline for the prize-counter unnoticed.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, newbie? Older workers get to pick their jobs first, you know the rules." The unwritten code of Fazbear Entertainment workers as the smaller figure startled and scurried away whilst you detoured to pick up your drink and head towards the prize counter.

It was going to be a long day.

You'd forgotten you were on closing duties, even though you had begged to swap. Open to close was a brutal shift that nobody enjoyed, especially since to 'cut costs', recently there had only been one member of staff closing down each night. The pizzeria was creepy when the lights were mostly turned off, only the flickering arcade screens and the backlit animatronic stage to light the main dining area. Casting long shadows across Freddy, Bonnie and Chica's soft furred parts. The eye sockets seeming hollower without the eyes being lit up, the way their jaws hung open slackly seeming almost like the death throes of the animals they represented, or an all too human scream. You couldn't decide which was worse.

Heading back into the employee corridor, your footsteps seemed to echo slightly against the chequered tiles, so used to the faint sound of the extremely loud music playing from birthday parties and children's games as they ran around. Instead, there was only your footsteps and the hum of the halogen light strips above you. Casting everything in a slight sickly yellow glow. Eyes darting as you took stock of the cobwebs that had probably been there since the restaurant opened, posters lining the check bordered walls, kids drawings scattered amongst it all. Memories of happy children who loved to see the animatronics perform, or had their birthdays at that location.

You were pulled from your thoughts as a metallic clatter caught your attention. Pausing and glancing down the corridor where the sound came from. There was only one door at the end of it, which you couldn't read the signage on from where you stood. Slowly approaching and trying to place your heel down first, quieting your footsteps against the tile as your heart began to thump harder in your chest.

"Hello?" You called out instinctually, cursing yourself for it when you were trying to be sneaky. If there was anybody, they surely would have gotten spooked and ran off by the time you got to the door, but you reasoned that you weren't about to get jumped by some drugged up junkie looking to steal metal to sell off to feed their habit. The door looming large as your eyes wandered over the lettering embossed onto the plaque screwed to it. 'Parts and Services'.

Pushing the door open, you had to blink to adjust your eyes to the darkness inside. Swallowing as you stepped in and the heavy door automatically swung shut under it's own weight behind you. Eyes adjusting to the very low light, flickering as your hands reached out in front of you and felt for some form of light to turn on.

Two years you had worked there, two years you had avoided any of the creepy horror stories that surrounded Freddy's and it's owners. You just had to go and stick your nose where it didn't belong, and you were left fumbling in the dark, managing to grab onto a table as you slipped in something slick across the tile floor. Feeling across the table and squealing when your fingers touched something furry. Praying that it wasn't a rat that had decided to place itself upon the altar of mechanical parts. Heart beating so quickly you could hear it pounding in your ears, hands shaking as you reached your hand out again to check whether or not the thing was still there.

Your fingers found the furred texture again, realising it was longer than anticipated and pushing your fingers into it, trying to figure out what on earth it was.

"And on the first day, the lord said; let there be light!" The voice startling you as it seemed to be so close yet so far away, blinking rapidly as the light turned on in the room and you couldn't help but flinch and look down towards the table. Your head hurt with the rapid change of light, taking a moment to adjust as your fingers curled around the soft texture in your hand, keeping your head down, vision finally clearing.

To see the face of your co-worker staring back at you with the same slack jawed expression that the animatronics had. Your hand in his hair, shrieking and pulling your hand free, slipping and tumbling as the face followed and you watched in silent horror as the head bounced against the tile. Rolling to face away, the bloody, raw meat, bone and gristle that you could see inside of what was once a neck, looking down and realising that your shaking hands were covered in claret. Thick, clotting, the smell of hot pennies and raw red meat overwhelming, wondering how you didn't notice it before.

Footsteps, your eyes wide and transfixed on the rolled head of your co-worker as well polished black shoes came into view, kicking the head slightly and making you wince as you head the meaty thud it made when it connected. Bloody hands coming into view, one clutching a fire-axe near the head as the figure crouched. Looking up, you saw the pale, angular face. Star vest coated in red, splashed against his pale skin as the blue eyes sparkled. William looked positively elated, a predatory grin across his face as you looked him over, realising that the childish pin-badges were coated in the gore too.

"Oh doll, you shouldn't have come back here. But I'm not going to punish your curiosity, little lamb." The cool, calm British voice made you shiver, there was something dark and feral in the way he fixed you under his intense gaze, eyes lazily drawing down your now coated body with his own shiver of delight as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"H-He's- He's..." You stammered and William scoffed, rolling his eyes as he reached out, placing the flat side of the bloody axe under your chin and tilting it up so you would look at him again.

"Come on doll, you can say the word." Cooing encouragingly as you trembled before him.

"Dead. You...Oh god you killed him!"

"That's right, here at Freddy's, I am god." A self satisfied smirk as he tilted the axe to make the blade almost brush against your skin. Heart pounding as you realised that this was probably the end. Murdered by your boss, covered in your co-workers blood.

"So let me show you what a merciful god I am, and allow you to take your first communion." Standing up and spreading his arms wide, smile never leaving his face as the single lightbulb above illuminated behind his tousled, greying hair and formed a bloody halo for William Afton.

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark - Chapter Six: Halloween

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Sooo...how about a 20k word chapter? It may have slightly grown beyond my expectations. Hope you enjoy!

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Chapter Four: Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Chapter Five: Sleepover

Ao3 link

---

The nylon gown scratched at the bare skin of her chest, fluorescent lights burned her eyes and buzzed incessantly, and the dull symphony of bleeping monitors was close to driving her to madness. Eyes closed, she could easily be back in Great Ormond Street Hospital with the brightly painted walls, or the view of the British Museum’s roof from her window. Hawkins Memorial was small, the smells and sights were different. And when Rose looked to her left, instead of her friend Elaine in her oxygen mask smothered in colourful boy band stickers pulled from the pages of magazines, there was only her Mum, sitting in a narrow armchair, picking at her the red-raw beds of her nails and stewing in a tense misery. Perhaps hospitals wore on Mum even more than they did Rose. After all, she’d lost Rose’s dad in an accident and seen her only child seriously ill within a year. No wonder Mum looked peaky just being back in here, washed out and pale under the hostile lighting.

The bleeping and rhythmic line moving up and down on the screen was steady, like the slow beat of Lars Ulrich on the drums in one of the songs on Eddie’s mixtape, Fade to Black. It must have pleased Dr Bateman, for he scratched his moustache and nodded, scribbling down something in Rose’s file.

“Alrighty then,” he said, clicking his pen and putting it back in his white coat pocket. “Mr McAllister, your daughter’s heart seems to be functioning well.”

Jerry looked from Rose to her mum nervously. “Oh, I’m just her stepfather, no need to t-”

“So I see no cause for concern,” the doctor continued, not even giving Rose or her agitated mother a glance. “If there are any significant changes then have her come in, but otherwise we’ll repeat the ECG in three months and go from there. Make sure she keeps up with her meds in the meantime. Okay?”

Jerry was flustered. “Um..oh, I guess. Does that mean there’s no risk of anything going...you know...wrong?”

Her mum swallowed hard and looked away, and Rose could see she’d made fingers bleed from picking at them.

“Well,” Dr Bateman said slowly. “There’s always a chance that complications can occur down the line. But more than likely, she’ll be-”

“Eighty-twenty, isn't it doc.” Rose didn’t try to hide the disdain she felt at saying it out loud. “There is an eighty percent chance I’ll be just the same as anyone else and keep going as I am, but a twenty percent chance that I’ll develop heart failure at any time in the future.” 

The doctor grunted. “Like I said, more than likely she’ll be normal.”

“Oh good, you can hear me,” Rose exaggerated her smile. “I was beginning to think I may be invisible. Tell me, if we played Russian roulette right now, and I held a gun to your head, would you be happy with a twenty percent chance of a bullet in the chamber? One in five?”

“No need to be smart now,” his lip stiffened, moustache trembling.

Of course. Smart mouths were somehow more acceptable when you didn’t have tits. God forbid a woman talk back. She took a deep breath and looked at the charts by his side. “Aside from regularity, were you able to hear any sluggish murmurs that might mean endocarditis? No? In that case, be a dear and fetch Dr Abrams from neurology, so he can carry out the electroencephalogram and I can get out of here as quickly as bloody possible.”

The doctor’s face was thunder, he gave Jerry a pissed-off look and turned on his heel and left the small room, shiny shoes tapping on the linoleum, at least a hundred beats per minute. 

“What an unpleasant man,” her mum said. “But I do wish you wouldn’t antagonise the medical staff, Rose. If something should ever happen, it’s them who...who’ll...oh gosh, i’m feeling dizzy. I should sit down.”

Jerry held her mum’s shoulders gently. “Honey, you’re already sat down.”

Her brows drew together like she was startled. “Am I? How silly of me. It’s alright, I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”

Rose, now free of all the wires attached to her chest, swung her legs off the rickety hospital bed. “It’s not more nightmares, is it?”

“No...well, just a few.”

“Shirley,” Jerry said. “I think you should see someone about that. The Department of Energy has in-house doctors for all sorts of things, without even going through insurance. Maybe I can make an appointment with a therapist.”

That was it, her mother laughed, dropping her purse onto the floor. “Therapy, Jerry? Nonsense, I am not mentally ill. It must be all the wires and the pipes in the house, you can’t go five minutes in that house without being woken up by clanking and buzzing. I don’t need a therapist, I need a plumber!”

Another doctor burst in, an older, kooky-looking gentleman with bushy white hair and round glasses, like a smiling Einstein. 

“Dr Abrams, at your service,” he nodded toward Rose. “My colleague is as wound up as a teakettle, steam coming right out his ears. Do I have you to thank for that, Miss McAllister?”

She nodded.

“You must tell me your secret. That man’s as grouchy as a possum eating scraps from a dumpster.”

Rose smiled, immediately put at ease. “I don’t believe I've seen a possum before, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Two nurses dragged another machine, this one with an intricate web of wires, each ending in a sensor. But unlike the little sensors that had been taped to her chest, these were attached together in the snape of a cap.

He looked over the rim of his glasses as the nurse held out the cap. “I would explain the EEG to you, but I don’t think this is your first rodeo, is it Miss McAllister?”

Rose tucked her hair out the way and flattened the waves alongside her head as much as possible. “No it’s not.”

The nurses attached the sensors all over her head, as close-fitting as a swimming cap and stretching from her forehead to the nape of her neck. The machine came to life, and she sat still for a long time as they fiddled with the monitor screen and dials and knobs beneath.

Dr Abrams read through her file as the machine did its thing, and Rose stayed still. “So two years since the surgery and your cardiac arrest. Dr Bateman’s tests look good, no issues identified with your heart right now. I see the hospital in England kept you in for a lot of neurological testing after the resuscitation. Are you having any memory issues?”

“Nope.”

“Any unusual changes in your temper, sudden mood swings?”

“Define unusual,” her mum snickered, and the doctor’s mouth turned up into a smile. 

“From your mother’s reaction, I'll take that as nothing abnormal for a teenager. See, I find this a little odd. Three minutes is a long time for inactivity of the brain, permanent damage becomes very likely.”

Rose shrugged. “So they keep telling me. But I don’t feel any different than before, doctor. Except for this lovely scar.”

“Three minutes...” mum trailed off, her voice numb and distant. “They told me something was wrong, and the doctors had begun resuscitation. The nurses in the waiting room said anything beyond ten minutes meant no chance of recovery...I would have sworn that the cup of tea they shoved into my hand went cold whilst I waited, and I saw them look at their watches and shake their heads when they thought I wasn’t looking. But then the doctor came out to tell me you were actually alive after all. It might have been three minutes, but...it’s like Wordsworth’s poem, isn’t it...to see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. God knows it felt like an eternity to me.”

Rose wasn’t supposed to move her head, in case she disturbed the sensors, but she couldn’t help looking at her mum’s haunted face. No wonder she had nightmares.

“Waiting is the worst, isn’t it. It’s so difficult to go out there to a patient’s family, when something hasn’t gone the way you’d hoped.” Dr Abrams cleared his throat and looked back at the monitor, humming and holding his chin. “Well, isn’t this curious? Your brain activity looks a little different to me, maybe the sensor isn’t picking up the signals properly.”

Rose sighed. “They said that in Great Ormond Street. You can try again, but it won’t work. They said it must be a unique neurological dysfunction. Just can’t see properly into my head.”

“That’s how we met, actually,” Jerry squeezed her mum’s shoulder fondly. “They needed an electrical engineer to test their power room and some of their equipment as they thought it was faulty. I’d just left the Department for Energy and moved over, you see. So they sent me to take a look at the machine and I found Shirley in the parent’s waiting room.”

“He lingered about in that room for so long I thought he was another parent,” her mum said td. “I was always so nervous in those places, I didn’t even notice he was in overalls and had a toolbelt on!”

They really were an odd couple. Her mother had the outward appearance of a modest woman, but underneath was tough and sharp as steel. Rose’s father had been more easy to laugh and outgoing, with the kind of magnetic personality people were often drawn to, life of the party, pint in hand, cigarette in the other, always surrounded by his friends. Her mum and dad had been opposites that attracted, sparks flying, but with Jerry it was more of a...fizzle. Rose wouldn’t want something that passionless, but then perhaps nice and placid were qualities her mother valued after years of stress. 

“How odd,” the doctor said, looking at the monitor. “I might have to make a call to your old doctor in London. You know what, I have a colleague in Pennhurst who would jump at the chance to examine these results. Maybe even run your interesting brain through a test or two. If you don’t object, I could send him these results for investigation.”

“Pennhurst,” Jerry frowned. “Isn’t that the nuthouse in Kerley County?”

“Pennhurst is a mental hospital, yes,” Dr Abrams said evenly. “But it’s also an esteemed research facility, with a focus on all aspects of the human mind, from the behavioural to the biological. The warden Dr Hatch has a particular interest in neurological conditions, as well as psychology.”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “Those places are for psychopaths, aren’t they? I don’t think that sounds like a good idea.”

Rose cleared her throat loudly, drawing their attention. “Well isn’t it a good job that i’m a legal adult, with full bodily autonomy. If I want to send my scans to a psychologist, then I’ll do it.”

Mum pouted. “I’m only looking out for you, Rosebud.” 

In her eyes, Rose was still thirteen, sickly, and fragile. Not a legal adult who’d been through more than most people her age, perfectly capable of making decisions about her future. It felt like an oppressive kind of love to Rose, one that itched even more than the nylon hospital gown. But whilst she lived under her mum and step dad's roof, she felt almost...powerless. Toothless. Neutered. Okay, perhaps not neutered, goodness knows she was more and more aware of the raging desires burning through her, particularly since she met a certain someone who should not be named. But losing a year of school and living with your mother at soon-to-be nineteen was exhausting.

“Fine,” Rose said, the fight draining right out of her. “Not now. But perhaps next time.”

---

All the way home Rose stared out the window, wiping the fog from the glass with her sleeve, humming a tune that had been stuck in her head for weeks. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it first, but it wouldn’t go away. Da da-da da-da daaa-dum, da-

“Boy, a whole Monday off school,” Jerry said from the driver’s seat. “I know hospital’s aren’t fun, but that’s a bonus, eh? Four day week sounds nice to me.”

“I guess so,” Rose leaned against the steamed-up window, October rolling slowly into chilly, foggy weather. 

Mum caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “More time to sleep off that hangover too.”

“Oh god, not again.”

“I’m all for you bringing friends over to the house, but did you have to get quite so drunk? And on the old playground too? Robin might need a tetanus shot after your shenanigans on the rocket ship.”

Rose’s head throbbed at the memory of her, Robin and Steve climbing into the big climbing frame shaped like a rocket ship after a few too many fruity cocktails, singing Life on Mars at the top of their lungs. Robin had scratched herself on a loose screw, so they had to cut their excursion short and return home, clattering in the kitchen at 2am to find a band-aid and some rubbing alcohol. 

Sunday morning had been hell, but hell was far more fun when you had company. The three of them had hunkered down under a mountain of blankets in her room, nibbling on crackers and sipping ginger ale, until they felt more human again, and Robin was able to return home without alerting her parents to the fact that she’d been drunk.

The very same playground whizzed by the window now, and they pulled into the driveway of 1050 Morehead, though no one in the town called it anything other than Creel House. As they got out of the car and her mother opened the door, she wondered for the first time who the Creel family truly were. What happened to them here? Why did the murder live on in the town’s memory almost thirty years later?

Mum stumbled as she entered the house, clutching her head. Rose leapt forward to help, but when her mother turned around, her face was pale as bone, a trickle of blood seeping from her nose.

“Shit,” Rose hissed.

“It’s nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.

Rose guided her into the kitchen, holding her arm. She’d surpassed her mother in height by the time she was twelve, and now she was startled at how fragile she felt. Mothers were supposed to be there, a constant, as large and warm as life. “Come on Mum, let’s get you cleaned up. I think you should go straight to the doctor, you’re not looking well.”

“It’s just my luck, isn’t it. I felt fine when we were in the hospital, surrounded by medical staff. But the moment I walk through this door...”

Rose ran a cloth under the tap and paused, staring at the swirling water. She had been fine. Tired, perhaps. But not ill. “Here you go,” she said, dabbing away the blood from her face. “Let me get you some painkillers.”

“I think we should take you to the family doctor,” Jerry intervened. “I know you don’t want a fuss, but we need to get you checked out. It’s either that, or we go right back to the hospital and into the ER.”

The threat of an emergency room perked her mother up. “Alright, family doctor it is.”

Jerry opened the front door and guided her out, looking back at Rose. “Are you okay to hold the fort, kiddo?”

Rose wanted to be there, to make sure her mother was well. But she knew deep down that having her child there would only lead to her mother putting on a brave face, and she needed to be Shirley for once, not just mum. 

“Absolutely,” she forced herself to smile. “Won’t burn the place down. Cross my heart.”

The door closed and Rose was left in the grant house, alone. Once the car’s engine faded outside, the silence was a muffled, oppressive thing, making her ears ring. But after a while the tap dripped, boards somewhere creaked, and the place felt almost...alive. 

Alone at home for the first time in...well, possibly ever, Rose looked at the high ceilings, walnut-panelled Victorian interior, and felt what everyone else felt when they looked at the place. Fear. She had no idea where the murders took place or of their nature. Was it here in the kitchen, or were people slaughtered as they slept in their beds upstairs? Did they go quickly, or...or were the walls of this place witness to unimaginable pain and terror? Had there been blood, did it seep into the floorboards? Was it there still, after all these years?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she overcome with the need to be outside. She grabbed a book from the living room table and went out onto the porch, taking refuge on the loveseat by the front door, the walls of the house a thin barrier between Rose and the imagined horrors that lay within.

The leather bindings of the old book bit into her skin. Wuthering Heights. Oh great. She was stuck in the chilly October air without a jacket or even a cardigan, with an eerie gothic novel about lost love, paranoia and a windswept, menacing mansion out on the Yorkshire moors. Why couldn’t it have been Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams, something to make her laugh?

By the time they arrived home, Rose peeled herself front he loveseat with numb fingers and listened intently to the insightful diagnosis from the family doctor: migraines. Take a tylenol and come back if it keeps happening. It made Rose feel powerless, and frustrated. 

Rather than face Jerry’s beige and very questionable attempts in the kitchen, she made their dinner, finding some peace in the repetitive task of chopping and cooking, layering lasagna sheets and sauce, watching the oven absentmindedly and waiting for an egg timer to go off.

“She’s asleep,” Jerry said, leaning against the doorframe. “But I’m sure your mom will love this when she wakes up.”

Rose could hold back no longer, she had to know. “I’ll heat some up whenever she needs it. I...I got to thinking when you were at the doctors. What happened in this house?”

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, kiddo.”

“Maybe, but I’m not asking on a whim. I think I need to know.”

He was as placed and calm as ever, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a floor, four walls, and a roof, like any other house. Look at the hospital we were in today, people die there every day. But it doesn’t make you scared, does it?”

Rose’s eyes narrowed, feeling oddly threatened by his dismissal. Jerry was never like this, he was a goofy idiot, but he was harmless. “Not knowing is worse. I’ll always be wondering and thinking about it, guessing which room, how it happened, or who was killed.”

He folded his arms. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“If you must be like that, then go ahead,” Rose said confidently. “But don’t forget I’m not a child...and I’m not your child.”

Most of the town knew of the Creel House and its backstory; if he wouldn’t tell her, she would find someone else to do it.

“No, you’re not,” Jerry said, masking whatever he was feeling with an impassive face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go check on your mother and get some rest. I need to be at the plant by 5am tomorrow, before the night shift crew finish their shift. The Department’s facilities are having power issues, and we need to tighten the ship before it affects their research.“

In the two years since he arrived in her mother’s life, Rose had never seen him so petty, or act so strange. As she ate alone in the vast dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and staring out the tall window to the playground opposite, she felt a rush of hate for this grand, lofty space. 

It was her mother’s idea to move once Rose had the all clear and her health was back on track. With her and Jerry newly married, their little home was too small for the three of them. WIth Rose out of sync at school and her tentative friends all moved on to university or jobs, many of them moving from town, there was little left to cling onto.

Jerry was offered a promotion with the Department for Energy. When the house was sold, the exchange rate and expensive UK housing market compared to rural central Indiana somehow left them with way more than they’d expected. Enough for the real estate agent to sense her mother would fall in love with the Victorian gothic mansion that no one else would buy, at a dirt cheap price. 

It was strange, to have space, and for them as a family to have spare money. Rose’s father had been a dashing, red-haired Yorkshire coal miner whose love for life and taste for drink never stopped, despite the miner’s strikes putting him out of work in the 70s. He’d taken odd jobs, but there hadn’t been anything stable for years. Rose knew he’d not made life easy for her mother, and it hurt...it hurt whenever she thought of him, despite all the things people had said. All she had ever known was a father who told her stories, and always played games with her even when he was exhausted, when others would have said no. They danced and danced around their little living room listening to his beloved sixties and seventies rock, twirling her around until she was breathless and dizzy, laughing so much she thought she might burst. 

Yes, there had been shouting between her parents and more strife than she could really comprehend at a young age, but life without him was simply dull and colourless. She would rather live in her tiny, cramped two-bed terrace and have him back, than be here in this eerie mansion. But here she was. Eighteen and putting together the beginnings of a new life. Trying to find her tribe out in the world. And even if the house wasn’t home, she had a feeling the people who had become close to her over the last month might just be.

---

The week marchedon, despite missing school on Monday. A drumbeat of classes, American History more interesting than she’d anticipated, others like biology and math frighteningly dull and covering ground she’d already trodden before. The Hellfire guys waved her over at lunch as they always did, but something was...off. Eddie brooded at the head of the table, not engaging in conversation beyond his usual rants about the lack of creativity or personality in the curriculum.

But when Jeremy from the party kids clique turned up to school with a full-blown A Flock of Seagulls haircut - slicked down at the front with crispy, wing-like structures carefully constructed with a full can of hairspray - and Eddie didn’t even mention it? Jeremy who’d put him in detention for smoking in the boys bathroom only two weeks ago? Rose knew something was wrong. She put aside any weirdness she might feel after learning of his potted romantic history, more clear than ever that whilst there had been flirting in the beginning, nothing was truly going to happen between them, and tried to talk to him on Tuesday. But he was sullen and withdrawn, enough for Gareth, Gareth of all people, to tell him to snap out of it and apologise to Rose for being a dick.

On Thursday morning she was paired with Robin in Driver’s Ed, both of them horrifyingly clumsy and dangerous behind the wheel, creating an air of chaos and terror in the car that scared the instructor half to death. Rose couldn’t help it if she had difficulty remembering right from left, she’d always been that way, before the little brush with death.

She emerged on Friday in a great mood, her mum feeling better, the weather cool and crisp, and ready for another Hellfire session and pitting her fledgling necromancer against the Cult of Vecna, the very best part of her Friday’s. Yes, perhaps that was partly due to sitting by Eddie’s side for hours as he became the charismatic Dungeon Master, sweeping them up with his skillful narration, theatrical energy and passion for the game. Why shouldn’t it be? Friends enjoyed each other’s company, didn’t they?

Lunchtime rolled around, and with it came an air of anticipation. Maybe it was the impending session, or the cafeteria splurging out on pizza on a Friday, but there was a definite buzz in the air. Except for Rose, who yawned her way through it, half-listening to their banter.

“I’m telling you, man,” Eddie said confidently at the table’s head. “It’s happening. AD/DC are playing in Indy, Iron Maiden are coming to Evansville...I am going to find tickets if it kills me.”

“You have contacts, right?” Dustin lowered his head, and gave him a knowing look. “Like, people who get you things. Things that are...difficult to come by.”

Eddie scoffed. “Not the kind who sell concert tickets.”

Robin gasped in mock surprise and turned to Dustin. “Dusty bun, are you referring to...drugs? Or is this some kind of comic book thing that will go completely over my head?”

“Dusty bun?” Eddie paused with a slice of pizza inches from his mouth, surrounded by the older guys laughter. “Buckley, have you been holding out on me? Where’d that come from?”

“It’s so cute,” Robin began. “It comes from-”

“No,” Dustin threw his hands up. “Nope, I am not going through this again.”

Eddie’s pizza dropped on the tray, forgotten, and he leaned onto the table. “Oh come on, Dusty bun. No harm meant, man. Ignorant kids think up ignorant names. How else do you think I was dubbed Eddie the Freak?”

Lucas was too eager to spill. “Oh, this wasn’t thought up by a bully. That’s the cutesy nickname his girlfriend has for him. It’s barf-inducing at the best of times, especially when he calls her Suzie-poo. What is she, a poodle?”

Eddie was struck in the heart by cupid’s imaginary arrow, slumping back in his chair and holding his chest. Rose couldn’t stop her sleepy smile, completely charmed by the way he acted out his feelings, by the way he never reacted as people thought he would. She left less tired, and more energised as she watched.

“Love,” Eddie clutched the imaginary arrow in his chest. “Turns off all the rational thought in the brain. Enslaved by the sorcerer that is Cupid, made to do his bidding. Love makes you do the crazy, right?”

Rose’s smile died slowly as her mind kicked into gear. Which of his girlfriends was he thinking of when he monologued about love? Was it the record label girl from California? Was it Chrissy? As the table laughed over Eddie’s joke, she couldn’t help but feel fragile, and defensive on behalf of Dustin...or so she told herself.

“Not really,” she said out loud, without really thinking it through. Eddie looked to her straight away, big brown eyes so wide and deep she thought she’d drown in them, too difficult to look away from. She felt the whole table watching, though she couldn’t quite break away from his eyes, “I don’t think it’s crazy. I think it’s sweet.”

“See?” Dustin said. “This is why none of you have girlfriends, and I do. Girls like emotional vulnerability, and pet names are just one facet of that.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Mike added sullenly.

“And you’re always talking about her or writing her letters...didn’t you even give her the name El?”

Mike thought about it for a minute. “I suppose.”

Chris’ mouth was dropped open again. “Suzie-poo I get, but how do you go from Jane to El?”

“No reason,” Mike laughed nervously. “No reason at all, just thought it...suited her.”

Eddie snapped his fingers at his friend. “See, case-in-point. Who comes up with the nickname El for a girl named Jane? Chris is right, it’s weird. Hence, driven by the mushy, goo-brained beast that is love. Come on, Rose, back me up on this one. I bet your boyfriends have given you all kinds of mushy names.”

She sank lower in her chair, but there was no hope of disappearing. She thought of all the lovely things that came from Eddie’s mouth, the ‘Sweetheart’s’ and even the occasional ‘Princess’, or one memorable ‘baby’. She hoped it would feel like that, one day, if she ever found someone who actually liked her back. “I haven’t had any. Boyfriends, I mean, not pet names...aside from Mum calling me Rosebud. I can’t even blame it on being sick...I think I'm just too awkward. I put my foot in it with everyone I ever meet.”

Oh great. Eddie’s eyes widened even further. Stupid, charming doe-eyes, making her feel inadequate yet again. 

“You’re kidding, right? How is that even possible? You’re so...” he trailed off, chin propped on his hand. Their eyes were locked, all the noise in the room faded away, and she suddenly didn’t care what the end of the sentence was, as long as she could look at him like this forever.

Jeff prodded Eddie's arm, which made him snap to attention. “Rose. I mean, you’re so Rose. There’s no one else like you. I mean, kind and nice, and uh, one could say you were objectively pretty. You know, to some people, who are into that kind of thing.”

He was stumbling now, and the whole table knew it. Something weird happened to Dustin, whose face transformed from passive listening, to a little confusion with his brow puckered and head tilted to the side, and then his entire face lit up and mouth dropped open. Lucas casually elbowed him in the ribs and he hissed in pain, distracting everyone for a moment and giving Eddie and Rose a second to recover.

Robin nudged her knee under the table, and gave her a little nod, like she was about to save the day. What was it with prodding and jabbing today? Did everyone just wake up and decide on minor violence?

Robin began to speak. “Oh, don’t let her fool you. There was this one guy, right? Good kisser, kind of crazy about you, but-”

Rose kicked Robin’s foot, stopping her mid sentence. Yes, she’d told Robin all about Simon the Skinhead from the pub back home, but that entire fling was only fleeting, and it wasn’t the kind of story she wanted coming out at the lunch table. Besides, they’d only snogged a few times behind the back of the Nag’s Head, until both of his front teeth were knocked out in a bare knuckle boxing match. Rose liked to think she hadn’t stopped it just for that reason - she wasn’t superficial, though his smile was much harder to look at afterward - it was more that he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. A dangerous one. And that was months before she’d left for America.

Robin shrugged and mouthed sorry, taking a big crunch of her apple as a blatant distraction, chewing slowly and avoiding eye contact. 

Great. Now the whole of Hellfire was awkward and silent. Or in Dustin, Mike and Lucas’ case, giving each other knowing looks and whispering, eyes still focused on Eddie and Rose.

Thankfully a hand emerged from nowhere, slapping down a pastel pink flyer on the empty space in the table’s centre, between Eddie’s Dr Pepper and Jeff’s lunch tray.

“It’s the end of the goddamn world,” Gareth announced loudly, stood behind the younger guys, his arm thrust between Dustin and Lucas’ heads. Rose flinched, Robin dropped the apple, and the younger guys squealed. 

“What the hell?” Jeff asked, snatching the flyer. “A Streetcar named Desire. Are you joining drama club now Gareth? Who are you gonna audition for, the sister? I knew all those Hellfire sessions playing the princess or the tavern wench would pay off eventually.”

“Fuck off, man,” he said defensively, dropping into his usual seat by Eddie, a bundle of ripped plaid, black denim, combat boots and attitude. “Just keep reading.”

Jeff mumbled to himself, until his face fell. “Oh man, oh no...how did we miss this?”

“I don’t know,” Gareth sighed. “But I stopped off at Ms Click’s class just to be sure. It’s happening tonight, for the next three weeks.”

Eddie had been staring blankly at the table, and sat up suddenly, ripping the flyer from Jeff’s hand. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What is it?” Rose asked. “I can't take the suspense, what’s happening? Do we not like the works of Tennessee Williams? I have thoughts...he’s no Noël Coward, but his plays aren’t that bad.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “The drama club needs the prop room until Thanksgiving, for rehearsals and the play itself. Goddamn it, all our stuff is there, the chair, my goblet...you know what I'm like without ambience, man. I can’t do Hellfire in Gareth’s garage again.”

Groans and curses echoed around the table, like it was indeed the end of the world. Rose and Robin exchanged a look of disbelief, but it was Mike who pointed his finger in the air and came to the rescue.

“My basement! We used to play D&D all day there in middle school. It’s dark and downstairs-”

“Duh,” Gareth mocked.

“Yeah, that might work,” Lucas added. “It’s kind of cosy. And Mrs Wheeler makes the best pizza rolls.”

Eddie gave him a scathing look. “I appreciate it, Wheeler, I really do. But didn’t you say your Mom is kind of uptight? Does she know you hang around with a bunch of scary, satan-worshipping seniors and Eddie the freak Munson?”

“She doesn’t exactly know,” Mike deflated, flopping onto the lunch table like he was suddenly removed of his spine. “And she wasn’t too happy about Nancy and I being involved in the whole mall fire thing; she grounded me until sophomore year, in theory at least.”

Eddie’s smile was bitter. “I don’t want to be the source of drama in suburbia, so we'll have to think again. I appreciate the offer though.”

Chris, silent thus far, closed his gaping mouth and added his own idea. “We could just steal the props we normally use and take Hellfire to another classroom for three weeks, couldn’t we?”

“They need the chair and table for the play,” Gareth said, crushing their hopes. “And I don’t think the classrooms will be up to our Dungeon Master’s exacting standards. Plus, they’re locked.”

The seed of an idea was blooming in Rose’s mind. She watched throw out a dozen different ideas and shoot them all down, and worked up the courage to add her own. “We could have Hellfire at my house.”

Eddie caught on first, attuned to her whenever she spoke, brows coming together in a frown. No one else had noticed.

Rose cleared her throat and tried again, louder. “I said, you could have Hellfire at my place. Everything inside is either crumbling apart, or properly restored to its former Victorian splendour. Lots of big fireplaces, candles, cobwebs...you know, the full haunted house experience.”

“It’s perfect,” Dustin said, beaming a great big smile. “Sounds even better than the drama room.”

Eddie hummed, toying with the ring on his right hand, the one with the black stone. “Won’t your parents be there?”

“I can ask them to go out for the day. Jerry’s been dying to visit this antique fair in Cartersville. It would be just us for most of the day. We could even do it on Halloween next Saturday, ” Rose gave him a meaningful stare, and did a dramatic gesture like she’d just remembered something. “Oh, that’s right, only if you actually can come inside. I know how selective you are about whose home you will come into...like a vampire without an invitation. Is it too scary for you, Munson?”

The tension crackled all the way across the table, everyone looking from left to right, waiting for him to respond. Eddie’s eyes were wickedly dark, even in the harsh cafeteria light. His smile was wicked too, teeth biting into his bottom lip, half way between a grimace and a grin. Touche, she thought. 

“There is very little that scares me, sweetheart,” he said evenly. “But I gather the house in question gets a lot of traffic these days, doesn’t it? Lots of people coming to and fro. Are you sure there is room for us lowly freaks next Saturday? Can you fit us into your busy social calendar?”

What the hell? Rose had no clue what he was even talking about. Eddie had left last Friday night, and she’d not seen him again until three days ago. 

“I won’t be coming, that’s for sure,” Robin interrupted, sensing the awkwardness. “Not that I am in Hellfire, or wanna play the dungeon game whatsoever. But I can’t look at your place without feeling sick, and the memory coming back from last week. I drove by with my parents on Tuesday and I had to fake car sickness just looking at the swings. And I’m never car sick.”

Rose was focused on Eddie alone, watching the twitch of his full lips, his narrowing eyes, knowing that something was going on, but clueless as to what. “So are we on, Dungeon Master? You’ll dare to come in?”

He let the tense silence drag on for a second, leaning forward on his forearm, the zip-chain on his jacket clanking on the table. “You bet we are, McAllister. Next Saturday. One PM. It’ll be the mid-point of the Cult of Vecna campaign, the one I've been planning for months. The adventure should be a long and agonising one, so prepare for it.”

Rose nodded, and the shrill school bell broke the tension around the table. Hellfire may be disrupted, but it looked like she had to play host, and Eddie might break that promise to enter her house after all. She wondered what had changed his mind, if anything had happened with Chrissy, or whoever else it might involve. Perhaps it wasn’t her place to know.

---

Three o’clock had her wandering the parking lot, working what to do with a few spare hours now that Hellfire was cancelled. Jerry was due to pick her up at seven, straight from a shift at work. Mum wasn’t home. She could get the bus home, but the thought of unlocking the door to that empty house, and spending several hours alone in it, wasn’t a pleasant one. Maybe she could go to the public library or Family Video, and pester Robin and Steve for a while.

Instead, her weary feet took her across the football field and on to the well-trodden path to the woods, crunching over leaves, stepping into the clearing. Empty. She sat at the picnic table and traced the little drawings of bats with her fingers, remembering the last time she was here, a couple of weeks ago. The near-kiss, the butterflies, the mixtape.

She pulled out her English notebook with the intention of studying, but her heart led her to the Charlotte Bronte novel hidden deep in her bag. Jane Eyre, her comfort blanket, which she’d read more times than she could count. Despite the allure of Jane and Mr Rochester’s fiery proposal scene, moments later found herself yawning and resting her cheek against the page. Just for a second, huddling in her scarf for warmth in the autumn air, lying gently on the book. Just a second.

“...no, Jeremy, I am not going to hook you up with my supplier. I told you, this is what’s on offer.”

Eddie’s voice drifted through the trees, stirring her awake. His voice was nice. So nice.

“Come on, Munson. If you have ket, don’t you have a little coke? Just this once?”

“No can do. If you don’t like it, you can go to Cartersville and find another dealer. I know a few guys that hang out at the biker bar on Sycamore Road, but they carry.”

“Guns?”

Eddie scoffed. “Did you think I meant candy or something? And they’re not particularly friendly to guys like yourself, who think they just stepped out or Risky Business. Come on, Jeremy, it’s October. You don’t need sunglasses. And that blazer looks freakin’ cold.”

The other, nasal voice must belong to this Jeremy. A name she recognised, one of the party kids who sat opposite Hellfire’s lunch table and gave them hell. Eddie in particular.

“Look, if you can’t do coke, then ket will do.”

“Not at school,” Eddie said firmly, with none of the gentleness she’d come to know from him. “Weed is one thing, but I can’t exactly hide ket in my lunch box, can I?”

“Wait...what the hell? Who's the random chick?” Jeremy called out.

She stirred fully from sleep, her brain whirring quickly to keep up. “Eddie?” Her voice was croaky.

He was running over to her, a hand pressed against her back, his concerned face hovering over her. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Shit. Shit. She’d not seen a drug deal before, but it wasn’t a good idea to get in the middle of one, was it? “Sorry. I don’t know what happened, I was just resting my eyes...and I've just taken over your spot, I'm sorry, I can get out of your way.”

Jeremy took off his oversized glasses and squinted at her. “That the new chick? I don’t want anyone else knowing about this conversation, Munson. If she talks-”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said to her, under his breath. “Just trust me.” Then he quickly reared back and crossed the clearing, full of intimidating energy, until he had Jeremy the party kid pinned up against a tree.

“No one is talking, Jeremy. Not me, the drug dealer, or you, the buyer. Who the hell are you going to talk to, the cops? The principal? And if we’re not talking, the completely unrelated bystander sat at a table in the woods, who just slept through our conversation, definitely isn’t. Understood?”

“Jesus,” the guy choked out. “Understood.”

“And if you so much as look in her direction, i’ll make sure no one in central Indiana sells to you again. I’m not so sure you’ll get through finals and into that fancy college without a serious quantity of uppers, or at least that’s what the gossips say about you at school. Are you a gossip, Jeremy?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, sunglasses dropped to the forest floor. “I’ll catch you another time, man.”

Eddie smiled a toothy grin and tapped him on the cheek. “Good. Now get out of here, shop’s closed for the day.”

Jeremy fled without his sunglasses, a blur of navy blazer and his bouncy Flock of Seagulls hair flapping in the wind, disappearing back in the direction of the school. Eddie took a deep breath, sagging just a little, like the adrenaline had worn off and he couldn’t keep up an intimidating posture.

“I’m sorry,” Rose tried to stand up, knocking her knee on the picnic table and hissing in pain. “This is your spot. It’s only fair that I go.”

“Wait,” he rushed over, black lunch pail dropped on the table. He grabbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up, like he was struggling for words. “I should be sorry. This is a public place, and I don’t want to get you involved in any of that shit. He’s chicken shit, by the way. There’s nothing he could do or say that could get you into trouble, not without admitting he’s been using a serious amount of class A drugs just to get through senior year.”

Rose scrubbed her face with her hand, feeling totally awake and alert. “Thank you. That was...you didn’t need to put yourself in any trouble for me. He won’t come after you, will he?”

Eddie pulled a face of disbelief, his smile returning in full force, brushing her concern away with his hands, flapping around like an awkward idiot. “Jeremy? No way. He might throw a few insults my way at lunch, but that’s the extent of his power. You, milady, are totally safe.”

“Good,” she sighed.

He cocked his head, looking over her books, her position at the table, her rumpled hair. “What are you doing out here in the cold, anyways? Couldn’t get a ride home with...um...anyone else? Not Robin and, uh, Steve?”

“They’re working. I did think about going to Family Video for a while, but I just wanted some space to just be. And Robin and Steve are kind of full on.”

He shifted from one foot to another, jean chain jangling. “Right. Do...do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, I came to your spot, didn’t I?”

Eddie looked around for a minute, and dropped on the bench opposite her. “Yeah, you did. And why is that, exactly? Not that I mind at all, I just...after the cafeteria, I did think I might not be your favourite person right now.”

Rose frowned. “It’s not that, not at all. I came here to study English, actually, but was led astray by Charlotte Bronte.”

Eddie poked at the cover. “She any good?”

She cleared her throat and spoke aloud, voice tinged with the emotion those words always made her feel: “ Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart!”

Eddie was taken aback. “Damn, that was good. You didn’t even read that from the page!”

“Jane Eyre is kind of my hero,” she looked down at the table, tracing the outline of Eddie’s drawn bats with her fingertips yet again. “She’s invisible, but she pushes through it to find her strength, her courage.”

“Invisible, huh,” Eddie said, with sincere doubt. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It wasn’t,” Rose replied without thinking. “But I don’t think I am anymore.”

“Yeah, definitely not. Highly visible, in a good way, I mean...ugh, I should just stop now. But I’ve gotta say, sleeping outside in the woods isn’t a good idea, even if you were invisible. You don’t know what’s lurking out there,” he gestured to the trees, shrouded in gloom just before sunset.

“I’ve not been sleeping well. I must have become a bit too tired. ”

Eddie's concern was genuine, and he leaned toward her. “Everything okay? I heard you were at the hospital on Monday for tests. That’s gotta be tough, with the amount of time you’ve spent there over the years. Like being back in the war zone, you know? Shellshocked, or something? Or at least that’s what Uncle Wayne calls it, and he was in Vietnam.”

Rose could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She was touched that he’d remembered, that he’d thought about her during the week, and put himself in her shoes long enough to pinpoint exactly what she was feeling. “I’ve had better weeks.”

He could sense the stress behind her words, she just knew it. “And a free afternoon studying the works of Edgar Allen Poe in the woods was just the thing to top it off? ”

“Poe is very cathartic,” she defended quickly, coming alive again. “I thought you would like his work, it fits with the whole anti-establishment, metal vibe you have going on.”

His smile was blinding. “Oh really? Maybe I haven’t had the best teacher. O’Donnell isn’t exactly inspiring. Hence why I'm still here, seeking that Holy Grail of graduation, the D of destiny.”

“I could help you,” Rose picked at her sleeve. “If English is key to graduating, why not call in a high level spellcaster to help you make it through the adventure?”

“Wait,” he said slyly. “Offering to tutor me and using D&D language to do it? Am I asleep? Is it me that’s napping at the table, and this is all a dream?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, her heart light because they were getting on again. “I can get you more than a D, Munson. I think a B minus is achievable.”

“Woah, woah, don’t aim for the stars, sweetheart. Munson’s don’t get that far.”

The idea that his opinion of himself was so low, that he made jokes and projected his lack of confidence in such a way, was so uncomfortable it almost caused her physical pain.

“You’re the only Munson I know, and you are more than capable,” she said confidently. “This is the mind behind the Cult of Vecna, and all of our other campaigns. You have no idea how much Dustin and the guys love those campaigns. They worship you, and they are incredibly smart. Annoyingly so. If you don’t believe me, believe in their good judgement.”

Eddie blushed, cheeks darkening as he ducked his head and dimpling as he smiled. “Okay. Can’t argue with that logic.”

“Do you want to go to the school library some time, or...” Rose paused; she could see his unease at the very thought of the building behind them, and remembered his agitated state in English class last week, like he couldn’t function under the bright lights and with the drone of O’Donnell’s voice. “Or somewhere else. I’d offer my place but I know it might not be ideal. Maybe...maybe yours?”

His mouth popped open. “You want to come to my place?”

“Yes. If it’s okay. I don’t want to presume.”

“No,” Eddie looked smug. “I get it, the allure of the Forest Hills Trailer Park is too strong for you to resist. You can come over sometime, Ms McAllister. As long as you don’t have anyone that would be bothered by it.”

Rose scrunched up her nose. Did he still think her parents were uppity, high class kind of people, just because of the square footage of her house? It was big, yes, but it was dirt cheap. And there was nothing posh about her or her family, so no trailer park was beneath her, or whatever he seemed to be implying.

“First of all, never call me Ms McAllister again,” she pointed a finger near his face, causing him to laugh and hide behind his own curtain of hair. “Second, no one is going to be bothered. Except Dustin, who probably will be terribly jealous that anyone is spending time with you outside of school, because he loves you desperately.”

“Stop,” Eddie swatted her hand away playfully. “You make it sound so embarrassing.”

“No. It’s sweet. He adores you and wants to be you. Honestly, with those high powered walkie talkies he has going on, he may be bugging your house. Or at least biking over to the trailer park and looking longingly through the window with binoculars as you practice guitar or write up campaigns.”

“This is getting so weird.”

Laughter bubbled up from her chest, warm and sweet as honey. “He likes having you as a role model, that’s all. He sees the good in you. And I have to admit, Dustin is not often wrong about facts or people, as much as I would occasionally like him to be.”

Eddie moaned, slapping his forehead. “I forgot. After lunch he cornered me in the hall, asking if we could finish Hellfire early next Saturday so he can go Trick or Treating. He’s fifteen. Fifteen.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Mmm. It’s the way people suddenly get this licence to be interesting and act scary, that’s what irritates me. Like they’re different people for one night, just because normative society dictates it. Costumes, though...costumes I get.”

“So why don’t combine Hellfire and costumes, so he doesn’t miss out?” Rose asked. He raised a brow, looking sceptical, but she ploughed on. “No, wait. Not ghosts or witches. We could dress as our characters. What could be more atmospheric than that? Come on, you know it’s a good idea.”

He thought about it hard. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. I guess I can bring Eddie the Bard to life for a night. But for now, carriage duties. Let’s get you home.”

---

Rose had never seen so much paisley and tie-dye in her life. Boxes upon boxes of clothes in shades of orange-brown, acres upon acres of plaid shirts, and endless racks of capes and flared jackets, the kind that her grandmother would have worn. The thrift store was a huge, cavernous store behind Main Street, full of items donated by the people of Kerley County, sold on at cheap prices. There were stained and faded couches that were nonetheless comfortable, old fashioned sideboards, retro drinks cabinets, and crockery and homeware in great big stacks. Books, too, and Rose had a dog-eared romance paperback under one arm ready to pay at the counter once she was done, lured in by the shirtless hunk dressed in nothing but a kilt on the cover and the promise of a clandestine, bodice-ripping romance. But her target today was the great big section of the store dedicated to second hand clothes.

She spied a scrap of ivory beneath a pinstripe skirt and pulled out a peasant blouse, the crinkled sleeves and body gathered at the top, floaty and feminine. She held it up to her body. It had a certain Medieval air to it, one she enjoyed.

“What do necromancer’s wear, anyway?” Robin called, emerging from a coat rack. “Ooh, that’s pretty, you look like you just came from a rendezvous with a stable boy. Oh my gosh...is that...is that straw in your hair?” She teased, so convincing that Rose actually put her hand to her head tocheck.

Rose groaned. “Robin!”

Her friend’s laugh was throaty and contagious. “I can’t help it, you’re too gullible.”

“I don’t know” Rose toyed with the ruched neckline which dipped where it laced up at the front, working out where it might sit on her chest. “I think it might be too low. Waaay too low.”

Robin threw on a fur coat, striking a dramatic pose and putting on a Transatlantic accent like an old movie star. “If it’s the scar you’re worried about, don’t be, darling. I have stretch marks pretty much the same size, and I don’t give a damn.”

“Alright, Scarlett O-Hara. Wait, are you sure you’re not auditioning for Blanche Dubois right now? Are you secretly in the drama club?”

“Oh please. I can’t be contained and made to remember lines. I’m au naturel. You should get the shirt, but isn’t your character, like, on the cusp of being evil?”

“You’re right, it’s not evil enough” Rose said, folding the blouse up and turning back to the clothing racks with a huff. “She’s a sorceress with a dark and twisted power, hell bent on revenge for her family’s death and learning necromancy to bring them back to life. Oh, and she wears light armour.”

“Hmm. Not sure ‘light armour’ is a category in the thrift store. ‘Lightly stained’, maybe.”

lHey there, Ladies,” a deep voice announced right at their backs. “Shouldn’t you two broads be back in the saloon serving whiskey?”

A figure popped up behind them, cowboy hat lowered and covering his face, foot propped up on a box. He raised the rim of the hat and Rose’s heart rate slowed down.

“Steve?!” Robin brandished a coat hanger as a makeshift weapon, hyperventilating. “When did you get so stealthy?”

He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “God, sorry. I’ll make more noise next time. But look at this hat? What do you think, am I cowboy material?”

“I can see that, actually,” Rose added. “You’d make a good authority figure, protecting the town from rogue gunslingers. The hat looks perfect for the keg party on Saturday you keep going on about. You might be able to rope in some broads whilst you’re there. Or cows...or horses...what do they even catch with the rope-thing?”

Steve raised his brows, “Cattle. Come on, I thought you were smart. But wait...do you really think I should wear this to Kyle’s party? Bianca might be there, and I was this close to dating her last year, she was all over me after the Nancy thing ended. Maybe Bianca likes herself a rugged cowboy.”

“No, Steve!” Robin cried loudly. “That is not keg party material! I know you got invited to the ‘biggest party of senior year’ when you’ve already graduated and we, the actual seniors, are not even a lowly rung on the social hierarchy and have no invite whatsoever, but can you stop rubbing salt in that wound already?”

“Geez,” Steve whined. “I was going to invite you. Apparently Tammy Thompson is going. Tammy who, you know...” he dropped into a terribly un-subtle whisper. “Who you spent a significant amount of time crushing over in sophomore year.”

Robin shook her head vigorously, shaking off the fur coat. “Nope, nu-uh. I’m not fifteen any more, Stevie. I’ve grown past this particular crush.”

“Oh, well some of your band geeks are going to be there too.”

Robin shrugged. “Maybe. Can I ditch early if it sucks?”

“Fine,” Steve said, resigned. “I guess authority figures have to stay sober to protect the townsfolk, or whatever. Rose, the invite is open to you too.”

There were very few, or specifically no parties like this in her past. By the time she was well enough to attend one and back in school at home, everyone was old enough to drink legally, and the need for clandestine gatherings had shrivelled away. “I would like that,” she admitted. “I watched so many teen movies before I moved over, and every one of them ends in some kind of raging keg party where parents mysteriously go out of town for the night and kids trash the house. I always thought...if I was invited to something like that, everything would be okay. I’d have made friends. Gone through the whole quintessential high school experience.”

Steve was shocked. “That’s horrifyingly sad, you know that? I’m about to shed a tear here. Now you have to come so we can fulfil your childhood dreams. Tomorrow, eight o’clock?”

Rose slammed the table, tipping over a box of scarves. “Dammit, I have to stay home tomorrow. My mum’s not well, I need to look after her. Jerry’s working a night shift at the plant, again.”

“There will be other parties,” Robin promised. “It’s only October. Just wait until spring, Hawkins will be one series of keggers after the other, and we’ll go to them all if you like.”

Rose grinned. “Next time, count me in. Now, for the bigger challenge. I have to find clothes worthy of a necromancer for less than twenty bucks from a thrift store.”

“Well,” Steve picked up a heap of corduroy and held it far away from his body. “If it helps, I think someone may have died in these pants. Maybe they were resurrected in them too?”

Robin squealed and ducked down, bringing up a box from underneath the table, her new bangs just visible over the top and she held it aloft. “Oh my god, I may have just found the answer to all your problems. Look!”

The box was still taped up, but on the side, someone had written in loopy script: Rocky Horror Picture Show, Hawkins Amateur Dramatic Society, ‘82.

---

“Be sensible, Rosebud,” Mum said, about to step into the car. “I know you said your book club friends aren’t the partying type, but you’re teenagers alone in a big house. Things are bound to get a bit rowdy.”

“Mum!” Rose groaned. “It’s not a book club, it’s a fantasy game, played by a bunch of comic-book and fantasy-novel loving teenage nerds. That starts at one o’clock in the afternoon. Just how rowdy do you think it could get?”

“Hmm. There are plenty of sandwiches and crisps, and money for pizza if you want it. No alcohol this time, given Dustin and his friends are a bit too young for that. I also left lots of chocolate and sweets in the basket by the door. Try to save some for the trick-or-treaters, won’t you dear? Claudia said there will be lots of them, so I may have gone a bit overboard.”

Rose’s mum Shirley had befriended Claudia Henderson in the grocery store, last week, her first new friend in Hawkins, bonding over raising children with various health issues as single mothers. Claudia had filled her in on the town, the goings on at school, and just how good and sensible Dustin and his friends were. That worked wonders when Rose asked if Mum and Jerry could vacate the house for Halloween for a Hellfire gathering. When she learned that Dustin could perform CPR and had a first aid certificate from his science camp, the deal was sealed, the house freed up for a full day for Rose and her friends.

“We won’t trash the place, promise,” Rose waved and plastered a smile on her face, stifling a laugh as Mum and Jerry pulled out of the driveway and off to Cartersville. It was eleven o’clock, and by Rose’s reckoning she had twelve hours before they were back. Two full hours before the guys were due to arrive. 

She’d been waiting for this moment for a full week, enduring school, planning the night in her head, hoping desperately that Eddie would actually arrive, worrying that he might disappear at the last minute. 

Facing down her anxiety she put on her walkman, danced up and down the house to Michael Jackson and made the place fit for the Cult of Vecna. The cheap plastic cobweb packs from Melvald’s General Store were broken open, and she wove the fake stuff around the light fittings, stair bannisters, and on the mirrors and paintings on the walls. Every candle they’d ever owned was brought out, the more melted and twisted looking the better, littering every surface, wax dribbled onto surfaces she knew she would wipe clean.

The hallway with its impressive fireplace and sweeping stairs were decorative enough, but the dining room was the focus of her energy, the location of the campaign. Usually, the table felt ridiculous for the three of them, but now she loved that it could easily sit ten. A crimson-red tablecloth was draped over the top, candelabra in the centre, and so much fake cobweb around the room that you’d think Shelob was nesting in the corners above the ornate panelled bookcases. In comparison the kitchen table groaned with snacks, enough to sate the bellies of a dozen teenage adventurers on a quest to vanquish a dark necromancer. 

The bloody terrifying mannequins that were in the cellar when they bought the place were placed strategically in windows to look like shadowy figures, draped in old hats and coats to give them a spooky, realistic outline. When she stepped outside into the yard by midday and looked over at her handiwork, she was delighted. It truly looked like a horror house. 

The contents of her wardrobe played on her mind, and even a brisk, chilly shower couldn’t calm her down. She tiptoed around in a towel and emptied the outfit from its bag onto her bed, the leather gleaming and catching her eye. 

The thrift store had yielded a fruitful haul. Next to the medieval-looking peasant blouse, lay a leather corset in deepest brown, a racy thing meant for a Rocky Horror Picture Show revival, with a scandalously low bustline, proper steel boning and eyehooks, and black silk ribbons laced up at the back. When paired with the leather wrist cuffs that went halfway to elbow, she reckoned it might just pass for leather armour. Yes, it was a bit too sexy for a real pair of bracers and a cuirass, but it fit the D&D vibe, at least in her eyes. Plus, wearing the peasant shirt beneath it would cover the sheer abundance of cleavage that she’d been embarrassed to see when she tried the thing on.

With the outfit laced up until she could just about breathe, knee high leather boots and a mid-length skirt, and her hair loosely braided with one or two curls escaping at the front, she truly felt like Lady Ceverra, the neutral-chaotic Cleric and fledgling necromancer.

It might only have been early afternoon, but Rose was busy setting a fire in the dining room hearth, until the soothing crackle of burning logs and the thick scent of woodsmoke filled the air. She was running around with a lit taper when the doorbell rang, and she took a deep breath, adjusting her hair and answering the door with a lit candle in one hand, and faint wisps of smoke around her.

“Who knocks at my castle door during this hour?” She said loudly, in a theatrical voice. “A pack of adventurers, I see. Come in, there is meat and mead at my table.”

All the guys were crowding around and she could see Eddie’s van parked on the drive, her heart racing instantly. But he must have been behind someone else, or getting out the vehicle.

Dustin’s open-mouthed grin was contagious. “Wow. You look freaking awesome. Wait, do you really have mead?”

“No, dummy. There’s Dr Pepper, root beer, or Mountain Dew.”

“Oh, nice,” he replied, holding up a big carved pumpkin. “We brought pumpkins, as requested. Your mom mentioned to my mom that she didn’t have any, so we all brought one. This place is freaking wild, man. It’s going to look amazing with so many pumpkins on the porch.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves on the way in,” Rose said, stepping to one side. 

Dustin came in first, with a rugged cloak, leather satchel instead of a backpack, and pan-pipes, slung around his shoulder. “Nog at your service,” he bowed. “Half dwarf bard, whose enchanted pipes play a tune as sweet as honeyed-wine.”

“Welcome, good bard.” Rose dipped into a curtsey.

Mike’s paladin knight came next, with a sword and shield that looked really convincing, but turned out to be plastic. “Lady Ceverra, this house kicks ass. I always wanted to come inside when it was a wreck, but now it looks like something from the movies.”

“Thank you, good sir.”

“Yeah,” Lucas added behind him. “Better than the prop room by a long shot.”

He drew back the string of a wooden bow, pretending to aim, though the quiver of arrows was still on his back. His outfit was the best yet, like something from a Renaissance fair, quartered red and green, with a shirt, jacket and a cap that looked almost real. When paired with the bow, the leather band around his forehead and the slingshot tucked into his pocket, he looked like he meant business.

“Nice pun, Sir ranger.”

“Sundar the Bold,” he replied. “Yeah, it’s supposed to be Robin Hood. Mom got it for me a couple of years back, but we went as Ghostbusters instead that year."

Chris was next, with something that looked like a sheepskin rug fastened around his shoulders and a sledge hammer at his side. “Thordus Boulderbash, whose hammer could cleave the very mountains in two.”

“Impressive,” Rose gave her verdict. “Like Gimli come to life.”

Chris blushed a little; he’d always had trouble talking to her one on one, his wariness of girls in general making it hard to speak to her without the context of a group conversation or something to focus on like the game of D&D itself. But she was pleased to note he went inside with a smile on his face, and not a nervous one.

The rest of the older guys had lingered at the back, and it took all of Rose’s energy to focus on Gareth as he came through the door, and not look back to seek out Eddie’s mop of hair in the background. 

“Sup,” Gareth said casually, leaning against the doorframe in a hooded cloak. “Illian the Unvanquished", half-elf Paladin and Champion of the Lost Lands. But then you already knew that. Can I go and see the murder house now?”

“Don’t mind him,” Jeff clapped his buddy on the shoulder, stepping inside with a tall gnarled branch like a wizard’s staff, with a plastic-looking gem embedded in the top. “He’s not properly house trained.”

“The place is cool thanks for having us,” Gareth mumbled, shrugging Jeff off. “Just remember, we’re not children here for Halloween, this is a serious endeavour. Let’s get set up.”

Jeff shook his head. “My spellcaster Zaegor is gonna have to kick Ilian’s ass tonight. I think he’s just hungry. Maybe he’ll be better after some Halloween candy.”

“We have lots of that,” Rose reassured. “And enough food to feed the whole of Hawkins. Go ahead, the kitchen is straight past the fireplace and staircase, the second door on the right, after the dining room.”

Then she turned to the open door again, and was left face to face with a figure that may as well have been summoned from a romance or gothic horror story. 

Eddie wore a flouncy, loose white shirt fathered at the wrist, and left unlaced at the top, showing off acres of his beautiful, muscular neck, and the beginnings of the tattoos at the top of his chest. On top of the shirt he wore a leather duster jacket, the kind that was almost floor-length. His Reeboks were replaced with leather boots, and his black jeans today didn’t have holes. He carried an old acoustic guitar, one that definitely wasn’t his precious Warlock. The whole ensemble was deceptively simple, but stunning in its effect on Rose.

“Milady,” he took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. His soft, full lips, surprisingly warm...lips she could imagine in many, many other places, until her heartbeat morphed into an awful, beautiful kind of throbbing that settled low in her body, in places it really shouldn’t settle with a bunch of freshmen roaming the house. 

“You’re here,” she said stupidly. “I mean, you made the decision to come inside. I hope you won’t regret breaking the promise.”

His eyes clouded over and he stood up, but still kept her hand in his. “Yeah, well Eddie Munson may not be able to enter, but Eddie the Bard is bound to no such promise.”

“A loophole. How ingenious of you.”

They stood there grinning and holding hands, until Rose realised the source of all the drama and dropped it like a stone; by being here, was he upsetting Chrissy, or whoever else he’d made this promise to? Despite feeling thrilled by his presence in her house, she felt bad for a mysterious person who might be hurt because of it.

Eddie swallowed hard, eyes flicking all over the place. “You look, uh...”

“Ridiculous?”

“Like you just stepped out of a fantasy novel. You should be on horseback, wielding a sword, or something.”

Her skin flushed, and she fidgeted with her hands. “I...I was just thinking the same of you. Very Anne Rice.”

He leaned against the doorframe languidly. “Oh, like a vampire? Does that mean I have to ask permission to enter the mansion?”

“Come in,” Rose said immediately. “It’s not as glamorous as you make it sound. On the left is the parlour and the living room, on the right the kitchen and dining room and pantry. The bathroom is down the hall. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous that it has a parlour. It’s not like I sit around all day drinking tea and...okay, yes I do sit around all day drinking tea, but mostly in my room.”

He explored the place with wide eyes and gangly legs, almost knocking over a row of lit candles, and Rose trailed after him, reminding herself where the fire extinguisher was just in case.

They walked through the kitchen where the boys were congregating around the snack table, and Eddie gasped upon seeing the open archway to the dining room.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie chanted in a sing-song voice. “This is fucking perfect. Creepy, fancy, but also kind of derelict, like the place could fall apart at any given moment. Yep, I feel the ambience, Rosie, I feel it. This is going to be a good night.”

She frowned. “It’s one o’clock.”

He made a beeline for the head of the table, and the chair she’d set up as his throne. On top of the crimson tablecloth, behind the candelabra, lay his goblet.

Eddie gasped. “What the hell! I thought this was locked away tighter than Principal Higgin’s integrity. How is it here?”

“I know someone who knows someone,” Rose said with a smug smile. “Quite literally. Robin is old friends with Beth in drama club, she retrieved the goblet on Wednesday. Give Robin a secret mission and she is all over it. Obsessed. She even gave it a code name.”

Eddie was amused. “What was the code name?”

“Project Elixir.”

“Oooh, I like it. Are you sure she doesn’t want to join Hellfire?”

Rose snorted with laughter, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. “She’s not really one for fantasy.”

“Oh my god, I just spotted a skull. A skull!” Eddie was like a kid at Christmas, examining the gruesome prop on the side table, with its jaw wide open, sat on top of the bowl of candies. 

“Oh, that little old thing?” Rose tried to look cool by leaning back on the walnut panelling, and almost fell over, grasping to hold herself upright. “That’s Yorick. I stole him from a hospital when I was fourteen, on a dare.”

“That’s so fucking metal.”

He turned back to the table and shucked off his leather coat, draping it over the creepy mannequin in the corner. He leaned back in the chair with the nonchalance of an aristocrat, holding the goblet aloft and hooking one leg casually over the chair’s arm. 

“I’m feeling it. I am so feeling it. Fetch the minions,” he told Rose with swagger. “The Cult of Vecna calls for their leader to return, and we heroes must answer with blood and steel.”

---

Six hours. For six long and intense hours they huddled around the grand dining table with their character sheets, cans of Dr Pepper, flickering candles, and battled against the forces of evil. 

Eddie owned the room, he owned the whole house. He monologued like a Shakespearean actor, pacing the room, voice booming during the dramatic moments, whispering during the tense ones, until Gareth literally fell from a chair trying to lean in close to hear him.

“In the dank depths of the cavern, all you can hear is the heavy breathing of those around you. But in the dim, flickering torchlight, which of the hooded cultists are your fellow adventurers in disguise, and which are the true foes? That’s the mystery, there is no way to tell but the sound of their voices and the instinct in your gut.”

Eddie held a candle up to his face, the light casting shadows on his cheekbones and nose. “The acolytes carry the sack into the centre of the cavern, toward the stone altar. It wriggles, it writhes, it moans...and when they dump the contents onto the altar you see it at last...the telltale silver hair of Princess Volara, heir to the throne.”

“Oh shit,” Gareth rocked back and forth. “My betrothed has been captured by the Archmage himself. I won’t let you die, Volara. Not after Vecna slowly bled your soul of it strength.”

Lucas pulled out his slingshot and grabbed the D20, like the little weapon would give him luck. “My turn, guys. I take a stone from the cavern floor and load it into my slingshot-”

“Dude,” Mike interrupted. “You can’t attack, they’ll cut her throat before so much as take off your cloak!”

Lucas grimaced. “Trust me. I take my slingshot and fire the stone toward the sconce on the wall opposite. It knocks the wooden torch, just a little bit, making everyone turn toward the source of light.”

He rolled the D20, and they watched with bated breath, until it rolled onto sixteen.

Eddie pressed the tips of his fingers together, like a movie villain. “I see where you’re going with this. Crit hit, Sinclair. The cultists turn toward the source of light, and for the briefest of seconds, you see their eyes reflecting the firelight. Several of them are brown, several blue, but one is purple.”

“That’s me!” Jeff squealed. “All the potions turned my eyes purple, and-”

The ding-ding of the doorbell stopped them, and a collective groan rose around the table.

“Goddamn it,” Lucas shook his head. “Dustin, can you get the door?”

Dustin's face pulled into an expression of distaste. “Me?! I gave out candy only two times ago, it’s not my turn!”

“But what if it’s the pizza this time?”

Rose shuffled back in her chair, ready to go to the door, but Eddie stopped her, his hand brushing against her sleeve, making her breath catch.

Eddie seemed to pause too, his fingers stilling on her wrist. “Not your turn either. Just cause you’re the only girl, doesn’t mean it’s your job.” He grabbed his new favourite prop, Yorick the skull and played around, moving its lower jaw to mimic speech like a ventriloquist with a dummy. “Thordus, tis your turn to appease the cultists outside. Give them their pound of flesh - and by flesh I mean chocolate - and send them on their way. Go, good fellow! Before they tear down the defences!”

Chris groaned and picked up his sledgehammer, talking directly to the skull instead of Eddie. “Fine, but if I can scare them away, do I get to have the chocolate?”

“No!” Yorick’s jaw - and puppet master - said.

“Take some chocolate,” Rose called out, overruling the Dungeon Master. “Just don’t use the hammer anywhere near the children. We don’t need another murder to take place in this house, one was enough.”

“Where were we,” Eddie continued. “Ah, yes. Lucas, your character Sundar makes out Jeff’s wizard and Rose’s cleric in the crowd, hidden behind their own cultists masks and ready to save the Princess. They both stand to your left, by the cavern entrance. On your next turn, you can attack the Archmage and interrupt the ritual before it summons Vecna himself.”

Lucas passed the D20 over to Rose, who held out her shaky hand and clasped it, trying to determine a course of action.

“I can’t summon the dead body in the corner as a thrall, can I?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said gently. “You’re still level eight. Might be level ten by the next session, at which point you unlock Animate Dead and kick some cultist ass.”

She slumped in her chair, aching at the tight lacing of the corset. “God, I can’t wait.”

A series of childish screams sounded outside, followed by Chris’ laugh. He came running back in with his sledgehammer and a pile of chocolate and candy, hoarding it like Smaug with gold in his corner of the table. 

Jeff began to get antsy, fidgeting in his chair, checking his watch. “It’s seven o’clock, man. Where is this pizza?”

“It’s Saturday and Halloween,” Dustin rationalised, chugging back his Dr Pepper and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They’re busy.”

“Wait,” Eddie stood up suddenly, drawing their attention. “You shiver and clutch the robes tighter around your shoulders, taken by a sudden chill in the air. It’s not just cold in the cavern, it’s icy, your breath fogging in front of you like an ice dragon.”

Jeff took in a sudden breath. “You know what that means...he’s here.”

Mike scrunched up his face. “Who?”

Jeff leaned in. “Vecna.”

The dining room felt chilly in reality, and Rose shivered as if someone walked over her grave, ignoring the fact that shuddering her chest probably did little to hide the effect of her tight corset and the poorly-concealed cleavage.

The faint buzz of electric lights dimming rose above the crackling flames of the fireplace, and the ceiling lights and lamps in the hallway upstairs flickered, the power outage travelling downstairs and affecting the bulbs one by one, like they occasionally did. But this time, with the whole party of eight fixed on the malfunctioning lights, it got quiet and tense very quickly.

“Uh...guys?” Lucas asked, his face a mask of horror. “You saw that too, right?”

“It’s only been three months, I can’t do this again,” Mike added, running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry,” Rose added quickly, trying to diffuse the weird tension amongst the younger boys. “I know it looks weird but it’s just an old house, the wiring is dodgy. It’s happened before, but the power hasn’t blown out or anything.”

The path of malfunctioning lamps drew toward them, until the kitchen light just a couple of metres away flickered into life, and then faded away slowly.

“That light wasn’t even on,” Dustin said, his face ghostly pale. “Guys, I think we have a code red. I repeat, code red.”

Eddie looked puzzled, waving a hand toward Dustin, the cuff of his shirt sleeve flapping about. “What’s a code red, Henderson?”

A second ding-dong interrupted them again, and Rose unfurled her aching legs and stood up with a groan. “My turn. I’ll get some money in case it’s pizza. If anyone dares to move my character, I will kill them. That includes you Gareth. Actually, that mostly refers to you.”

“Jeez,” Gareth scowled from beneath his hood. “What happened to innocent until found guilty?”

Rose wandered into the kitchen, where the sandwich crusts, empty crisp packets and wrappers littered over the kitchen table were the only remains of the feast, demolished by a hungry horde by three o’clock. She retrieved the small wad of cash from the tin of tea leaves and opened the front door.

“How much is it?” She asked, looking down at her hands and trying to remove a folded twenty dollar bill. 

A wave of noise hit her, voices clamouring and cheering, and Rose dropped the money on the porch floor.

Steve Harrington tipped the cowboy hat from the thrift store at her, one spurred boot propped up on a giant, silver keg of beer. His jeans and tasselled waistcoat rounded out a fairly decent cowboy outfit. 

“Howdy there,” he said. “Did someone call for a keg party?”

“Surprise!” Robin leapt out from the crowd of people - wait, who were all the people? - in a full-on French mime costume, complete with beret, stripey shirt, braces and white face paint. “If Rose cannot come to the keg party, the key party shall come to her! I see you kept your outfit on, damn, you could cause a traffic accident with those on display!”

Rose crossed her arms defensively as teens in all kinds of Halloween costumes pushed past them, flooding the hall before she even had a chance to stop. Jeremy - the party dude, with the coke habit, entered the hall and looked around at the decorated house, with an exclamation of: “Sweet, nice haunted house, man.”

“What the hell?” Rose said. “How did this happen?”

Some of Robin’s bandmates were next, and a girl with red hair she’d recognised from school. They carried in cases of beer, bottles of spirits, and - as if it was plucked from a movie - a boombox playing something electronic and very not suited to the whole D&D vibe.

“You were so sad last weekend,” Steve explained. “We wanted to make your keg party dream come true. I know people, all it took was a couple of calls. Not sure how, but the rest of the school sniffed the party out like ”

Robin spread her arms open. “Ta da!”

Panic began to flood Rose, particularly how one very particular DM might react to the chaos. “But we’re still in the middle of Dungeons and Dragons!”

Robin pulled a face. “Huh? You said it started at one.”

“Exactly. We’re not even half way through!”

Robin’s face fell, but Steve looked calm and collected, stepping aside to let in a string of witches - cheerleaders from school, Rose thought - his eyes fixed on them as they walked by. “So we have a little party on the margins. Best of both worlds, right? Come on, don’t say your parents won’t like it. Your mom literally plied me with alcohol last time I was here, no questions asked. She’s cool.”

“Plus,” Robin pointed for emphasis. “We’ll be on clean up duty, and help you get the place tidy before they come home.”

“In four hours?” Rose cried out.

“No, sixteen hours, dummy. Eleven AM.”

“No, Rob. Four hours. They’re not staying overnight.”

“Oooh,” Robin let out a whistling breath. “Steve, have we fucked up? Can we stop it now?”

The keg had already been carried in, music blared, and a loud smash inside caused them all to wince. 

“I don’t think so,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Maybe we let it burn out for a couple of hours, until the alcohol’s gone. You know, like a forest fire.”

“Is that a good analogy, Steve?” Robin asked sarcastically. “Aren’t forest fires destructive?”

He held up his hands, kind of dopey. “What? I saw a PBS documentary on forest management last week, they’re supposed to, like, regenerate the forest by providing nutrients and encouraging new growth.”

“Fire...” Rose murmured. “There are a hundred lit candles in there. Quick, we have to put them out before the whole place goes up in flames!”

“Come on dingus,” Robin shook her head. “The least we can do is avert a disaster. You take the left side, i’ll take the right.”

Rose left them to put out candles and ran inside, her heart sinking. A picture frame had been knocked over, wooden frame splintered, but thankfully the glass was still intact. “Off!” She shouted to a ghost in a low-effort bedsheet with holes in it. “Break anything, and you pay for it. Damn it all to hell, I haven’t even checked with the Hellfire, they might be disappointed. I don’t know if they like this kind of thing, they might be too shy-”

As she wandered through the house and into the dining room, the Hellfire guys and the party people seemed to meet, absorbed into one big crowd. Lucas hi-fived another member of the basketball team.

Dustin was clutching his own face and giggling. “A kegger?” He squealed. “I didn’t think I'd be invited to one of those until Junior year. I’m three full years ahead of schedule...at this rate, I'll be prom king. Look out, class of ‘90!”

“I’ve heard of those kinds of parties, but I dared not hope...” Chris said. “Please say this isn’t a dream.”

Gareth was leaning back on his chair, his hooded cloak falling off his head, almost drooling at the outfits of the witch-cheerleaders. The game pieces in front of him and all the other guys had been completely forgotten. 

“Oh,” Rose said to herself. “Perhaps they don’t mind after all.”

The collective joy around the Hellfire table was contagious, the room filled with people and red cups of foamy beer, the electro-beat of Dead Man’s Party ringing out on the boombox...it wasn’t so bad. Like a John Hughes movie had leapt out from the screen and took place live in her home. 

Rose began to relax just a fraction. Until she saw the uncertainty on Eddie’s face. No, it wasn’t uncertainty, he looked downright pissed. She bumped her way through the crowd, elbowing through a pair of ghosts and a Princess Leia with fake buns on a headband, and tried to get to his side.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” she called over one of the revellers in a monster costume. “I didn’t know this was happening.”

He swept up the figurines and board pieces, snatching one from the curious green-painted hand of the monster dude, and packed them back in the box with an agitated, twitching face. 

“S’cool,” he lied. “No worries, maaan. We’ll have a big party instead of the Cult of Vecna. Pick it up next week, I guess. That is, if we haven’t lost the guys to the popular social clique.”

Rose worked her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling terrible about the interruption, kind of angry at Robin and Steve, yet oddly touched they tried to put this together just for her.

She approached him gingerly, putting a hand on his arm, looking deeply into his big, doe-eyes. “Eddie, don't be ridiculous. They love Hellfire, there’s no way they’ll abandon it for a moment with the popular kids. You’re like their hero.”

At that very moment Dustin ran forward, stopping in his tracks, looking at the doorway to the hall, dumbfounded. “Steve? What the hell, are you behind this kegger?”

Steve opened his arms wide. “Henderson, you little menace. Come here!”

The two of them ran toward each other almost in slow-motion, colliding in a dramatic and meaningful hug, which they tried to make more masculine with a lot of back-slapping and clearing of throats.

Dustin looked up at him, like he hung the moon. “Crashing a Halloween party at a haunted house with a keg? Classic King Steve. Graduation can’t even contain your reputation at school, can it?”

“Oh no,” Rose muttered under her breath, watching Dustin and Steve greet each other like the oldest of friends. Shit. From the corner of her eye, she saw Eddie was wounded. Sure, he covered it by turning to grab his guitar from the eager-fingered green monster and pointedly ignoring Dustin. But she could see right through it. Jealousy. But it felt like there was more beneath the surface. 

Eddie surveyed the crowd, and winced at a particularly shrill beat from the boombox. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm again. “Stay. Have a drink. I don’t want you to go.”

He looked down at her hand, wavering. “I guess I could have one.”

Rose sighed with relief. “Stay right here, I'll get us beer. If I'm going to be a reluctant party host, I might as well benefit from it by getting buzzed.”

The moment the crowd parted them, she lost sight of his long leather jacket and white frilly shirt, swallowed by dancing monsters and witches, moving to the beat. The kitchen was chaotic, all the Halloween candy eaten, and the pizza they ordered an hour ago had mysteriously arrived, been paid for, and completely devoured, leaving nothing but the greasy boxes.

“Robin!” She cried. “Where the hell is the beer?”

“In the parlour!” Her friend’s voice echoed back, a blur of face paint and a beret just visible in the hall. 

By the time she filled two cups with foamy beer, avoided the groping hands of a Thriller-style zombie whose face was almost planted in her cleavage, and got back to the dining room, Eddie was nowhere to be found. 

Okay, it wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for, but it was a party. A lively one, on Halloween, surrounded by teens who were high on hops and hormones, and...now that she came to think of it, what if they trashed upstairs? Used the bedrooms like a brothel, queueing up to fondle each other her mother’s quilted bedspread? It was enough to make her panic, until she saw a figure in a fur cloak, with his sledgehammer held high.

“Chris,” she waved at him, gaining his attention. “If you guard the stairs, i’ll owe you.”

“What?”

“I’ll owe you!”

His face was a picture of surprise. “You’ll blow me?”

“What the fuck, no!” She screamed, attracting attention, as When Doves Cry blasted across the room. “I will be in your debt. Owe you a favour. Anything except that!”

He nodded, finally getting it. “What do you want?”

“Guard the stairs, no one except me or Robin and Steve are allowed up. Okay?”

“A side quest,” he exclaimed. “No one will breach the stairs, milady. They can send an army, but I will guard it with my life!”

She sagged, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let anyone through, though slightly worried that sledgehammer would be put to use at some point, even by accident. 

“All the candles are out,” Robin sidled up to her. “I hid your mom’s ornaments in the pantry, and Dustin is literally about to combust from excitement. Time to actually enjoy the party, you know, dancing, music, a little joie de vivre...sound familiar?”

“What, we’re not supposed to scowl at the edges like old spinsters?” Rose said with mock confusion.

“Dance with me!” Robin commanded.

“I’m too clumsy!”

“Me too. If we do it together, maybe we’ll cancel each other out. Two left feet make a right, or whatever the saying is.”

She allowed herself to be dragged on the dance floor, and when Duran Duran came on the stereo, she couldn’t stop herself, laughing breathlessly as Steve did a little cowboy dance and completely failed to charm Bianca, the current object of his affections.

They were clumsy, they were awful, but Halloween costumes were forgiving, weren’t they? Freedom to be more than who you were, and try out a different side of yourself. The party burned on for longer than she realised, until the grandfather clock in the hallway struck eleven, the sonorous ring of it snapping her out of it.

Shit. Mum and Jerry would be home any minute, and the party was in full throes, nowhere near burning out like a forest fire, or whatever other hamfisted metaphor Steve had used earlier.

Her face was burning, lungs struggling for air, and the place was too crowded. Rose bolted for the front door, pushing past a couple shoving their tongues down each others throats and emerging onto the porch, where more kids hung out with cups of foamy beer. The hoppy smell made her feel queasy, feet stumbling until she was out on the driveway.

“Nice party, new girl,” someone shouted. She gave them a thumbs up, no clue who was beneath the costume, and kept going until she saw Eddie’s van. It was at the front of the drive, trapped by a layer of parked cars of those who arrived later, drawn by the buzz in the air and the gossip whipping around the town at lightspeed, of a party at the murder house.

She put her hands to the widow and peered through the glass: empty. But then a chord drifted on the night air, with the scent of pumpkin flesh and pine. Black Sabbath, the chorus of Lady Evil. Eddie sat on the swings over the street, the foggy evening lit by buzzing street lamps, illuminating the frizzy hair like a halo.

Rose ws drawn by the song, leaving behind the party and stepping willingly into the playground, watching his ringed fingers strum the acoustic guitar and produce a sound so natural and beautiful she held her breath. He was concentrating so hard his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth, and her heart did a little leap. The perils of having a heart condition and helplessly falling for someone...each time her heart raced, she felt weird, and worried herself needlessly. But she found it was a good weird.

“Ah,” Eddie said, sitting up as her shadow fell over him. “Here she is, the Queen of the Night herself. Mistress of the keg party. Lady reveller, entertaining the masses in her tavern.”

She snorted, and dropped onto the best swing, cold chains biting her fingers. “I’m hardly a party mistress. Haven’t even had a drink.”

He kept strumming the guitar, playing through the rest of the song, but smiling wide. “No way.”

“Yes way. Not even a drop of beer.”

His teasing side-eye was enough to warm her right up. “You running for sainthood or something?”

She pondered it for a while. “Sister Rose does have a good ring to it. What, why are you laughing?!”

“You’d be a terrible nun, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and throaty. “You’ve been converted to metal music, satan worship, and liquor. Yeah...you’re too good at sinning.”

His teeth shone pearly white and the loose ruffled shirt was still half-open, exposing the neck that would tempt Dracula himself. And when he saw her looking, his wicked grin only widened. Well bloody hell, he must be out to kill her. Do her in, set her on metaphorical fire, or at least banish all the nice, innocent thoughts she’d been thinking about how they could be friends. But there was a Chrissy-shaped elephant in this room, even though they were outside, one they were no closer to overcoming.

“My last hangover was one to remember. It might be a while before I can stomach alcohol without wanting to be sick.”

Eddie laughed and put down the guitar gently. “Just avoid the instrument, sweetheart. My uncle Wayne won’t forgive me if it comes home covered in vomit. It’s his baby, carried it all the way from Tennessee.”

“Your Uncle Wayne sounds great,” she ventured. He hardly ever talked about his family, only when they were alone. He didn’t have a mother and father and a picket fence, like most of his friends. Less stability, and more shame. “Did he teach you to play?”

His smile was bittersweet, eyes glazed over and lost in memories. “My old man taught me first. Uncle Wayne kept it up later, when he wasn’t around. Real country stuff. But the love of music? That came from my mom. We didn’t have much, but no matter how little money you have, you can’t take away music. I’d be strumming and banging on anything in sight, dancing along to her records. Hendrix and Fitzgerald and all sorts of blues.”

Rose swung back and forth gently, boots trailing on the grass. “How did she...”

“Cancer.”

“Shit.”

“She was thirty-three.”

“Oh god. That’s fucking awful Eddie, I didn’t know. How old were you?”

He twisted his swing’s chains to the side, so he was facing her. “Ten. She’s buried at the cemetery off Cornwallis. I go there sometimes. Never on the day she died, there is not a little bit of me that wants to remember that day. But I go there every now and then, and always on her birthday. I, uh, know it sounds stupid, but I bring the guitar and play some Hendrix sometimes.”

“Not stupid,” she said, swinging higher and higher, feeling the rush of being at the top of the world, and the drop in your stomach when you fall back to earth again. “You’re talented as fuck. Must have been that goblet of rock that’s inside. I’d better not let anyone drink from it, or you’ll be dethroned as Hawkins’ rock god.”

“Sweetheart, do not inflate my ego. I can hardly fit in the van as it is. If my head gets bigger, will I grow more hair, or will it go ratty and balding, spread like butter over too much toast?”

Rose laughed until she couldn’t breathe, and stuck out her heels, feet jarring in the grass as she made the swing come to a stop. “You’re trying to kill me, Munson. Oh god, my ribs. It hurts.”

Eddie half-rose from the swing seat, face etched with concern. “Are you...sick? Do we need a doctor?”

“It’s this corset,” she grimaced, twisting her hands to her back and trying to pull on the laces. “Flipping torture devices made by sadists, that’s what they are. I couldn’t cope with the Victorian era. No wonder the ladies fainted all the time and needed smelling salts.”

“Oh, right,” he crossed his arms, shoving his hands into his armpits, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “So you didn’t...uh, you didn’t just have that little torture device hanging around then? Not your weekend outfit?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Rose continued to struggle, going pink in the face. “I think I need help, I can’t reach the back. Could you undo the knot for me?”

Eddie stepped back. “You sure?”

Rose went light headed, and she stepped around until her back faced him, drawing her loose braid over the front of her shoulder. “I’m not asking you to strip me naked, Eddie. Just loosen it up a little. Besides, you can see I have a shirt on underneath this thing.”

“Oh. Loose...laces...knots. I happen to be amazing with my fingers, lots of practice. Oh Jesus H Christ, I meant with guitar strings not...though come to think of it...god, shut up. Shut up, Eddie.”

“Guitars,” she said dumbly. “I get it.”

His breath fanned the back of her neck and she could feel the warmth of him at her back. Don’t think of his fingers...don’t think of his fingers...

In a few moments he’d picked open the knot, and a single touch of his calloused finger to the exposed skin between her shoulder blades had a shiver rippling up her spine.

“Sorry,” he laughed nervously. “Kinda cold out here. So what do I do now?”

“Just tug on the top thread until it moves an inch or two, then the next one, and keep going. It should loosen up quite easily.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Gotcha.”

The top of the corset began to loosen and the pressure in her ribs and lungs slowly eased, and it was glorious, remembering how to breathe again, the blood flowing back to her skin and tingling all at once.

She groaned, loudly, just as Eddie’s fingers worked their way down; he jolted and tugged the lace too hard, and somehow within a single fluid move the lace unravelled and the whole thing dropped to the floor.

“Oh...ooh no, n-no.” Eddie stammered.

With agonising awareness, Rose felt her nipples hardening as the cool night air rushed beneath the loose, half-open peasant shirt. And in an instinctive, foolish move, she turned around to see what had happened, until he was inches away from her. 

The sensation of boobs - and not small ones, not by any stretch - being freed after a long period of containment was a very personal, very private thing, and one she had not experienced in front of a man, let alone one she fancied the pants off of. Within a split second she’d covered them with her hands, with the flimsy shield of the peasant shirt. Unfortunately, she’d left the garment open to better fit beneath her corset, and it was a flimsy layer of clothing by itself, made translucent by the buzzing street lamp over their heads.

“I seem to be in a state of undress,” Rose said politely. “Oh lovely, I’ve fully embraced life as a Victorian lady, haven’t I. Someone will see my ankles in a minute, and denounce me as the town hussy. Oh fuck.”

Eddie's eyes were pools of coal-black, completely unreadable, somehow everywhere over her body all at once, until he jerked back like he’d been burned. 

“Do you...” his voice was low and even, like he was putting great effort into controlling it. “Do you want me to lace it back on?”

“No! It would take too long, I'm one gust of wind away from being topless here.”

“Here,” he flung off his leather duster coat, like it had fleas. “Take it.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I run hot, like a furnace usually. Warm all the time. Never need a blanket, not even in winter.” he babbled. 

Rose tugged the sleeves of the leather jacket on, and held the edges together at the front. Now that image was too much...Eddie naked, Eddie sleeping with no clothes, and no blanket. But now, he was in his own flowing white shirt.

“I like your shirt,” she said, humour coming back into her voice now she had some semblance of modesty. “We kind of match.”

Eddie looked down at himself and pretended to be shocked, playing the jester, jumping back. “Oh my gosh, how did that get there? Wait...if I put on your corset, i’d look very Rocky Horror, wouldn’t I. Shall I do it?”

She couldn't help but giggle. “Ah, but they would think we’ve been out here...you know...doing stuff.”

His eyebrows waggled and he paced around, giving her a very mischievous look. “Ah, stuff. I thought you were a virtuous woman, Sister Rose?”

“What, a nun can’t cross dress with her dungeon master? Whatever has the world come to?”

He strutted around like a peacock, like something from a romance novel, chest half-exposed, long hair curling around his shoulders. Rose noticed a silver necklace of some kind hung at his chest, a crucifix maybe? Yes, yes she would be re-reading Anne Rice tonight, she was sure of it.

“Stuff,” he repeated. “Naughty things. Things someone inside might not like. I get it. Maybe we should head back in, before the parentals come home and see the lady of the house dishevelled in the street, like a common whore.”

“Oh,” she raised her brows. “I’ve been upgraded to whore, have I?

“Promoted, sweetheart. I guess you have a thriving career ahead of you.”

“A nun and a whore. What will the priest say?”

Eddie winked. “It’s kinky, he’ll love it..”

Whilst some of the partygoers had begun to drift off, bound by curfews and the threat of permanent grounding, most of them remained. Dustin, Lucas and Mike were hanging out in the dining room window, and Robin and half their classmates would be inside.

“Do I have to go in?” She asked, looking back at the swings with longing.

“Eventually, yes.”

She looked up to the windows of the house, and a grin spread over her face. “Who said I have to go through the front door? Eddie, are you good at climbing trees?”

He looked to her, to the house, to her, back to the house, cogs whirring in his brain. “Oh my god.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“No.”

“It makes sense. My window isn’t locked.”

“Do you have a death wish, sweetheart? Are you high? Except I know you’re not, cause I control the supply at school.”

“I’m high on life!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Goddamn it, you are going to be the death of me.”

Rose couldn’t stop giggling, until she sounded like a bit of an idiot. “Already died once, haven’t I? I must have eight remaining. You have nine left, like a cat.”

Eddie was contemplative. She thought she’d lost him for a minute there, as he turned his back to her. But a second later he came back, holding the leather, ribbed corset in his hands and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans. “You’ll need this, to protect your innocent reputation. Come on, Sister Rose, let’s break you back into the convent.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” she clapped her hands. “I’m living out every high school fantasy in one night.”

“It’s a good job your house has a nice veranda, and a great big tree right next to it. Come to think of it, you should get better security. That’s a thief’s wet dream.”

She giggled even more, stopping to breathe hard and clutch at his sleeve, completely ruining their stealthy approach. After a long pause they made it to the cedar tree at the side of the house, and Eddie climbed ahead of her, working out footholds and helping her take each step up. 

“Look,” she hissed. “They don’t even see us!”

The couple on the porch seat were sucking each other's faces off, too busy to notice the people climbing a tree only twenty feet away.

“Of course they don’t, they’re about to get to third base.”

“Yeah...I don’t understand baseball. No idea what that means.”

Eddie reached a horizontal branch and slithered onto it, testing its weight, and finding it sturdy. He hauled Rose up, until she straddled the branch and hugged the main trunk, watching how he dropped easily from the tree to the veranda below her mother’s bedroom.

“Come on,” he beckoned, hands outstretched. “I’ve got you.”

She dropped onto him with a thud, with a mental reminder to thank the contractor who’d repaired the roof last month, for doing such a sturdy job. There were some limbs pressed together, some awkward scrambling upright, until they stood holding each other's forearms, balancing together.

“So,” he said casually. “Which room’s yours?”

Rose looked up, gesturing with her chin to the big, round stained-glass window. “Up there.”

He threw his head back, exposing the column of his throat. “The attic? You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Hold me.”

Eddie blinked a few times. “What?”

“Boost me up. I can get in the side window, then pull you up afterward.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “We could do that.”

They crept to the side of the veranda, beneath a dormer window, and Rose limbered up, then wound her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. “I’m ready. How do you want to do this?”

Eddie held out his arms moving them up and down, like he was looking for somewhere to grab. “Maybe you should get on my shoulders? Jump up?”

The air seemed to crackle as she stepped toward him, looping her arms about his shoulders. She was so nervous she jumped straight away, until her legs locked about his waist and his head oh for god’s sake his head was at a level with her chest.

“Not that way,” He said, muffled by their clothes. “I meant jump on my back, not my front!”

“That would have made sense.”

“We’ll go with it,” he said, shifting her weight in his arms. “Can you reach the window from here?”

“Back up to the wall for me.”

He did as she asked. “Now?”

Her fingertips were so near, bark-scraped palms flush against the bottom of the window pane, almost able to push open the sash window. “Almost, let me get a bit higher.”

She wriggled up him, until somehow her knees were planted on his shoulders. “Yes, I've got it!”

“Hmm. Fuck. Oh god.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not light.”

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice was muffled again. “Just be careful where you move, or the couple on the porch won’t be the only ones out here getting to third base.”

She pushed open the window and the momentum carried her slightly forward, realising just at the wrong moment that his head was very much in between her legs. Panic and adrenaline made her pull herself into the window more than her arms could under normal circumstances, and before long she was crumpled on the floor of her attic bedroom, quivering in a heap. 

“Uh, Rosie? You in there?”

She sat up so quick it made her lightheaded. “Yep, I'm coming.” She appeared over the window ledge and looked down into big, brown eyes and a dimpled smile.

He threw his arms up, dropping down on one knee like a knight in a fairy tale. “Rapunzel, let down your hair,” 

“What?” She grabbed her braid, looking at it like a slack-jawed idiot. “Oh. Something to climb. I see.” She dived back into her room, switching on a lamp. Her scarf? Her hockey stick? Her eyes landed on the floral blue dressing gown on the wardrobe door, she pulled the terry cloth belt from it and threw it out the window.

Holding the rope with one hand, he climbed up the wall like a limber monkey, latching onto her arm as he neared the top and launching himself into the window, jean chain clanking on the sill. They collided again, proximity making her drunk and dizzy, lightheaded from being in the presence of all this Eddie. She was suddenly very aware Eddie Munson was just between her legs, whilst they broke into her attic room, with a raging party going on downstairs and music throbbing through the floorboards. There was no way she’d anticipated the night ending like this.

He rubbed his scratched palms together and became aware of his surroundings, peering into the corners, wandering around aimlessly, poking at her things. “So this is like your lair? Very creepy, very cool. Very Rose.”

“You think?”

“Hell yeah,” he gave her an enthusiastic nod. Oh god, he looked good in that shirt, it was sinful. He zeroed in on the bookshelves, fingers tracing on the spines. “That is a looot of books. If you didn’t have a wall of sexy guys plastered right next to it, I'd be kind of intimidated, y’know?”

“I’m a connoisseur of bands and movies,” she said, eyeing the posters of her old crushes, marvelling that the new one, the real one, was right there. “Purely a coincidence that they’re all very attractive men.”

“Harrison Ford,” Eddie appraised the poster of Indiana Jones. “Classic. I get it, it’s the whip, isn’t it.”

“Of course, every girl’s dream,” she replied. “Would you...would you mind waiting outside the door while I get changed? As much as I like this jacket, I-”

His mood shifted, becoming more guarded. “Oh, I get it. I don’t want a particular person to get the wrong impression, like I carry you into your bedroom window in a state of undress all the time. Especially when they might be downstairs, dancing to shitty music with the rest of the popular crowd.”

Chrissy was here? Rose supposed it made sense, she’d seen half the cheerleading squad in witchy outfits attacking the keg earlier. Come to think of it, she didn’t know who half the people in the house were, partly due to the costumes, but clearly a bigger crowd had been summoned by the invite from the former King of Hawkins High. “I didn’t realise there was someone...I mean I thought, but...”

“It’s okay,” Eddie flapped around nervously, inspecting her bookshelves again. “I kind of figured it out last week. Moving on swiftly, I can either sneak downstairs or go back out the window. I’m thinking the window; Chris might kneecap me with the sledgehammer on the way down the stairs, he looks like he was taking that responsibility very seriously.”

“I don’t want you to break your neck on the way down. I’ve never seen someone trip on their own feet so much, except Robin, maybe. If I didn’t know you were stone cold sober I’d think you were drunk.”

Eddie took the mortal blow badly, clutching his chest. “Me? Clumsy? I’m as graceful as a...okay, you got me there McAllister.”

Fuck. He was so clumsy, so charming, so infuriatingly on the same wavelength as Rose. It was typical, she supposed. She found someone she was crazy about, and he was crazy about someone else. 

Eddie had given her more courage and more reason to break out from her carefully crafted shell of invisibility than anyone. And maybe, just maybe, she should do something very…stupid. Then he was walking away, back facing, his hand on the doorknob.

“Eddie, wait,” she caught his arm. His pretty brown eyes found hers, boring into her heart. “I need to say something.”

He swallowed. “Is this the part where you tell me you wanna leave Hellfire? I don't want…I guess it-”

“No, you idiot! I love Hellfire. It's something else, stupid really.”

He stood up straight, becoming more serious. “Yeah?”

She took a deep breath. “I really, really-”

Darkness covered them like a thick blanket, pitch black so dark she could only feel his arm, not see him at all. Jeering and shouting from a half a hundred teens all at once rose through the house; then the music died, and all she could feel was her racing heart.

“Party's over, dipshits,” Steve cried out downstairs, to a chorus of boos. “If you're still here in five minutes, congratulations, you volunteered for clean up duty.”

Eddie's warm breath fanned her face in the dark. “I'd, um, offer to stay, but I have six guys to get home in the van, three of them freshmen and possibly buzzed for the first time.”

“Of course, you should collect the hellspawn,” Rose managed a lame laugh. “It's dark, so you can sneak down the stairs without being seen.”

“Well, don't mean to brag, but this bard's stealth is pretty high.”

He began to pull away.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For being so kind.”

His hand squeezed hers. “Anytime, Rosie. Just say the word.”

In three heartbeats he was gone, stirring the air in his wake. And despite sneaking into her window with a boy, an out if control keg party, and the prospect of parents on the rampage for an impromptu rager, she'd trade every one of those high school cliche’s just to hold onto him a minute longer, or as long as he'd let her.

[merlinfromberlin]

A Little Left of Right

"Apparently our cross-dimensional counterparts belong to the more faint of heart," said Optimus. His words sent a cold shiver down Bumblebee's backstrut. "Weren't they keeping pets, too?" asked Arcee, the cold sneer that accompanied those words basically audible. "Pathetic. I don't know what anyone could ever find in these squishies. It's a shame we're stuck here with them." ::What?:: bleeped Bee.

Or: When Bumblebee wakes up after a crash in the desert, something is not quite right with Team Prime.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, experimental style, Shattered Glass, Ableist Comments, implied cross-dimensional stalking, attempted botnapping Chronology: Somewhere smack dab in the middle of TFP Season 2 - after Operation: Bumblebee but before Smokescreen shows up. Chapter: 1/? Wordcount: 1823 words

Apparently merely the first chapter of a longer story (against my consent).

Written for @angstober - Day 15: False Hope. Prompt list can be found here: X

I'm aware that this does not exactly fit the 'false hope' mold. It's more a 'false sense of security'. But well. This idea stole my brain and by the time I got it back I didn't want to go back and change it anymore.

Story below the cut or on AO3 (I would recommend the AO3 version because of the formatting - looks better over there).

[Initiating system reboot.]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[Rebooting sequence successful.]

[Running automated system diagnosis.]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[Energy level: 53%.] 

[Fuellevel: 49%. ]

[Malevolent foreign coding (Aut#Rt-4c7.SG) detected.]

[Isolating code.]

[…]

[…]

[…]

[Malevolent foreign coding (Aut#Rt-4c7.SG) isolated.]

[Starting analysis.]

[…]

[…]

[…]

[Analysis complete.]

[Malevolent foreign coding (Aut#Rt-4c7.SG) identified as Forced Shutdown Protocol (Aut#Rt-4c7.SG).]

[Complete system scan recommended.]

[Scan now?]

[Yes (X) No ( )]

[Initiating scan.]

The first thing Bumblebee became aware of as he woke was coarse grainy desert sand grinding into his joints and burrowing itself below his plating. The second thing was a processor ache almost as bad as that one time he had fallen from Optimus’ shoulders as a sparkling. The third thing was his HUD as well as several other core processes rebooting.

His internal navigation system positioned him somewhere between Jasper and Autobot Outpost Omega One which was good because it was where he remembered being before… before he had been knocked out by whatever. At least Bee had not been botnapped. That would have been inconvenient. Being botnapped sucked. And he really did not want to miss this week’s episode of Avatar.

Bee’s comm link pinged four Autobot signals around him. As he could detect no other lifeforms—apart from an armadillo—nearby, Bumblebee decided to take that as a good sign. He was probably relatively safe right now. Still, he was cautious as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Safety was never permanent. It was one of the first lessons growing up in a Civil War older than yourself taught you.

When he finally onlined his optics, a new surge of pain shredded his processor. His whole visual feed was grainy and drained of colour except for a violently pink tinge in the upper right corner that would have fried his optical sensory circuits if they had not already been glitching. Shaking his helm did not help with the problem in the slightest. Instead, the movement just aggravated the pain and made him nauseous. With a small groan, he pressed his thumbs just below his optical ridges. The sensation of cool digits against heated metal helped momentarily, allowing him to tear his focus back to the present.

Through the static Bumblebee could, albeit barely, make out the shapes of Optimus Prime and Ratchet standing in front of him. The medic was kneeling in front of Bee, already scanning his charge for damages. To his sides he could make out two more vague frames—one slithe, the other bulky. That had to be Arcee and Bulkhead.

::What happened?:: Bee beeped after a moment of tense silence while he slowly, so as not to aggravate his processor further, turned his helm up towards Optimus for answers.

“Our… scanners detected your distress signal,” replied the Prime after a short pause. His tone of voice sent a chill down Bumblebee’s backplating and caused his doorwings to shoot upwards in rigid tension. Optimus sounded uncharacteristically angry and... almost arrogant. His cool intonation and aggressive glyphs grated on Bee's processor. Maybe there was something wrong with his audials, too? Because that was just not what the Autobot leader was supposed to sound like. “So we came to investigate.”

::I don’t…:: Bee started slowly, cycling his optics sluggishly as he scoured his memory files for hints as to what had happened. ::I was driving back to base… I had just brought Raf home. Then… there was this… I don’t know… light, I guess… a flash of blue light. And…. Then I don’t know. I woke up here.::

[Error in Optical Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) detected.]

Who woulda thunk.

[Restart of Optical Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) necessary.]

[Restart now?]

[Yes (X) No ( )]

[Initiating restart of Optical Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127).]

“Mh… There is some minor damages to his sensory network,” reported Ratchet just as Bumblebee’s visual feed offlined itself. He heard someone heavy, probably Bulkhead, shift their weight from one pede to the other on his left side.

::Yeah:: Bee piped up. ::My self-repair is already-::

“Du-uh-uh. Let the grown-ups talk. It's impolite to invade conversations you know nothing about.” He was cut off almost immediately by the medic which… ouch. His carer tended to be grouchy but that… that had just been mean. Unnecessarily so in Bee’s opinion. Ratchet had never before spoken to him like that. Tentatively, he attempted to reach out with his EM field but was met with nothing but distant static. Dejected, he pulled it back to his frame, curling its tendrils tightly around his protoform for comfort. “Otherwise, there seems to be nothing amiss with him. Well, except for the obvious.” Which… again. Ouch. What had gotten into Ratchet?

::Maybe it was M.E.C.H.? I mean… it would fit their method is all:: offered Bee after a moment of terse silence.

A silent hum from Optimus was the only answer he received. Until an impossibly familiar voice spoke up.

“I thought we had squashed those pests decicycles ago,” said Cliffjumper of all mech which… apparently Bee’s audials really were glitching because there was no way that Cliffjumper could be here. Cliffjumper had died months ago in a Decepticon energon mine. And Bee was absolutely certain of that because he kept reliving that dreadful cycle in all its gory details in his dreams. He could not be hearing Cliffjumper because Cliffjumper was dead. Offline. One with the Allspark. Gone.

"Apparently our cross-dimensional counterparts belong to the more faint of heart," answered Optimus. Again, his words sent a cold shiver down Bumblebee's backstrut.

"Weren't they keeping pets, too?" asked Arcee, the cold sneer that accompanied those words basically audible. "Pathetic. I don't know what anyone could ever find in these squishies. It's a shame we're stuck here with them."

::What?:: bleeped Bee. His servos were shaking slightly. His vents came in too fast. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong here. None of this made any sense. Please, Primus, let it be a glitch with his audials or something like that. At least he would know how to fix that—or Ratchet would.

[Query: Initiating scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127).]

[Scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) has not detected any malfunction.]

[Query: Initiating scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127).]

[Scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) has not detected any malfunction.]

[Query: Initiating scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127).]

[Scan of Auditory Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) has not detected any malfunction.]

[Restart of Optical Sensory Relay Network (Bas#B-127) successful.]

[Rebooting now.]

As his visual feed came back online, Bumblebee flinched heavily. The jerking motion send a shard of hot pain through his processor that buried itself deep behind his right optic. He did not care as he shuffled backwards in a panic. After only a few metres his doorwings collided with a rock behind him, stopping him in his tracks and trapping him in place.

[Initiating Energy Preservation Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Energon Preservation Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Emergency Pain Suppressant Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Stealth Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Scouting Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Infiltration Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

[Initiating Combat Protocols (SpOp_Sc#B-127).]

As his processor ache slowly faded to the background, the scout's gaze kept shifting wildly from one bot to the next, skipping from white plating accented with teal on Ratchet's frame to an Arcee whose dark blue main colour had been exchanged for pitch black. For a moment, Bee's focus lingered on the dark blue Cliffjumper to his left. This mech had a lot more horns and studs than his own Cliff had ever possessed. All of their optics glowed red. Then his attention narrowed down on the tallest bot of the group surrounding him. The one who shared Optimus’ frame but neither his colour scheme nor his gentle warmth. Instead, the semitruck was mostly violet, his optics glowing in a sickening purple the scout had come to associate with Megatron. 

::You’re not Optimus:: Bumblebee finally said, his vocalisation trembling slightly. The fake Optimus just laughed. The sound of it was grating to the youngling's audials and he pulled his pedes even closer to himself. His doorwings flared up wide behind him. They were flapping furiosuly, lower halfs scraping against the rock behind him with every stroke.

The fake Ratchet scoffed: "He is a truer Prime than your pathetic pacifist archivist ever could be, little sparkbyte."

Bee shivered at the term of endearment. It sounded wrong when it came from this mech—cold, dangerous and mocking when it should have been one of the, if not the safest word in the entire universe. How did this sorry excuse for Ratchet even know it? Ratchet—his Ratchet, his medic and his carer and the bot who had raised him with Optimus and Ironhide and Elita-1 ever since the destruction of Bumblebee's hometown—made sure never to use it publicly. He was not even sure if their human allies, if Raf, knew the term.

::What did you do to Ratchet?:: Bee warbled quietly, cycling his optics to focus on the medic's faceplates now. He was shaking silently, although he was not sure if from fear or fury.

"Wouldn't you like to know, little one?" The grin on the mean doctor's faceplate split even wider. That was Optimus' nickname for him. It took Bee way too much effort not to cower.

"Ratchet," interrupted the fake Prime suddenly, his voice cold and coloured heavily with disgust. "As amusing as this conversation may be to you, you can continue it back at headquarters. There, you will have our little guest all to yourself without having to worry about Decepticons interrupting you."

::I'm not going anywhere with you!:: protested Bumblebee vehemently, his cables tensing underneath his armour as he made himself even smaller, preparing to strike in surprise. He was sure as the pit not going to go with these creeps. He would rather face Megatron.

"That's not for you to decide, bug." It was the fake Cliffjumper that reacted first to Bee's challenge.

[Initiating transformation sequence (COM-SpOp#B-127;α).]

[Rerouting energon to Combat Line (COM-SpOp#B-127;α;1).]

[Rerouting energon to Combat Line (COM-SpOp#B-127;α;2).]

The blue mech stepped forward to try and pull the smaller bot to his pedes. He stumbled backwards as Bee leapt up from his curled up position on the ground, blasters drawn. The scout used the older mech's surprise to slip past besides him, gaining some space while using the fake Cliff as a shield from the rest of his perpretators. He stayed there for barely a nanocycle before aiming a few weak shots at the older mech's chassis and diving over the top of the rock he had just been leaning against. Midair, he fired a few more shots in the general direction of these weird, dark Autobot mimicries before folding down into his alt mode to speed away as fast as his wheels could carry him.

[queen-scribbles]

Nothing But Time

I figured out a title, yay! Next installment of Ody/Chance, where, despite my best efforts, I had to give them a... pretty long gap between visits. >.> Post-Shadow of Revan. ---

The list of names was starting to blur.

Odessa paused, blinked her eyes back into focus, and continued. She was almost done. The only level of sorting on the roster of Revanite traitors was Imperial versus Republic, no further categorizing by branch of service or alphabetical or anything. Which meant if she wanted to verify the (lack of) results to her targeted search, she had to read the whole damn thing.

So she did. And when she finally tossed the datapad aside, it was with a satisfied smirk accompanying her headache. It wasn't there. She'd recognized some of the names from files or past missions, but she hadn't seen the only one she cared about.

Sollen Rieves was not on the list.

Odessa stretched and massaged the headache knotting between her brows. Not that she'd ever really thought he was, but some part of her couldn't let go of the paranoia Intelligence drilled into her. It brought a sense of triumph that paranoid sliver had been wrong and she could prove it. After finishing the stretch, she reached for the datapad again. Reading might be the last thing her eyes wanted to do, but her heart wanted to devour the handful of messages again. She usually deleted them after reading, but circumstances being what they were hadn't brought herself to do so with these yet.

---

Dessa, I'm not going to ask what you were doing on Manaan, just wish I'd been there to see you. Far as your question, I never worked with Shan, but from everything I can find he seems solid. I'd say you can trust him. Maybe ask Ardun? Funny thing, when I was poking around his file, it looked like I wasn't the first, and whoever it was tried to hide it. Whatever you're into be careful, okay? I still owe you a drink. ~S

---

I know you said you won't be able to answer and might not even see this but please at least try to be careful. It's been a year, Dess. Our last visit can't be our last visit, you know? I appreciate the attempt to keep me safe, but if it's that dangerous I'm going to worry about you pretty much every day until I hear something. Miss you. Sol

---

Odessa, if you see this, I'm not on Coruscant anymore. I'm finally recovered enough the powers that be are ready to start the 'easing back into normal life', never mind that I don't know what that means anymore. I'm at a limited-oversight facility on Aurea. Coordinates and address attached in case you're alive and done whatever made you go dark. You can visit whenever. Miss you. S

---

The shuttle bleeped final approach as she finished, and Odessa tucked away the datapad to handle the landing. It was uneventful, security far more lax than she expected. Navigating the planet was also much simpler than Coruscant, so it was no time at all--and still far too much--before she was standing in front of the door. His door.

She took a deep breath but didn't fidget as she reached to press the door chime.

It echoed inside the small house and was answered with a muffled, "Come in, it's open."

Brows arched, Odessa keyed the controls to open the door. He really should be more careful. She stepped inside and her heart lodged in her throat at the sight of him, bent over a datapad to finish something.

"You really should keep that locked, Sollen," she said, smiling faintly when he flinched and looked up at her like he was seeing a ghost. "Anyone could wander in."

"Dessa-!" The datapad clattered to the floor as he bolted to his feet. His steps were noticeably uneven, but Odessa barely cared enough to clock it. His arms went around her, desperately tight, and she hugged him back with equal fervor.

"Stars, I mi-"

Sollen cut off her fervent whisper with a kiss, and she hummed her satisfaction with the choice as his finger tangled in her hair and she dropped her bag so hers could tighten in the back of his shirt. She may have been planning to do the exact same thing, so she was more than happy to melt into the kiss and return it until they parted for breath. She was dimly aware of the door sliding closed behind her.

He let out a shuddering breath, one hand still cupping her cheek. "Sorry, I-I... A year and a half, Dess."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but you don't need to be," Odessa murmured. Her hands settled on his hips and she leaned her forehead to his. "It was a very good, very overdue kiss. And a lovely way to be greeted, I might add."

Sollen chuckled bashfully. "Good to know." He pulled her in close again, as if afraid she'd vanish if he let her go. "I'm glad you're alright," he mumbled into her hair.

She smiled against the side of his neck. It made an indescribable tangle of emotion surge in her chest to have someone care this much. Even her parents hadn't been so open about it. It was nice.

And she was quiet long enough dwelling on that he pulled back and studied her face, worry in his eyes as he searched hers. "You are alright, aren't you?"

Odessa nodded and smiled, resting one hand on his jaw. The scarring that had pocked his cheek was so faded now you could only see it if you knew to look. "I'm fine." She brushed her thumb over faint roughness, unsure if it was scars or stubble. "Things were... harrowing for a while, but it's done and I emerged unharmed." Well, mostly. But the dislocated shoulder had been an easy fix, he didn't need to know about that.

"Can you... tell me about it?" Sollen asked. "Or is it something classified or..."

"Oh, no, it wasn't even an officially sanctioned mission, for the most part. I can talk about it, if you have the time."

"I have nothing but time," he said with a wry laugh. "They're deciding this week about reclassing me, so I'll know my new role soon, but for now? All the time in the universe." He stepped back and turned to head for another room. "I can get you something to drink. How much... how long can you stay?

Odessa bit her lip. She was vey keen to see his reaction, knowing their time together had previously been measured in hours. "If you're alright with company... a couple days."

Sollen's bad knee buckled and he grabbed the doorframe for support. He looked back at her with wide eyes. "You're serious?!"

She nodded and stepped closer. "I wouldn't joke about this, Sol. Not when our time together has been so scant. All my crew are on various assignments that will take several days, and I told my superiors I'm tracking some important information." A grin. "They don't need to know it's personal information rather than anything official."

"In that case..." His smile lit his whole face. "I'll make tea and you can fill me in on what was so dangerous you had to drop off the face of the galaxy for six months."

"Wouldn't have figured you for a tea drinker," Odessa commented idly, watching as he crossed the small kitchen. He was much steadier on his feet than when she last saw him, even with the limp.

"I didn't used to be, but hospital drink options are limited, and there's a lot of meds that don't mix well with caf. Gets boring to only drink water after a while." Sollen wrinkled his nose sheepishly as he set water boiling and reached into a cabinet. "There's honestly only a couple I like, so it's not much variety, but it's better than nothing."

Odessa chuckled, nudging out one of the chairs at the small table to settle in. "Most tea drinkers, in my experience, have a few favorites they tend to stick to, you're hardly alo--" Her brows shot up at the familiar dark purple canister he set on the counter. "Is that...?"

He nodded, still sheepish. "You'll have to tell me if I make it right; it wasn't easy to get my hands on, so I only tried brewing it once. Didn't want to waste it experimenting." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Pretty sure there was something off about my attempt."

"It is both a little tricky to make, and an acquired taste if you don't grow up with it." She pushed out of the chair with a smile, coming to lean back against the counter next to him. "I could just help make it."

"Advice only; I wanna go through the steps myself so I know what to do," Sollen said, retrieving the rest of what he needed.

"Fair," Odessa nodded, studying his profile as he worked, her thoughts abuzz with the fact he'd remembered her favorite tea from one offhand comment in one letter over a year ago, made in conjunction with wishing to decompress after a hard day. "First thing, the water's not as hot as for most tea or it gets too bitter..."

She walked him through the steps, advice only, struggling not to get distracted by him being so close after so long. Considering he lost his train of thought a few time when their eyes met, she wasn't alone in that. Finally, both with cups in hand, they settled at the kitchen table.

Odessa picked at the side of her mug. "I hardly know where to start..."

Sollen shifted in his chair, leaning against the wall behind him. "The assignment that wrecked our plans last time might be a good place."

She huffed a laugh through her nose. "I suppose it would. I was so close to escaping Imperial entanglement for a while, Sol..."

---

With her meeting done, Odessa was free of obligations and could use the next week or so to attend to personal matters. Personal matters, in this case, being a certain recovering SIS agent she hadn't seen in entirely too long. Almost a year.

She almost ignored the astromech beeping furiously as she headed up the stairs to her hanger access on Vaiken. Later she would wish she had. But she stopped. She gave it her attention. And her heart sank to her toes as 'A7-M1 honored to meet Imperial legend!' turned into 'you = prepare for incoming transmission' and watching her precious free time co-opted by the grandiose hinting of a Darth's plan to shake the Republic. Because those weren't a credit a dozen.

She wanted to scream. Instead she smiled, promised to meet him soon, and paused to dash off a quick message.

Sorry, Sol, I've been tapped for an assignment it would raise suspicion to refuse. Still coming, just delayed a couple days. Miss you. x Dessa

The mission, of course, made a liar of her.

Attacking Tython, of all planets, made Republic security impossibly tight, and their own assault on Korriban she had to help shake meant Imperial scrutiny was the same. She and Sollen were stuck in the limbo of their love lived through letters and she hated it. She hated admitting there was no way she could get past both their governments' security to visit him, hated reading and deleting his letters so there was no risk of trouble, hated she was stuck as Imperial-but-not-really. She hadn't heard from Ardun since their run-in on Alderaan.

She hated even more going no-contact a few months later.

But she was neck deep in rooting out a conspiracy, with no idea who could be trusted, watching her allies go off-radar to escape the targets lazed on their backs. This was the only way to really keep him safe.

Sollen- Things are getting complicated. And risky. I have to go dark for a while. I probably won't see anything you send me, and I definitely won't be able to answer. I'm sorry and I hate it, but it's the best way to keep you out of this. I can't promise to be safe, or even careful, but I will be thinking about you until I can write again. xDessa

She hesitated a long moment before hitting send.

---

"This is what I get for being on medical leave," Sollen said wryly when she finished her rundown, all the way through Yavin 4. "I'm so out of the loop it's not even funny. I didn't hear so much as a rumble about any of this." He reached across the table, his hand warm from cradling his mug when it covered hers. "I'm glad you came out of it okay, Dess."

"So am I," she said with a half-smile. "They were a determined bunch. I am sorry it delayed me coming to visit for so long, but I didn't want to draw you into their sights while you were recovering." She turned her hand under his to give a squeeze. "And not knowing what capabilities they had made going completely dark the safest choice for a while."

"I'm not upset at you or anything," he said. "Though I did worry something awful just about every day."

"Just about?" she teased.

"Days the rehab was really strenuous I was sore enough to be more worried about me," he returned lightly. "Hope that's okay."

"Perfectly." He thumb rubbed the side of his hand. "It does seem to have helped."

"Much as it could," Sollen agreed wryly. "I think the director might've been pressuring for me to be fieldwork-capable again; they pushed PT really hard and it took forever to classify otherwise."

Odessa arched a brow. "Really?"

"They made it official a few months ago." He circled his thumb around the rim of his nearly-gone tea. "Taris is what, three years back? Four? Shouldn't have taken that long to decide. I'm missing ribs, have diminished lung capacity, not to mention this" --a gesture to his bad leg-- "and you'd think it would have been clear a lot earlier there's no way I'm passing the physical exam for field agent now."

"Sounds like you're alright with that," she commented.

He nodded. "At first I wasn't sure if the relief was from finally having a firm answer or not having to go back to that. But the more I thought about it, the more it was the latter. I think I would've had to give up too much of myself to stay in field work."

"Given that I quite like you the way you are, I'm glad it won't come to that." Odessa took a sip of her (rapidly cooling) tea. It wasn't perfect, but he'd come closer than any other non-Imperial she'd seen make it. "And you said they're deciding this week how to reclass you?"

Sollen nodded again and finished off his tea. "I'm hoping for analyst; I think handler would come with similar problems to being in the field."

"I'll cross my fingers for you," she said with a smile. "...I think that's us all caught up."

"I think it is." He looked at the wall chrono. "Just in time to figure out where you're sleeping if you really can stay a couple days. I don't have a guest room. Wasn't expecting to get much company."

"I really can," she said,, biting back a smile at his disbelief, "and with a blanket and pillow I can sleep on the sofa, it looks comfortable enough."

Sollen eyed her with skepticism regarding her definition of comfort. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I can guarantee I've made do with worse, and it's worth it to spend more time with you."

He looked ready to protest further, but they both knew damn well the only other option was sharing his bed. And neither wanted to be the one bringing that up.

So he sighed, nodded, and pushed to her feet. "I'll get what you need."

Odessa made herself useful tidying up the kitchen while he saw to that. She could hardly believe how much time she could give to this visit, his repeated checking was as understandable as it was endearing. When he returned with the necessary items, she set the sofa to her liking while he ordered in dinner ("I'm not scaring you away with my cooking"). They talked for a few more hours, about nothing and everything, before turning in. At a decent hour that promised a good night's sleep and more time together come morning.

---

Odessa came awake well-rested, not sore, and--best of all--to the sight of Sollen dozing in one of the armchairs. She smiled and nudged his knee with her toes as she sat up.

He jerked awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You're still here."

"That I am," she nodded around a yawn, running a hand through her hair. Her bangs were getting shaggy. "And you're out here."

A sheepish smile. "Woke up, couldn't get back to sleep. Wandered out here to make sure the latter part of yesterday wasn't a dream."

Odessa laughed as she moved to lean against his chair. "No. I'm here, and will be until at least tomorrow unless you kick me out."

His hand slid idly up and down her arm. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"In that case" --she leaned down to steal a kiss, morning breath be damned-- "I'll go make caf."

She could feel him watching her as she padded toard the kitchen, and it was ssuch a comfortable sensation it made her grin to herself.

She was very much looking forward to the next couple days.

[belsasim]

That first school day, Kit and Zinnia also had another introduction and it proved to be ominous.

After lunch, Zinnia started to feel dizzy. The nerves and excitement for her first school day were messing with her medication and she hadn't eaten much for lunch. When her teacher asked a question, Zinnia had trouble to collect her thoughts and give a satisfying answer.

Grumpy-looking blond dude (under his breath, but loud enough for both Zinnia and Kit to hear): "Not even capable of answering the simplest question... Pathetic." Zinnia (trying to ignore the boy's comment): "..." Kit (also under his breath): "Watch it dude, leave my sister be or I'll kick your ass after class." Blond dude (scoffing): "Sure, Dreamer on, loser."

Kit barely managed to keep his calm by focusing his attention on the teacher and blocking out the mean blond dude in the corner of his eye. The nerve.

After class, Kit first checked up on Zinnia, giving her an energy bar. Then he rushed after the blond guy and caught him in the cafetaria.

Kit: "Hey, who the *bleep* are you to make nasty comments about my sister?" Blond dude (looking him down with disdain): "Seriously, you're as dumb as I thought. I live opposite of you, Kit Dreamer. Since I got back from boarding school, I have to look at your ugly house every day." Kit (blinking): "?" Blond dude (getting aggravated): "Hermes. Hermes Landgraab. You ought to remember that name, loser."

Kit knew about the Landgraabs. The shady business Nancy Landgraab had been involved in. And even though her son Malcolm, Hermes's father, had made efforts to get the business conform to all the legislation, the Landgraabs were still generally distrusted. But they were absolutely loaded. Kit realised that he was dealing with a mean sim and that he would never be on good terms with the likes of him.

Before he could give a witty reply, one of the teachers walked up to the arguing duo. "Gentlemen, do we have a problem here?" Hermes just looked at Kit with a devious smile. Kit had to take a deep breath to keep himself collected. Between his teeth, he answered: "No sir, everything is peachy here." The teacher's gaze went from Kit to Hermes and back to Kit again. With a sigh, he dismissed them: "Ok then, gentlemen, off you go. School's out, go home and stay clear of each other."

[groovesnjams]

42 / 50

"Late Night Love" by Octo Octa

MG:

I think “Late Night Love” probably goes off in a club. It has the bones of “Popcorn” in its bubbly, percolating percussion and layers of droning beats for tonal contrast and to anchor the song in time. It’s Casio Krautrock trance music and it’s permissive of the classic oldhead bob, but it also embraces limbs akimbo, flailing like bare branches in a winter gale. I think it probably goes off in a club but I also think that rigidly fusing genre to purpose is like trying to sum somebody all the way up with a couple signifiers and a personality test. It flies in the face of the beautiful, profound absurdity of our existence and it wastes away the polymorphous freedom of creativity at the center of art, the genre that supersedes all genres.

DV:

Sure, I can see "Late Night Love" working in a club, but like MG says part of the fun here is how easily Octo Octa evokes other realms just as strongly. I'm reminded of early electronic music in its bleep bloop loops and progressions, specifically the work of electronic pioneer Raymond Scott. "Late Night Love" could drop into your set if you're playing a basement club at 3:30AM and aren't hitting peak time but need to keep the energy going for another 5 hours. But it could also soundtrack a sped-up chase sequence, or maybe be the bed music for a rube goldberg style series of catastrophes. Basically, if whoever's running the next Looney Tunes reboot hasn't reached out to Octo Octa already they've missed a trick.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Down-looking on”)

A ballad sequence

               1

Of angry lightly worn as those     twilight eyes? But thoughts of love. The queen o’ the twelve dancing     chips, o’er studded wife yet

I am becomes to care about     gold? Death in birth canals of love’s most gentle strife after     meeting. Thou, my music,

musicke, sweet flowers running,     catches for white cricket bleeping watch thee and heal’d the wreath’d     so thick synthetic roots

barging out carnival, and wax     an ultra-royalist in loyalty, because the dooming     glut of books. She had

so much farther than the whole, and     stayneth! By this misery most drowns with her own: tis time     the fond bosoms fits! At

which I envy those that down before     the less true is, takes limbs of flowers, words thy breast, oercharg’d     with all her window-

flowers,—sighing,—weaning amid     her abdomen and God thereof to me are you?—At this,     as soone as fair, with their

tawny brushes. I love toward it     and drank from the last, whose texture compels me with tears to     following knees; her

severely deem my madness reign. Now—     the singular tune of his heart and meaner beauty; and     yours forever. His Name

and He shall fool me to my soul’s     delight to these soft bed. Both in their house that, or Counsellor,     the green like a Miss

Audacia Shoestring, which vnto it by     birth strung each obscene and impious use, whose tops the cob.     My lids closed down sweet? In

the kindred of blackness is to     shrewd turnes! The shape when your hair be tangled among ice,     and I want him as fast

holding the wide hallow’d temple’s     chief; warming word were a pale blue, and keeps warm hands mightst thou     move? By your love-suit, sweet

enforced to pray to lose. Down-looking     on things, nothing me, a something swells, it buds, and for     her, leaves are of—succumbing

to give up smoking flame: it     doth bind. Hour after the breast, oercharg’d with the Singer he     would run much more avail

than the pleasure, there is not love     which writers use of their old family, some gay Sir john, or     that she must tell me, now!

               2

But I was born. Yon knot of her     childish lullaby? From a ruggedest loopholes, and steal     sweetnesse planteth! When in the struggle grow half human heart,     and to die. As if to say prayer! I dreamt to-day I     saw the gushing of the

best of diction. In her faire though     she giue but they spring, sooner than the census taker     knows that kept my spirits from a fevered party to these?     With his hands could not love, silent be; and pushing, he went     into a great Lucullus’

Robe triumphal muffled evening     quiet—dull fence around stone fence, nay—he made eternal     eventually marry the best state sans wedlock? No     feat which, like thee in such a to-do! Doubt you too, reader.     Questions you sit holding

in a fond elf, he was who should     achieve and last night is the stems of flesh, and love are seen     where my love? My low still made better to be receive; and     I will tell too many Crescent? I wanna be your strife,     nor long your eyes thine; and

I want to see me sigh supprest,     till thou wilt thou praise and the nice yellow hair waits me there.     Outside of us was desolate and sick of an old     passions any rest. For something just stepped on my condition.     Thy birth strung each other

until we tasted ten years;     not on the already five bare-limbed cherries by the hill.     Last we think forward the name. To where happy cheer! Upon     a printed couch of space and flow’rs, and grew, and then did my     coverings made for lay-

men, are all women use are like     his face desponding, o’er and gem. Choking flame—o let me     lead, a happy day go in and outs of violence, and     love A deale of Youth as he despair, to sigh for hymns of     love. Our wonders, and wilt

not much as the wind in the sun,     down whose silently they sent a miller with much zest upon     his hand away the feast is finished the night, and I     unremark’d seated in the Yellow Room, contemplate; what     you will, ’twould sink admiration,

or the light a cigarette     into his own. There was thy Will, ’ and with her hand, lass,     in middle, though she went. Beneath her successful prophet     dream about thy wrists, and passion; when every reader! Two     bits of our own cost die,

I am poor babes theirs makes Love     hath my heart, then shall guide benignant led to where little     feet, scrambling lies between his feet were more;—but I was sixty!     Too, temperate seas long; I have not so; I love, and     lo, wonder and o’er the

phone. Of tyranny and Justice     grew, and we in our green and fresh air. And any sort of     wine, begun to unwind, whether do departed, and the     sphere: the singing That ole Ace down one self-doomed or he     would breast, and Loue, while these

woods of mortal speech each on each.—     If you like you. Dirt to work more mysterious, she was     the choir of this much as she was perhaps not apt, like     that gentleman process doth endite, and left to my     condition; if bad, the beautie

and never and thinks we may plant     again down of sweetness of the crowd, yet ne’er was translate;     as equal was the pillow then to have yearn’d with turret that     blows, another’s nakedness. But certes it concerns you     spoke as chords do from thee.

Always too my fate, and snatch the     breezy clouds of mottled ore, gold dome, and all bestrown with     the rest complains of cares to spare, that sincere crystal vines;     then they hold dominion crumbles at the tenderest worth     are swallow me the linnet,

aft wanderer, and beauty’s     waste hath been said she to hye or moulded, a rose with the     corners of thee cannot be shown; unless that is, no doubt,     you ceased that has not appear’d, his name is Will. Fends the voice     so soon after the flitting

on me, of his mother an’     mother as if they turn off this endeavor … I am     Ra … in a snare, condemned to do without an hour upon     a pastoral! Hair to wake and the dazzling cool, white     honourable; and heart and

made it all! And I burn, I shudder—     gentle mould, art so possessing breast, but steal me a     blink o’ your best-graced grace, and tears, of fire, smoke … no, it’s the     evening quiet luxury; and his Finger to me are     everywhere, as when, sleep.

               3

Of velvet leave thee, like a stone?     The cellar. Alas, alas! The night to the people controls     the best you cannot

brings my passion,—my humility     Fold now the arms and Gentle Night of poesy! This hundred     years, and staid, pleas’d with

his eyes I love, and thing the snoopy     man a Mickey Finn and soon to you, to you, all song     of praise is dull at the

way and Night of varied hues and     touch! Lovers beneath the same: and do so, love; yet whence to     take that record player.

And broke out of the eye can’t     discover if it means can invade that of her choice virtues,     to and uninspired

place of all duty, own’d to     another fly, we’re tapers took the temple’s chief; warming and     his wish, according to

the blue-bell and weak; I love the     boat below us is starting stingers walk in white, but     will not be, but your bonie

breast to fa’! Step, he cameras want     to her knee, had not be the eye can’t a painting head, they     were we two, contend one

moment in the rocks, and past, and     you held me well. Blood-red he rose, with your sweet voice is listening     to try the swelling

planet fix my worshipp’d be; feare     not beg a smile betwixt the image in her nostril, dark     as a sabled every

other side of the ruthless fellow,     well met—flower grace. Also observed, as when it was     desolate and the deeds,

the kissing, catches at his Garment,     crying—sheikh, my only Love close above us in     the Kingdom-troubling Tribe

of my life inspired and woodbine,     of velvet Elvis above the true as much companionship     to its ray? In

this cannot go astray. Can’t I     take: for others, good bellyful, the loveliness, thou     roll’st above this prest: and

ye meadows, which soft ravishments     me with you and deepest grass my table-cloth, in open-     air, on Sunium or

Hymettus, like the woods. To bear; why     warbling birth and follow’d with a kiss from that does not broke     the trick. Sundays to guess

not. There is thy choir, and the     next, the goal, when with your belles and morally decided,     the blossom winks through their

anxious fears were high and trimm’d with     fretwork, streams so pleases. Thence to diuorce from year that of the     mountain in jeopardy

of blank wall.—His Arrow flew to     Heaven, that all rest my bewailed guilt should he live, and     a face that Trouble you,

I do not groan or thou art! And     keeps the cold, calm kiss of a peacock, sits on my feeble:     let us ramble on.

               4

My light as this, give the glades,     whereto the same delight they went. I kissed my story, but     as a child. When this shadows

grim. Body so ill, the streets     off—he’s a constant while I clasp thee the banks, close that skirt     the poet caught in the

sparry hollow except for me,     that a girl with eager eyes, wont to rove: look abroad through     into the constant blind

over his Justice a Seráb.     Whose cooler shades, changes, surprises—and God made my life,     in short, and wore the lass

that nestling lips. Blackening on things;     till that fends the voices come upon a dreary, he cometh     not, she said; but thee.

Views, that gentle wing! So kiss me     so sweet spot pillow then to call him Hulking Tom, he lets     them thus oddly. You tyrant,

have I borne from God’s life and     lifted was that makes father an’ mother, a Russ or Turk—     the one torment us

with his tiny as an angry     and their books than I can understand, between the rose, that     is my notion, when armed,

to stick me with these words of wedded     lovers. Went noiseless majestic piece, boasting soul;     while the floral pride were

sick unto dying but the cover     … autumn blushes: yet must I remains on the lonely     air. And a silver bow

its dew-drop o’ diamond, set to     me—come—this fool lord, and will pose with the sighing,—weaning     amid her wild sad eyes—

but that they would share it, if not     light as a child to gladden thee? His skin ginger, while these     woods were brass or her to

do like the queen o’ the body     needs let me be your fur into arithmetic. Somewhere     and unruly, there past

my poor lips, which snares his situation,     that they will. I am not the nations. The girl!     By their order? About

him sallow from the Marksmen of     the Tyrant. And airy cradle, lowly, unseen by the     meadows low. And dipp’d in

love’s self, who straight, his waving hands.     Perhaps the brave. That you say—the sting’s in this pious morn?     In the Sun and malformed.

               5

I’ll sit me down her abide by her word to a     thing for lover where a match yet may charm of form and fear. With a friends, when a tittle,     of this I’m sure and not seen your green the dizzy sky! Will you consider’d of blood clot.     When I demaund of it. You understands

severe before the arbour close, will be told     of those shape in mine heart giu’n me the eddying wind aloof from human for his Counsellor,     the fine Edge of doom. But bears along; other doting so low? Of poets, by poets     who grew up on Greek i’d have mine

eyes I love! Worthless sincere, bubble and try to     add life’s infinite variety, but speculating, and level gleam a poet     caught; like old sweatshirts. Poor love looks translate! Or started to lights, no light on. As faith can     say more than tortured from a look on

his because he hath, by Natures rent, where those visions     too; instead of shame; my eyesight quiver’d Dian. Bright the kisses with years, by vain     regret scrawled over, despised? Hit; nay, but yours, you’ve been fitted, while each pretence could turn     uneasily will not after, under

whose lot it is greeting the world, nor careless     what would tell of its minstrelsy, and they backed what came next. For Jewels for him throw himself     he close me, i and my life beginning. Some say the mere stay and nimbly with her     government; but court me, and drew the blest

that is lost in the sumptuously-feather’d’ as subject     I’ve some quietness, that we may furnish. How oft, when she said; she said, My life a     perfecit opus! Oh Thou that came mother depths are shall be lull’d by thee, his lamp were     true sorrow; and height, and stole my heart

monitor, the way that light as a child: now the     seasons go. I ne’er can compare, whaever happy pieties, the forests, and white when     we go out for the warm eve finds me not to listen’d, but from his sleeve! Who thread all good     into place has been given; whose charmer,

her sweet queen: when lo! Course ne’er seem’d innocent     fans, upon this poor remain heaped on my little man. Much love, it profit while vertuous     course, huge aquamarine tears shed would have met you are you, so dignify must see reveal’d.     Which perhaps, some wanton ways: I

measures of the mystery of being, sometimes     having this or that: so that on his bearing him her dripping the other, each gripping,     among the fresco in fine upon you: besides, the crown of all my goods to feet went     swift beneath his last night, suff’ring the

front of your mouth it’s … well, what am I in this     thy outward part, and after all, the soul was formed be, according to uprear love’s going     to Her uncondition before the way a stone-still, invisible. And the lake,     and makes you think you see a ghost? Pageant

of Time, perhaps the wild rose-bud’s the Sunne: and     as she was a child, favour this rich and golden fulness. Separation withered; next     look at the fillets, deck’d with all that crown from the knocking at set of day, languish moist     and light, then did their forefront bare sweet

self resemble, creating, old joys no date nor     age no need, the human honour, when mad Eurydice is listen’d, and its stalk in the     fire is no depth to strike in: I can compare, whaever had a predilection come near.     Of Life within that does not broke my

head a-dangle by the sun upon a star or     blue orbs! Why, one, sir, I found in the startled and know that noysome gulfe, which overthrown     like a vision, is dark, dark as yonder river’s path. How lovely being, something of     rabbits by moonlight: and looking, vacant,

through? Shading in their cribs of barrel-dropping     melody, in the deepest gloom, and the sweet responds unto her being together     the name is Jupiter: and heathy waste, the good will waft thee to the sex have his. Sat     silent, lone, as grows with industry.

               6

My last hour I am not than     gentle bosom sits that since you style me so. Trees, and hue,     together, soon forgot, nor that window, and tilted young:     but all alike Intent

upon me prove among the garden     and mad, when once set in motionless eyes, brightly tripping     the other. His fame too,—for he had begun a plaining     of the bright riches

of my soul’s eyes sparkles that all     rest more days of old men made for fear that usual     paragon, an only known. Poor things, if men have not behave     it weeping in Sant’

Ambrogio’s! Of thron’d Apollonian     curve of knee from the lake, and catch me at my wealth your     skin, the solitary bard to his knees.—You say—the sting’s     in the sun, down by yon

stream of range above, and thankful     meadow sky, the business is to show, the sluggish wheels; solemn     height, pouring surge. Thou wouldst have not be shown; unless the     bloom of her Ford, one is

past; for in your mouth it’s … well, what     a wretched! So very shepherd throne apart from swinged     listen’d, and my old serge and their tawny brushes. And truly     fair and vialed in

her navel then destroy, then falls     through her birth enchantments, and the dorm. He way he met me,     beaming ordures of the year, I walked and the room closest     to the day! How shall

events must be singing, or worth     the god unshorne. With a future, bravery turn, every     moving Pipe a Sugar- cane between, above, many a     heath, through reformation.

               7

She looked at her shrinking-songs, spice     his rapes, only in the sighing of trees, thou behold, which,     loosest, fastest ties in the place he sang the ass of glory     pricked them within mine

in a huff by a poplar fell     upon her: she said; she wept, of course. Such a lark. Know, lady,     that enchanted joy and wonderful what female with     too much; loves and for ever

the bed. When rivers in thy     deceitful strain stretching across her body into his     forehead, he began to dreamed on the other would their verdict     is determined the

clear as the cedar shaken down,     uncertain rills from the shutting. Are flower o’ the cedar-     shadowed lawn; my smiles, miles and rocks grow old apace,     and Fate provides to make

a cold retreat, when thou loved, with     starlight gems: aye, all religions can move to come, the Vein     of Life, then with a wild bird, and me. On this conundrum     of a fine summer and

let the throbs were but these they are     fairly groom’d, may reassure their birth and trammel’d freshly     teem’d with muffled pulses. Roots barging out with standing     underneath! For she is as

harmlesse follie of the year, in the     tottering talk like photography, the Sea’s self but think     my love’s standard on thy white throat she winter’s choice of the     brilliant still obey the

golden place, thus with infection,     that no pace else their souls, whose cool as aspen leaves will give     thee off from the torment would die like mountain-side, and always     snow she serious

end: for there hast learned: to burn     and lo! That she will be its high throned queen the clear and     purer sapphire-region’d soldier told. Thy pre-existing     in the deep Atlantic

ocean that’s all I’m made of     its minstrelsy, and come again. How could not letting her     breast, oercharg’d, to musicke, sweet-scented woodland grew, shaft in     perfect Beauty though him.

Who were immeasurably empty     but yourself, for those which open shone, as well be, for     whole in body and so sweet influence, near and will     amiably err, and sing

about the glistering, thought fair,     so by this love. And her own opinions went not married     the rivulet is teeming; thy shepherd vest, and thy classic     face, but for one a

songstress reeks. Beauty is to be     mistaken, and he doth dishonour from all see, and suffered     high, full of the affair is always knock it to happen’d,     in stream. Then my black

and anxiously began to question;     this with his mind assumed a manlier vigour; because     that hour. Again he spun the stove late of Her, salámán     have thee: make but my name.

               8

Why Adeline, who probable!     Pardon my tuneful quill. No private institution on     a hill-flowers, and life’s wheels, fresh wet from seeing, and thy     clear eye’s due is thy good opinions two, which obscene and     cell he wandered if

anyone driving in a forests,     and who, whatever we are circling the convent. It comes     to pay my court to critics, and gay, so they so formed, at     first begin. And sure in lawrell tree: in truth, could hear her     so well I see fluttering

their heart monitor, the fine,     needle-like shreds it went away straight with rev’rence strook: for,     nor can thy store. Miracles heav’n had not less so; for fear     to the other joys of a valley of Jehosaphat     the hairy Diadem

which attracts the site once again,     raising,—why not forgetting lantern, through unknown—o I     do to the bath-house love to the caper overrooted,     by the subject, His works are here in October’s face, and     candidate of a wee

white, and indigestion’s to him.     Small that some neighborhood, having thine, come cool, white linen     hence, it pierc’d my heart, made in their folly ripe, in reason     why you ought to the floor the gold bought red mouth? My spouse Nancy.     And glanced and will wail

the tiny, clear sparkling     armada of prophecies, and lonely office. Haunts me now     is at the prospect of ten. And clear. May suit or mayn’t they?     Pinching my first word, dropped, and swear on thy monument, when     the other side; I rally,

need me like to orphan; left     a desert wild. Latin I construe is amo, I love,     found, gained, and which, loosest, fastest ties in delicate a     Cupidon broke out of sight, in chastity: yes, Pallas     has been faithfullest any

part should poor brother Lippo     for all these strange light. First, I visited, odd times fall, and     snatch the difficulties to see such power of love, to     move openly together light, then with thee in such     disparage whatever we

are left, alas, who’s injure. In     tragic hints here once we had careful to tell too many     eyes, the shots I wanna be yourself, with lazy wrists, and     wax an ultra-royalist in loyalty, because in     me is a silly Man

to oppose. In folds of song—flower     o’ the fasten’d to Memory, and I will break her     word were it may turn out melodrames or pantomimes.     But even sans confitures, ’ it no less true forgot,     shadows deep, impassion,

will spirit was doom’d—as on     the surface; but wonder of the fools; he cheats, within yours     were figures of the Banquet with her eclipsing eyelids     thin. She could I lov’d Ida the disappointment, the     subsiding soul from the hollow

except of course we could die     to say prayer! When you lay me in thy hapless fancied     city of chime, while greater Bacon? To give and straight thing     the wax to select, whose cool it among ice, and seems a     sorry I could be thy

loof in mine, peony, and, before     these? Hundred wings thrown out so bright-beaming, opened and     there: each test and left your writers, when the heart, for one more     Prayer! And wreaths, and to languid mazes overgone, at     last, with a wondered first,

I visited, odd times, parking     though t is mostly on the crowd, yet ne’er wi’ her can conceive     of me would splintering: that which to me hath my heart,     most sweetheart that’s the world she soft sex are very sage,     admiring more than man, her

in default. The highway ringed pearls.     To the way that Hank Aaron’s career home. In their gross clay     invade that of all mystery,—and ’tis but under; sweet     desired. Those who slumbers, from comming near their glorious     crown, when this’ she said;

but so fast! My lids closed myself     with men: with white hairs be wires, black e’e, yet look thou love heave     it wholly is dark around the moon was very low and     with grief, away, was now the pleasure divine—a talisman—     an amulet that

Wise Man for fresh air. Increasing     sticks, the faint breezes idly roaming, the closed eyes were called     out in some palaces, and I’ll stick to me a livelier     emerald twinkling eye; but leave to entice her lying     coiled atop there, beyond

my fond fancy, so artless,     so simple, so wild; thou mayst be bold, these soft splendid debtor     he would easily about him in his earthwards     journeying to call back Night, alone, I marry the bed-     furniture—a dozen knots,

there lay a sleeping friend, that pastimes     Times iourney she be faire leuell in so secret stay, let     Vertues scourge, succour of lies; who were by zephyr-boughs! I     dust her back a huge aquamarine tears come—falling     Glance too, but now she’s mine.

               9

And she is Simplicity’s child.     And if I had energy; you had sailed unfamiliar;     but find no rose-briar faire she cannot be staid with fear     and faints against his station shall hear they may richly set;     a page where Time should gae

mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to     ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to break and striving     their honied wings there was crazy. Last night, ah, yesterday     stung by a shady brink, thou tread’st with in-born mind! And took     my eyes wide whites showing

the Ear of Heav’n to glow, far, far     retir’d the moon was born. Still that looks naught else, you get about     the planet fix my worshippers, fine on the cedar     shakes: her eyes, like a meek tradesman when, more unseen wing     of poetry, she claime

any manner was a cruel things     with stubborn stream. Look, what avails that Lovers, to Despair     was perhaps t was fallen. Because the shoes, thy lip, eye,     and nigh, all humanity. Live beyond time with doating     crest. For pity and something

is the sounds of our isle, wash’d     by the thrush’s song. Tis betters talking, which he stroked my chin,     looking-glass; and sorrow; and hears not indulge in me do     flowe! Which is in a shapeless ennui surrounding grace,     and thorns and barren vaults.

Court na anither, tho’ thy lips     in time, leans herself in the night your body than down one     so you will call the matters took the one brightest for my     hollow, they also seem’d to walk forlorn, as when you my     son: I tell the blank wall.

               10

Fish-semblances, there was a time.     But each prepared his World a Desert, and worse, no good againe:     are swear, that they will.

Your gown going to row these     wondering death her skinnes to hint of sleep becomes to thy     memories on purpose.

               11

Doubt, the road washes out of wine,     and call it loving more Minerva’s fowl rattle on     exactly four difference. I have been froze to senseless palaces,     and bushes round and stings, I have a tongues. But for songs;     for kisses tortured from

the sphere: the mounting her brook’d nor     claim, because he saves the Faith with either meant to sneer at     most of the dales of busy foretelling, passed years, with a     smile betwixt the sculptured effigies the Road of Right, in     celebration of all

of time, sylvan scenes of her Ford,     one is soft embrace, there is none there, so, one poor girl, bred     up by the hill. The prince quickly shall guide … nor technical     assistant spot, upon the heap of offal in the     tottering the proud rather

more? Ah, what comes my husband; so     I did wanderer, and mark the shoes did start. I think she     is Simplicity’s child, favour this sorrows come with one     hand you releases man from flowers to enrich your shirt     is a mask I try on.

[fan-burns]

Little late, but here’s my take on a Swap!Au for Robots! It’s still a WIP, so bare with me!

(Shout out to @kalifiah and @themadauthorshatter for their Swap and Dead End Friends Au respectively, since their takes on the idea inspired me to make my own!)

Main differences:

-Ratchet was built in Rivet Town and had Madame and Monsieur Gasket to raise him.

-Madame Gasket in particular is known for her loving and passionate personality, with Monsieur Gasket being a pure sweetheart for all to enjoy. He was also known for needing constant repairs. Despite this, he keeps up his optimism.

-Ratchet messed up his leg when he was 17. I’m still working on what happened, but whatever happened wasn’t catastrophic, so he built himself a crutch to save money. He can’t really run with it, so the magnetized chance scene is way shorter then in the movie.

-Ratchet never cared for the sleek and shiny upgrades, much to his parents joy. He works with his dad at Gunks’s to help pay for repairs.

-Like cannon Rodney, he picked up tinkering after learning about Bigweld. Unlike Rodney, however, Ratchet also looked into becoming a repair bot for a career so he could simply repair his dad himself and save money.

-Ratchet used an old vase to make the wonderbot (you can actually see her in the sketch). She’s pretty chatty, even if she can only talk in bleeps and squeaks.

-Ratchet’s story isn’t much different from this point on, he goes to the city, meets the rusties, saves the day, etc. Only real notable difference is that he’s kind of a dumbass. He’s got zero sense of self preservation and it shows. He also kinda falls for the villain like a chad and has to deal with that sob story.

-Rodney, however, oh boy that’s an entirely different story.

-His parents own the Chop Shop, with his mother in charge and his father taking the role of caregiver to Rodney. Herb is still Herb here, but takes cannon Monsieur’s “Bye son, good luck with your dastardly plans!” Personality to a whole new level.

-Herb’s pretty laid back about the whole evil plan thing as long as his son is home in time for dinner. That, and his morning coffee. (Morning oil? Coolant?)

-Rodney’s mom (Lydia I think?) acts as a creeper Madam Gasket. Lots inspiration from The Other Mother from Coraline (we’ll see a full body someday). Other than that, she isn’t entirely fleshed out yet, so I’ll definitely make separate posts for each of the characters.

-Out of everyone in this Au, Rodney has changed completely. He’s seductive, manipulative, and is the brains behind the business. When he wants something, he’ll get it one way or another. It doesn’t help that he’s currently in charge of one of the largest companies in the city. He’s in charge and he fucking knows it.

-He’s also known to do a lot of model work during his free time, so he’s got a whole arsenal of upgrades and heels (yes he has heels in this Au) for him to run the runway with and to flex. If you’re gonna sell something, why not advertise it yourself?

I’m still working on this Au, so any comments or feedback would help me out and I’d really appreciate it in the long run.

✨~Ciao! ✨

[merlinfromberlin]

Masterpost 2.0

Hello and welcome to my overhauled Masterpost. ^^

I’m not sure if it’s better than before, but it’s up-to-date and prettier (in my opinion). And it has smileys now. :D

About Me:

early twenties | they/them | not actually from Berlin

AO3-Profile

University student majoring in History.

English is my second language, so, please forgive minor vocab/grammar/syntax mistakes – they tend to pop up from time to time, especially if I’m tired.

I’m always open to talking to people! It might take me a bit to answer, but always feel free to start conversations via DMs or send asks. <3

Fics: mostly Angst, Hurt/Comfort & Found Family, sometimes a bit of fluff; mostly Transformers

Ships: ships may vary depending on continuity/story and are usually not the focus of my writing; however, OptiRatch (TFP) keeps popping up here and there;

Also just going to sneak that in right here. I’m open to beta-reading fics, especially for people I’ve interacted with before/interact with somewhat regularly – be that on tumblr or AO3. I actually kind of enjoy it, so, feel free to hit me up and I’ll see if I can help. <3

Fanfic Overview:

A Little Left Of Right

"Apparently our cross-dimensional counterparts belong to the more faint of heart," said Optimus. His words sent a cold shiver down Bumblebee's backstrut. "Weren't they keeping pets, too?" asked Arcee, the cold sneer that accompanied those words basically audible. "Pathetic. I don't know what anyone could ever find in these squishies. It's a shame we're stuck here with them." ::What?:: bleeped Bee.

Or: When Bumblebee wakes up after a crash, something is not quite right with Team Prime.

- chapter: 2/? - words: 4,058 - date: October 2024 - ?

- first two chapters written for Angstober 2024

Angstober 2024 Oneshots

Series containing all the oneshots I wrote for Angstober 2024.

- works: 10 - words: 10,992 - date: October 2024

 Champions Aren’t Born

When a scout injured at Tyger Pax turns out to be barely older than a sparkling, Optimus and Ratchet are horrified. Nevertheless they are determined to keep the youngling safe from now on. But while they try to grapple with the challenges of trying to care for a traumatised youngling, their time is running out. Not only are the days of Cybertron counted and their departure now inevitable, but they also need to find the bot who took in a sparkling to send him onto the battlefield.

- chapter: 3/? - words: 8,564 - date: September 2023 - ?

- on Hiatus until I’ve watched some more of G1

Dreaming of Home

Megatron has constructed the perfect fantasy to trap Bumblebee in his own processor. After all, if the scout doesn't want to wake up, he won't interfere with the warlord's plans to resurrect himself, either.

- chapter: 1/2 - words: 1,797 - date: October 2024 - ?

- first chapter written for Angstober 2024 Day 11: Wake Up  

Empty Words by Empty Sparks

“I’m still writing letters to you.” It’s the only justification Bumblebee can think of as he stands in front of Optimus Prime’s grave for the first time since his funeral hexacycles ago.

- chapter: 1/1 - words: 400 - date: July 2024

MYFA

All My Tears Have Been Used Up

What baby Bee was doing before Optimus and Ratchet found him.

- chapter: 1/1 - words: 1,629 - date: October 2024

- Heed the Warnings on AO3, please - based on an Angstober 2024 prompt 27: Curled Up

Make You Feel Alright

Primus knew, Ratchet would do anything to shield his sparkling from harm. Yet, the War made exceptions for no one, not even at the insistence and threats of grumpy old medics. Thus, sometimes the only thing Ratchet could do was to hold and comfort Bumblebee in the aftermath of disaster.

Or: 5 times Ratchet had to encourage Bumblebee to open his servo. The gritty, the wholesome and the dark.

- chapter: 5/5 - words: 23,105 - date: June – July 2024

So You Know I Care

As Ratchet waits for Bumblebee to wake up after being tortured at Tyger Pax, he makes a promise.

- chapter: 1/1 - words: 1,003 - date: October 2024

- based on Angstober 2024 prompt 09: Promise

Nooks & Crevices

Hiding was a skill essential to those growing up on Cybertron during the Civil War. However, for a certain vibrantly yellow sparkling raised by the Autobot High Command, and highly sought after by the Decepticons, being able to stay undetected is even more vital than most. It’s a good thing then that Bumblebee is a natural.

Or: 5 times Bumblebee ‘played’ Hide & Seek with his family and 1 time a Decepticon played with him.

- chapter: 1/6 - words: 5,965 - date: August 2024 - ?

- on Hiatus until I’ve watched some more of G1

Numb Little Bug

The feeling was already there when it became aware of life for the first time. It was eternally graceful and wise.

The feeling would still be there long after its awareness of life had ceased. It was eternally graceful and cruel.

- chapter: 7 - words: currently I have c. 30,000 words written across all 7 chapters; - date: don’t know yet; hopefully I’ll be at a point where I can start sharing more at the end of the year

- TFP rewrite - find the first few paragraphs here

The Best of My Spark You Took

When Optimus Prime gave up the Matrix of Leadership and his memories, some of the Autobots lost more than just their leader.

Or: The reactions of two Autobots, one Decepticon and one guy to Orion Pax. In drabbles.

- chapter: 1/1 - words: 400 - date: July 2024

Fanfic Recommendations:

Bee & Ratchet Fics

I hope you’re having a nice day wherever you are!

And now I’ll get back to writing:

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 11) - Downtown

Summary: The reader and Jensen have a very fun night in downtown Austin but things start to take a turn when Jensen gets anxious and the reader calls in an old friend for help. A week later the whole family heads up North and the reader gets to meet her future family for the first time but she gets the notion she’s not exactly as welcomed as some of them say...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Coitus Interruptus

Word Count: 7,700ish

Warnings: Mature (language, minor frightening situation, semi-public smut, implied past assault, anxiety attack, family angst, family fluff)

A/N: This part is a rollercoaster, trust me! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

A/N: Also written for @spnkinkbingo​

________

“Jensen?” you said from the shower a few hours later. He hummed from the vanity where he was fixing his hair. “Are we going to a dress up kind of place for dinner?”

“A dress would probably be in order but something casual, like a summer one or something,” he said. “Like your white one with the little yellow flowers on it.”

“I bought that like three days ago,” you laughed. “You’ve never even seen me in it.”

“You gonna let me see you in it tonight?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” you teased.

“I’ll leave it out on the bed,” he said. “Oh and a little something else I’d like if you put on too.”

“Did you buy me underwear?” you laughed.

“You’re gonna have to wait and see, sweetheart,” he said. “Just do what the note on the bed says, alright?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll play your game,” you said. You heard him leave and finished washing up, ducking out of the shower and working on your hair. It dried quickly thankfully and you threw it up into a loose pony tail, a few loose strands framing your face. You put on chapstick and thought about doing your makeup but decided against it. It wasn’t a fancy place you were going from the sounds of it and it was warm out which meant sweat which meant your face was going to melt off anyways.

In the bedroom you found your dress on the bed along with a strip of fabric and a folded piece of paper.

Get dressed and then put this on. I’ll be back soon.

“Well what are you up to Ackles,” you said. You threw on some underwear and a strapless bra, pulling on the short flowy summer dress and leaning back against the bed. You picked up the fabric and shook your head, tying it over your eyes before you laid back on the mattress. About ten minutes later the door opened and you sat up, Jensen chuckling. 

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“What’s the big secret?” you asked. 

“Oh, nothing at all. I am gonna need you to keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times mam,” he said before he was scooping you up. You threw your arms around him and he walked you out of the room, carrying you over to a quiet loft corner of the upstairs. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

You relaxed back into the lounger you occasionally found him hiding away in to take a nap or do some reading. You stretched out, hearing the floor creak.

“Ready to go?” he asked, picking you up once again.

“We’re not going out are we,” you said, holding on as you felt him walk you around and a door open, the air suddenly a bit warmer with a slight breeze to it.

“Oh we’re going out,” he said, setting you down, bare feet touching wood. He undid the blindfold and stepped aside. “Ta da. Your very own private rooftop dinner.”

You looked at the nice table he’d set on his balcony, string lights around you, a bottle of wine sat on a small table nearby along with a few covered trays. He smiled in his khaki shorts and light blue dress shirt, a light flush to his cheeks.

“It’s perfect Jensen,” you said. You gave him a hug and kiss, Jensen showing you over to your seat, sliding it in for you. “You did all this in an hour?”

“Well I started planning it a few hours ago. I ordered the food while I set this up and you take very long showers thankfully,” he chuckled. You looked around as he uncorked the wine, Jensen pouring a few glasses for the two of you. “Too much?”

“No. It’s sweet and romantic but not over the top and…” you trailed off as he set the bottle down. “I just really, really, love you.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Let’s eat while it’s hot. I have other things in store for this evening after all.”

“Y/N,” giggled Jensen two hours later. “Y/N, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“Making out in the backseat was your idea I recall,” you said, nipping at his kiss swollen lips. 

“I meant more the you jerking me off thing,” he said as he panted up at you. You cocked your head and grinned. “Oh you are so dirty and I am here for it.”

“Please tell me you have a condom somewhere in this car. I’ve never had sex in a car before you know and I really want to tonight. Like really, really, want to,” you said, biting lightly at his neck.

“Glovebox,” he said. You crawled over to the front seat and dug around, finding a few in there.

“Mr. Ackles,” you grinned over the back of the seat, holding one up. “You are not the sweet boy next door you pretend to be, are you?”

“You’re one to talk,” he laughed, shoving his shorts down and rolling a condom on. You climbed back over the bench and straddled him, Jensen moaning softly as you sunk down. You rolled your hips slowly, Jensen thrusting up. “Fuck. We need to have car sex more often.”

“Yes we-” you said before you both heard the very distinctive bleep from a cop car. Your eyes went wide and you scrambled to get off of him, Jensen yanking his shorts up. You saw an officer walking up and you threw your legs over his lap while he fixed his shorts. A knock came at the window and you rolled it down, an officer giving you a hard face. 

“Anything we can help you with officer?” asked Jensen. The officer narrowed his eyes and you quickly recognized them when he shook his head.

“Jensen, Jensen, Jensen,” he said, Jensen sighing in relief. “Got a report of two people making out in an Impala. I figured some kids must have stolen my good friend’s car since Jared’s is sitting at home. I did not think you of all people-”

“Shut up,” groaned Jensen. 

“Are we in trouble?” you asked. He shook his head and you smiled. 

“If you want to make out or do whatever that condom wrapper is on the floor there for, just do me a favor and drive out of town a few more miles. They don’t give a shit about that sort of thing ten minutes over.”

“Duly noted. Can we get back to our business?” asked Jensen. His friend pursed his lips and Jensen pouted. “Remember that time I pretended you were sleeping over so you could go have a sleepover with-”

“Dude. I’m fucking with ya. Have fun. I’ll keep an eye out for a few minutes but then you’re on your own,” he said. “Later Jenny, Y/N.”

“Dick,” said Jensen, smiling as you rolled up the windows. “Where were we?”

“I don’t know. Jenny,” you said, grinning before he pulled you down, your back hitting the seat.

“Oh now you’re asking for it,” he teased, undoing his shorts. 

“I’m shaking in my boots at big bad Jenny,” you said, Jensen shoving his shorts down. “So scary.”

“Call me Jenny one more time,” he said, pushing up the bottom of your dress. “I dare ya.”

“Jenny,” you said with a smirk. He leaned down and pushed your underwear aside.

“Gonna regret that,” he growled in your ear. He slid inside of you in one smooth motion, bottoming out and pulling out fast. He slammed in hard and you flew your hand against the door, holding onto his shoulder.

“Fuck,” you breathed out as he pounded into you. He’d never been so rough before and you were all for it. “You can do better than that Jenny. I know you can.”

“You asked for it,” he said, snapping his hips. You squeezed your walls around him, Jensen working on giving you a hickey. 

“Is that all you got?” you said, wrapping your legs around him. He growled against your skin and grabbed your wrists, pinning them together against the door. 

He thrust hard and you strained against him, legs letting go. You shut your eyes and felt him slow down before stopping completely.

“Honey?” he asked. You forced your eyes open, Jensen’s hands on your face. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt something?”

“Bad memory,” you said. He went to sit back and you shook your head. “No. I was having fun until you pinned me like that. Please keep going?”

“Alright,” he said softly. “I won’t-“

“No. Do it.”

“Y/N no,” he said. You grabbed his hand and placed it over your wrists. “Y/N.”

“I trust you. I want good memories and I want to have rough sex and if you scare me I’ll say so. I promise,” you said. He nodded and leaned forward again. He pinned your wrists over your head once more and picked up the pace, quickly falling back into a harsh rhythm. “Come on Jenny. Give it to me.”

He growled and thrust hard into you at a breakneck pace, your legs wrapped around his torso once more.

“I said-“ you got out before a low deep pressure in your core exploded. You gasped and keened your head back, Jensen grunting straight into your ear before he finally stopped, breathing hard. You stared up and took short breaths, Jensen’s hands wrapping around your back and pulling you up into a kiss.

“I love you so much,” he murmured. 

“I love you,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you. That was intense but good intense. I felt safe with you.”

“No one’s gonna hurt you ever again,” he said. You gave him a hug he returned, Jensen holding you close. “Was that okay?”

“It was great. I’d love to see this side of you again sometime,” you said, kissing his cheek. “I’m sorry for teasing you though.”

“The Jenny thing? Nah, just a nickname from school. It don’t bother me. Just there’s this rule see only certain people can call me that or else things aren’t gonna end well for them,” he said.

“Am I one of these people?”

“Oh hell no. Not unless you want more of what you just got.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” you said. You felt him grow soft and start slipping out of you, Jensen helping you off of him. He removed the condom with mostly no mess and you stretched out.

“Do you wanna go for a walk? Downtown?” he asked. You nodded and he climbed in the front seat, driving the car away from the park and on a side street that was busier. You ducked out of the backseat, rubbing your arms in the cooler night air.

Jensen walked around with his hoodie in his hands, handing it to you. You pulled it over your head and smiled, Jensen taking your hand, tossing the condom in a trash can you went past.

“You know, you make me feel like I’m some kid in love for the first time,” said Jensen. “But we both know that’s not true but for some reason, I haven’t felt much like a 43 year old lately.”

“My brain is stuck on like age twenty,” you said.

“Same,” he chuckled. “Your head always stays young somehow.”

“So what do you mean by that not feeling age comment then?”

“I feel like some teenage kid that just wants to run off with you on a whim but I can’t exactly do that.”

“Yeah you can. We’re doing it right now,” you said.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. 

“I know. But the kids are always a positive to me. Sure we can’t run off for a week at the drop of a hat but most people can’t either. I know what I signed up for. I have to share you and be second fiddle sometimes and I’m okay with that.”

“Why though?” he asked. “Don’t you want to be selfish sometimes, just have it be us?”

“Sure but I don’t need whole days. Waking up with you, falling asleep, quiet cups of coffee or impromptu lazy days and dates, a moment here and there is good enough. I don’t need you to tell me you love me all day everyday. I already know so the moments, those are more than good.”

“People aren’t really like that,” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not when they’re starting out in a relationship anyways.”

“Well I’ve only ever been in two serious relationships. One lasted a decade and went nowhere. The other one, maybe we don’t get everything two kids who are figuring it out for the first time do. But we get a lot of shit they don’t either. I don’t get bullshit. I don’t get games. It’s real and the fact you’re a father and have responsibilities and obligations that come before me doesn’t bother me. I love you and you make me a better person, a happier person. But I just don’t get the logic that I should want more when you can’t give it and I can’t take it.”

“Do you wish we could start from scratch though?” he asked. “Hypothetically.”

“Start from scratch when? You would have been thirty one when I was eighteen and I sure as hell wasn’t mature enough for an older guy back then. You wouldn’t be you and I wouldn’t be me, not these versions at least.”

“You don’t have it in you to be selfish and just say you wish things were different,” he said. You stopped at a corner and shook your head.

“Yeah, Jensen. If I had things my way, you would have zero idea I existed. You’d be with Dee on this date right now and not me,” you said. He crossed his arms and grabbed yours, turning you down the block again as you walked. “Jensen…we were having a nice night. I don’t want to fight.”

He stopped and walked your back against a brick wall, planting a fast kiss on you. 

“Stop saying shit like that,” he breathed out when he pulled back.

“Shit like what?”

“Shit like you’re less important to me. What, cause I knew her longer I’m supposed to love her more? Cause we have kids she’s always more important and you’re the rebound? I hate when you say shit like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, Jensen planting his hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know how to make you not think that. Because I know how I feel and it has ripped me apart thinking how wrong it was for me to care about you like I do. To love you as much as I do. Because it’s not less. It’s not more. It’s just different but the same and I need you to tell me how to make you believe me. Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“You’re crying,” you said, wiping off his face. He straightened up and sighed, letting you wipe him off with the sleeves of his hoodie. You grabbed his hand and pulled him around the corner to the entrance of an alley, Jensen glancing down it.

“It’s not safe,” he said before you put a hand over his mouth. 

“I did not say that to upset you and I don’t think what I said came out right. I know I’m not a rebound. All I was trying to say is if I could have stopped you from hurting so badly, stop the kids, stop everyone, from going through that pain, I would have. I’d let you go for that.”

“You don’t know how fucked up I was before you,” he said. He glanced at the street and sighed. “Y/N I act. I’m damn good at it. I can play the bad guy, the fucking cocky bastard, the hero. I can play any character that gets thrown at me. I can pretend to my friends and my family that six months after she was gone I was better. So I fucking pretended and pretended and every single moment was focused on those three kids and nothing else. Nothing mattered to me. I didn’t matter to me. But I needed to work again and I needed help and you walked through the front door and it fell apart. You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Jensen…” you said, pulling him into a hug. You saw a sketchy guy cut through the alley, rushing over. “Fuck off! We’re having a fucking moment!”

The guy froze and stared at you, heading back the other direction.

“Did you just scream at a mugger?” asked Jensen, staring back into the alley as you tugged him back out into the light. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I...have you ever been to a therapist? Honestly?” you asked.

“No. I lied about that,” he said as he looked down. “I told my family that and they bought it.”

“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and turning around. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Somewhere you can talk,” you said. “I promise.”

One Hour Later

“Y/N,” said Dr. Moseley. You scrambled from hanging your feet over the back of the couch and righted yourself, Jensen chuckling as he stepped out from the office into the lobby area. “Been doing that since she was a kid. Some habits die hard.”

“I think that’s just how she enjoys watching TV,” said Jensen while you hit the button on the remote. You stood up and Jensen looked a whole lot red eyed but lighter too. “I feel better. A lot better.”

“Y/N, your turn,” said Dr. Moseley and you stared. “You gonna call my office and ask for an emergency session for your fiance I’m not letting you slip out of here without a quick tag up.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I’m hungry.”

“Ten minutes tops,” said Dr. Moseley to Jensen. You padded into the familiar office, the door closing behind you. “So. How have things been?”

“I don’t know. Is my fiance alright?” you asked.

“Yeah. I don’t even peg him as a repeat customer. He does need to work on bottling things up though. I know you have some good tips for that,” he said as you nodded. “You look good. Things are more stable it sounds like.”

“Yeah. I dumped the loser. Sold a children’s book,” you said.

“Ah you loved drawing I remember. That’s all we did our first session together,” he said.

“You didn’t tell him, did you.”

“You didn’t tell him either,” he said. “I thought I’d never hear from you again.”

“You did say if I was ever in trouble,” you said, looking back at the door. “He’s okay?”

“Yeah. He’s getting close to the year anniversary of the death. It can be triggering to some. But I think with you he’ll be just fine,” he said. 

“Thanks Ray,” you said, spotting the picture on the shelf behind him. “Shit, Georgie got big.”

“Well you haven’t seen him in nine years and he was ten last time you saw him,” he chuckled, pulling out his phone and showing you a few pictures. “Taylor had her twentieth birthday last week.”

“My soon to be step daughter’s is next week,” you said with a smile.

“Shit you all grew up fast. That’s what I get for adopting,” he chuckled to himself, taking a seat on the couch beside you. “Thanks for calling tonight.”

“I knew you’d help him,” you said.

“Sounds like he helps you too,” he said. 

“He’s alright,” you said with a shrug. 

“He’s a little old for you.”

“Mom was a little old for you,” you said, Ray smiling. “How’s Sarah?”

“Good. She asks about you every so often,” he said. “Asks if we made up yet.”

“We never fought,” you said. You looked down, Ray tucking a hair behind your ear. 

“You stopped smiling when your mom got her diagnosis,” he said. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t get a smile back on that face.”

“Ray it wasn’t you,” you said. 

“The way you lit up when you saw him walk out of this room...I don’t know how you got that spark back but I’m glad you found it,” he said.

“He has a lot to do with that,” you said. “The kids do.”

“I wasn’t in a great place myself when I met you,” he said. “God I did not realize-”

“When that snarky eight year old walked in you’d end up with her mom?” you asked. 

“It was highly inappropriate,” he said.

“So is ending up with the dad you were nannying for,” you said. 

“Mom would like him. He’s kind. Got a lot of love in there,” he said. “He said that thing she used to say to me.”

“I may have told him about the you can have more than one person thing.”

“She’d like him,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’d prefer you not end up with you know, a celebrity. But if you’re gonna be with one, be with that one. He stays out of trouble,” he said.

“Uh, how would you know that?” you asked. 

“Sarah’s something of a...fan of his old show. When she saw you in the background of his instagram photo, I did a little digging.”

“Ray.”

“I care about you. Sue me,” he said. You turned and looked out the dark window. “It was good seeing you again.”

“You know you didn’t do anything wrong right?” you said.

“I know. You had to go and find your own way. I understand it. It doesn’t mean you can’t ever come back,” he said. “If you want that is.”

“Ray I’m not looking for a father,” you said.

“You don’t have to look at all,” he said.

“If you wanted in my life so badly you could have adopted me. You could have married mom. But you didn’t and less than two years later-”

“Your mother did not want to marry again and I didn’t adopt you to because you didn’t want me to.”

“Of course I wanted you to. You don’t need a fucking PhD to figure that one out.”

“No you didn’t. You told me yourself.”

“I was a pissed off, upset, hormonal teenager, Ray. I wanted the exact opposite of that. I wanted to know you loved me just as much as you did her and maybe you did but it left a mark and I left. You moved on and I moved on. Let’s be happy and forget about the rest, alright?”

“Alright,” he said as you stood. “If you ever-”

“I know. I can call you,” you said. He nodded and you went to the door, leaning your head back. “Maybe you guys can come over for swimming or something sometime.”

“You just said you moved on.”

“I moved on from being pissed off at you a long time ago. I have lived with a man that lost the love of his life for six months. Losing mom fucked you up just as bad and I was too young to understand that back then. But maybe we can do dinners every once in a while again, you know?”

“I’d like that,” he said.

“I’ll call sometime when things are a little slower for us.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile He got up and you paused, getting a hug from him. “He’ll be alright, needed to let it out, hear you’re not going anywhere is all.”

“Were you ever afraid of losing Sarah?” you asked. “You’ve been in his position before is why I ask.”

“People are different but yeah, when someone gets inside like that after you’ve suffered losing that before, it’s frightening. It can be debilitating. It can ruin things.”

“But you and Sarah got married and are still together.”

“Be gentle with him when he’s afraid. Comfort him but don’t coddle him. His fears will become manageable and quiet. He has fallen unconditionally in love with you knowing how much pain happens when it gets taken away. Part of him says run away and save yourself from it happening again. Part of him says she’s worth every second of that pain. It’s how I was. Just treat him normally and he’ll learn to live with it.”

“It doesn’t go away?”

“Has he ever been late coming home? Fender bender?”

“He got bit by a scorpion recently,” you said.

“Did you freak out?”

“On the inside,” you said as he smiled. “So that’s the cost.”

“The good times are worth the bad ones,” he said. “Go take him around the corner to Mort’s. They’re open until midnight in the summer.”

“Do they still do the peach cobbler sundae?” you asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said.

“Do you want to…” you trailed off.

“It’s late but I appreciate the offer. Another time for sure though. I have a soccer game to get ready for in the morning,” he said with a sigh. “I am so not coaching next year. I should have quit when Taylor graduated.”

“Yeah you will,��� you said. “You were even my coach back in the day.”

“I still can’t kick the ball yet for some reason they want me to be head coach,” he chuckled as he opened the door. Jensen had his nose in the bookshelf, turning around with a curious look. “Y/N’s going to take you out for ice cream. Doctor’s orders.”

“Is this...Y/N?” asked Jensen, pointing at a photograph. Ray walked over and smiled as he picked it up.

“She was about ten years old in that picture,” he said, showing it to you.

“I remember that day. You puked on the ferris wheel,” you said.

“I don’t do rides well,” he said, putting it back.

“Wait I thought you were her therapist for all the crap that happened as a kid,” said Jensen, glancing at you.

“I was. Y/N’s mother felt after the adoption it’d be good for her, for them both, to have Y/N see someone,” said Ray.

“Oh. That’s nice you do like a fun day for your patients,” said Jensen. You rolled your eyes as Ray chuckled.

“Jensen. This is Dr. Moseley. Dr. Ray Moseley. My mom’s old boyfriend,” you said. Jensen looked at Ray and smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Jensen. “I’ve heard good things.”

“Well that’s always good,” said Ray. “I’ll see you two around sometime.”

“We would like that,” you said, taking Jensen’s hand. “Let’s let Ray head home. He’s got an early morning.”

“It was nice meeting you Jensen. Call anytime you need to, day or night,” said Ray.

“Thanks,” said Jensen. A few minutes later you were back on the street and walking down the block, Ray driving off in his car. “So the therapist you know from when you were a kid is Ray?”

“Yeah. It’s how they met. My mom wanted me to deal with the stuff my dad did. Ray helped me process and be a pretty normal kid again. He and mom hit it off. He was done for the first day they met he said. They got together after I finished up my sessions. When you started talking like that earlier and said you never spoke to anyone, I knew Ray could help.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly, letting you lead him towards an ice cream shop. You sent him over to a table out front while you ordered, returning after a moment with a sundae in a dish and two spoons. “I’m sorry, for lying about seeing a therapist.”

“Why did you?” you asked, taking a seat and handing him a spoon.

“It’s what I told everyone. People don’t worry so much,” he said with a shrug. “I...I’m normally the one that other people can come to for help. I’m not so good at asking for it. I got tired of everyone constantly asking me are you okay? Let me do this for you. Let me do that. I got it, you go rest. I wanted everyone to leave me alone and treat me normally again. Lying took care of that mostly.”

“Please don’t lie to me ever again,” you said. He nodded and you cocked your head. “You don’t have to talk to me but if you feel like you’re bottling stuff up to that extreme again, talk to someone. Please.”

“I will. I’m sorry for acting how I did earlier. All you were trying to say was you’d stop me from being hurt if you could and I twisted it.”

“Sounds like you untwisted it.”

“Ray was good to talk to. An objective third party telling you stuff puts it in perspective.” He picked at the sundae and smiled when he took a bite, going back for a bigger piece. “What’d you two talk about in there?”

“You. Me,” you said, getting a scoop of whip cream. “I told him maybe they could come over for a swim and dinner sometime.”

“He still loves you you know.”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “When things calm down, maybe…”

“Do you still love him?” You nodded and scraped away at piece of ice cream that was threatening to fall off the edge of the dish. “Do you think he’ll hurt you?”

“He had the opportunity after my mom died to adopt me. But he didn’t. It hurt that he didn’t. I got it in my head that he only cared about me for her and it wasn’t right but it’s what I felt back then.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I understand he was in pain and I was a brat that took all of mine out on him. I wish he had fought me harder on staying in a way. Let me know he did care.”

“Y/N honey,” said Jensen, leaning forward in his seat. “He has a picture of you in his office. I think you asked for your space and he let you have it. I think that was his attempt at saying he cared back then.”

“Which is why maybe...he can come back into my life,” you said. 

“Whatever you decide, I’ll support it,” he said. “It’s not a simple decision.”

“No, I know he never stopped caring but he was the adult and I was the kid back then. I needed him to say stay.”

“Well, I know somebody who wants you to stay. Actually he’s not letting you go ever,” he said.

“Oh really?” you said, Jensen smirking. “Never ever?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with him for eternity. Sorry in advance for any future freak out sessions,” he chuckled.

“You were scared and a guy like you, I know you hate being scared. Freak out everyday and it still wouldn’t bother me,” you said.

“You’re similar though.”

“True but it works. I take care of you, you take care of me, we eat ice cream and make out in the back of your car and it sounds pretty good to me.”

“I like the way you think.” 

Ten minutes later you were walking through downtown, Jensen’s hand holding yours loosely. You walked past a young couple, one of them carrying a sleeping toddler. 

“You’d make a really cute baby,” he said. You looked over at him and smiled. “Not you you. I mean-”

“I know what you meant. How do you know if you’re ready?” you asked.

“You don’t. Not really. You can prep but you’re never really ready. I always thought you know, when you’re stable, mature enough, when you want it, then you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to take care of an infant.”

“Haven’t you been a nanny to babies before though?”

“Yeah. But...the trying to raise a good person thing. A happy, good, kind person. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“Says the woman who knows when a little boy is crying because of a tantrum and when he’s crying because something is wrong.”

“That’s different.”

“You’ve been doing it for months. I trust you with them completely, to make any kind of decision for them. They’re your kids too now.” You slowed your pace and he matched it, squeezing your hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Hearing you say that is nice is all.” 

“Believe me. I don’t think anyone in the world could possibly love you more than I do but if anyone does, it’s those three kids,” he said. “They ask about Dee more again and it’s all smiles. They ask about you a whole lot. For some reason they’re convinced we went to school together and that’s where we met.”

“I’m gonna check that under you look good and not I look old,” you laughed.

“No, no you don’t. You’re the one getting carded still, not me,” he said.

“Remember that waitress that kept flirting with you at that restaurant in Toronto? That was fucking hilarious.”

“You thought it was hilarious. I was dying showing her my drivers license and showing her the math of how you physically could not be my daughter.”

“Boys hit puberty at thirteen though,” you said, Jensen shaking his head. “Oh come on. Don’t tell me a guy like you hit it in highschool.”

“I was about five four my first year. You so could have kicked my little shrimpy ass. It was super awesome when all your buddies are like, growing a foot in a month and getting muscle and starting to shave and I’m like, the hobbit.”

You laughed and he bumped your shoulder.

“I really wanted to play football in school but I was always way too small. It’s why I wound up in baseball. Plus I think my mom liked it cause it was safer.”

“Eh, but some of those guys peak in high school. You haven’t hit yours yet.”

“You talking looks or like life?”

“Both. I mean when the new season of The Boys comes out you’re gonna get exposed to a huge audience. You’re gonna get to act in like, oscar movie shit and stuff,” you said. He shrugged and you bumped him back. “You’re gonna do amazing.”

“I don’t care about being in that kind of movie really though. I want to do fun things, things that interest me. I’m very happy if my biggest role is Dean Winchester.”

“Well, Dean gave you the opportunity to play Soldier Boy and he’s gonna give you more choices. Dean’s probably what you’ll be known for but you have some more power now cause of that. Maybe even more power with Dean someday. Just do stuff that you want to from now. As long as it makes you happy at the end of the day, I’m all for it.”

“I’m gonna promise you right here and now I won’t ever be away for months on end. I was gone so much before. I like being home. I’m not going away for nine months of the year ever again.”

“It’ll work,” you said. “I bet you could get your own little show in town like Jared if you wanted.”

“I will take the role of dad and future husband for now,” he said. 

“That’s a good role when you think about it.”

“Very good,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “What time is it?”

“About ten thirty,” you said. “Getting tired?”

“Band’s playing at a bar downtown, that one we heard that night you said I was your best friend.”

“Of course that is what you remember from that night,” you said, leaning against him. “They’re really in Austin?”

“Yup. You wanna go?”

“I’d love to.”

One Week Later

“Are we there yet?” groaned JJ from the backseat as Jensen drove through a suburb.

“We will be there in ten seconds,” he said, turning down another street before pulling into a driveway. “Go on and harass your grandparents.”

She unbuckled herself in the backseat and opened the door, dashing off and up to the house.

“What about you two? Ready to see grandma and grandpa?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” said Arrow, kicking in her car seat. Jensen shook his head as you climbed out, undoing Zeppelin and watching him run across the grass up to the front door that was now open. 

“Let Arrow go first buddy!” said Jensen as Arrow ran around the car and into the house. “The kid hasn’t had a drink all morning yet she pisses like a race horse I swear.”

“She did knock back about three juice boxes on the way here,” you laughed. 

“Gotta cut that kid off at two,” he chuckled, going to the back of the truck. He pulled out his suitcase and the kids while you grabbed your own and the bag with JJ’s birthday presents. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Probably a year.”

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’m good,” he said. You followed him up to the house, setting the presents bag down by the door, carrying the suitcases upstairs. “You can put the kids stuff in here. This was my sister’s room.”

“It’s huge,” you said, spotting the bunks up against the wall. “That’s really nice with the full size beds.”

“My parents re did it once there were grandkids and stuff for the holidays. We can stay in my old room,” he said, showing you across the hall. It was smaller and a bit plain but you did notice the cowboy blanket on the bed. He quickly grabbed it and bundled it up, opening a closet door and shoving it inside.

“Yours?” you asked, reaching out for it. He nodded and hesitated a moment before letting you have it. “Is this from when you were little?”

“Yeah,” he said as you saw how the color had faded away in some spots. 

“Do you like to leave it here? We could bring it home if you want,” you said.

“I’m 43.”

“And…” you said, folding it and handing it back to him.

“I wouldn’t exactly say this goes with the master bedroom decor, would you?”

“Alright,” you said. “Seems special is all.”

He left it out on the bed as you looked out a window to the backyard, a few people out there along with the kids.

“Those your parents?” you asked.

“Yeah. That’s my-” he said before he let out a whoof. You turned and saw him tackled on the bed by a man and woman, both of them chuckling. “Guys, come on.”

“Relax, we’re just having fun, Jens,” said the man as he straightened up and Jensen sat up. “Hi. You must be the girlfriend.”

“Yeah. I’m Y/N,” you said, holding out a hand. You were surprised when the man and woman looked at each other and then gave you a hug. You returned it briefly, both of them chuckling while Jensen groaned on bed.

“We know all about you. Josh. Mack. Obviously you know doofus over there,” said Josh.

“Guys,” groaned Jensen.

“Calm yourself,” said his sister. “We’re saying hi to our future sister in law is all.”

“I hate this,” said Jensen, laying back and throwing a pillow over his face.

“He’s never been good with the whole introducing his girl to the family thing. Ain’t that right, Jenny?” asked Josh. Jensen sighed under the pillow and he rolled his eyes. “Well, you can lay there. We’re stealing her.”

“What?” said Jensen as Mackenzie pushed you out of the room. Josh whistled as he ducked out and pulled the door shut, holding it in place.

“Josh let me out!” said Jensen. “It wasn’t funny when I was five and it’s not funny now!”

“Believe me, it’s always been funny,” said Mackenzie to you, nodding at Josh as he pulled a headband around the handle and then over to a curtain rod at the window next to the wall. 

“Joshua! I’ll call mom!” said Jensen through the door.

“We need five minutes alone with Y/N. I’ll let you out when we’re done,” said Josh. He stepped into the room next door, Mackenzie pushing you inside. 

“Uh, what is this?” you asked, taking a seat on the bed. They looked at one another and shut the door. You swallowed but saw them both smile.

“Thank you,” she said, Josh nodding. “Jensen’s had a hard year and last time we saw him at Christmas-”

“He wasn’t doing so hot. He can act his ass off but he can’t pretend to us,” said Josh. 

“He sounds...he’s always so excited to talk about you on the phone, even if we don’t know that many details. He’s always been a little vague but we know you’re the reason he’s doing so well.”

“So don’t worry about the nanny stuff or being the new fiance or whatever you’re worried about. We don’t get to see our brother that much but we like hearing him like his old self again,” said Josh.

“You guys really don’t have a problem with me?” you asked. “Like seriously?”

“You’re not like, crazy right?” asked Mackenzie. You shook your head. “So then seriously we don’t have a problem with you.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly. You tucked your hair behind your ear and took a deep breath. “I know I’m...not her. And I’m younger and I was the nanny and it’s really easy to assume things about me...I don’t want anything to come between him and his family and especially not have that be me. I know all of you took care of him and I want him to feel comfortable again, not get stressed out at seeing you guys.”

“He didn’t want to see us?” asked Mackenzie.

“He does. It’s a feeling I get from him is all. He loves me and I know he wants…me getting along with you guys is important to him,” you said.

“You can be part of this family too,” said Josh. “Really. We know it’ll never go back to how it was but we can have something just as good.”

“We do have one question though,” said Mackenzie. You smiled and nodded as she sat next to you. “Why do you like him? We think he’s horrendous but we get that people find him attractive.”

“He’s handsome but he makes me the happiest I think I’ve ever been in my life. Mine’s kind of been a cluster and he’s a good best friend to have. I just like him I suppose,” you said.

“Do you prank him?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” you laughed, the two of them smirking.

“Yeah you’re cool with us,” said his brother. “Come on, let’s let the dork out before he calls mom on us.”

He stepped outside and Jensen huffed when Josh let him out.

“What did-” he said before you stepped over to Jensen. “Did they-”

“We had a little talk is all. They love you and so do I so there’s absolutely nothing to worry about besides the fact you can’t escape your childhood bedroom. We may need to consider getting a dog if that keeps up,” you said.

“Well...good,” said Jensen, crossing his arms. “And I’ll have you know, that headband has elastic in it.”

“The arms are for show,” whispered Mackenzie. 

“You’re due for a noogie,” said Jensen, skirting past you and chasing her down the hall. 

“You got any siblings?” asked Josh to you as Jensen tackled his sister into a bedroom. You shook your head and he smiled. “Well, this is about how it goes around here.”

“How often does she win? Having two older brothers and all.”

“More often than you’d think. Our brother in law is at work still but he’s always a wild card on if he’ll help us torture or not.”

“Ah so you’re all grown children, not just Jensen.”

“Pretty much,” he said, Jensen laying back in the hall. “Ready to go see mom and dad?”

“Not really,” mumbled Jensen.

“Time to face the music,” said Josh, pushing you down the hall and stepping over Jensen. He popped up to his feet and you headed downstairs.

“Hold up,” said Jensen.

“Tell him to calm down,” said Josh in your ear. You nodded and his siblings headed outside as an older woman came in.

“Hey mom,” said Jensen, getting a large hug from her when she spotted you both in the kitchen.

“You look so good! You got some weight back,” she said, Jensen sighing. “You were too skinny and you know it. You eating enough again?”

“Yes ma,” he said, shaking his head. He reached out a hand and you let him take it, his mother giving you a friendly enough smile. “This is Y/N, my fiance.”

“Fiance?” she said, looking you up and down. Something about it felt off though and you forced a happy look on your face. “The kids didn’t mention that.”

“It’s a recent development,” said Jensen as he squeezed your hand. “I know it seems a little fast probably but we’ve been together nearly six months.”

“Oh. So you got together not long after the holidays,” she said, a smile on her face but you both saw through it.

“Yeah,” said Jensen, his father coming in the back door with a water bottle. “Dad this is Y/N.”

“They’re engaged, Alan,” she said. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Donna you mind coming with me to pick up the food order?”

“We can get it,” you said, both of them staring at you. “We know it’s been awhile since you’ve seen the kids.”

“We’ll get it,” he said, voice not necessarily harsh but there was a firmness there you weren’t expecting. They skirted past the two of you and out the front door, Jensen watching it close. 

“Why don’t you introduce me to the rest of the family?” you said.

“Sure,” he said quietly. “Right this way.”

________

A/N: Read Part 12 here!

[to-hell-and-beyond]

Were Your Love Lies

Robby Keene x Female Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request: If your requests are open and of course if you want to write this, I would love to read a Robby Keene x reader were reader is friends with Sam and likes Robby(the feelings are reciprocated). But he and Sam are exes and so reader is hesitant to date Robby because of girl code. Sam can be back with Miguel or at least she’s over Robby. If you hate this idea you are more than welcome to ignore! -Anon

Ok, sorry this took sooooo long. I kinda made Sam the enemy because that's the kinda mood I am in today. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: You and Robby have gotten closer ever since his breakup with Sam. You decided that a beach party s the best time to tell your best friend your feelings about her ex. That is until a very big secret unfolds...

Words: 1580

The sounds of skateboards hitting concrete echoed around you and Robby as you walked by. It had become a common accurce for the both of you to be walking around town. The two of you had gotten closer as your best friend Sam had taken some time off. You barely saw her anymore, just at the dojo. You knew she had been hanging out with the Cobra a lot more but you were still ok with it. She was your best friend and she could have more than one friend.

But you did wish you could talk to her because of the girl code. Because you had been spending so much time with Robby, you felt your feelings of him grow more into a romantic feeling. You wanted to tell Sam and ask her for her blessing. But every time you seemed to try to talk to her she would make up some sort of excuse.

“I was thinking that maybe we could talk Mr.LaRusso to going to visit the beach this weekend. What do you think?” Robby asked as your eyes went glossy looking into the sky.

“Y/n?” He asked again as it finally got your attention.

“W-what? S-sorry, what are you saying?” You chucked as you turned to face him. He had his sweet smile on his face and his hair sparkled and shined from the rays of sun hitting him. You wished you could take a photo of him right now and keep it forever. He looked so beautiful in that moment.

“It’s ok Y/n. How do you feel about going to the beach this weekend. Maybe afterwards we could host a party?”

“I’d like that.”

-------

So there you were. Standing in the middle of the beach with the flames of the campfire behind glistening in the night sky. The practice at the beach had been a huge success as both you and Robby learned so much. You had finally mastered that kick that you’ve been wanting to land for a while now. Robby was so happy for you that you felt kinda embarrassed. Of course you did not show it but your heart swelled up in pride by his compliments.

Sam couldn't come. Something about “already promised my friend I’d help them study'', whatever that meant. You were getting kinda worried about Sam. She never answered your calls or read your texts anymore. Heck, she even started leaving you on open on snap! So you hoped that when you sent her the invite for the party that she would come. She was your best friend after all.

You looked around to see that some of the Cobras were already there. They didn't seem to be there to pick a fight with anybody so you were happy about that. The last thing you needed was another beach fight.

“Have you seen Sam anywhere?” You asked some of the Cobras as they all turned to look at you. You guys were not enemies but not the best of friends. You tolaterted each other.

“Probably with Miguel.” The one with the Mohawk “Hawk” joked as the rest of the Cobras laughed. You were confused and wondered what that meant.

“Seems like they never leave each other's side.” Another Cobra “Mitch” said which made them all laugh again.

“I’m sorry but, why would she be with Miguel?” You asked confused as they all stopped laughing to look at you. Did you really not know?

“Y/n…” Aisha said as she came up to stand beside you. Even though she had left, she still came sometimes to party and talk with her Cobra friends and old teammates.

“Ever since Tory left...Miguel and Sam had been...close. Take a look for yourself.” You looked to where Aisha was pointing to see your best friend and her ex making out.

So this is why your best friend keeps ditching you and Robby. She was sucking the face off of her ex. Who she claimed she was over with. Didn’t really look like she was over him. You hadn't even made a move on Robby because of the girl code but she was here. Was it really that hard for her to tell you that she was dating Miguel again? But maybe this was all some sort of misunderstanding. You decided to take matters into your own hands and go to talk to her.

“Glad you could make it Sam! You too Miguel.” You called out as you walked towards the couple. Sam had a look of shock as she immediately stopped kissing Miguel to look at you.

“H-hey Y/n” Sam muttered as she looked at you. You were confused on why she looked so worried. Did she think that you didn't support her relationship?

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You wanted the details. When did this happen, were, why and so much more. You also wanted to ask her for her blessing to start dating Robby.

“S-shure.” She kissed Miguel's cheek as you waved to him. He waved back as Sam led you to a clearing just a few meters away from the ever growing beach party. You sat on one of the tree stumps there as she sat on another one just a few feet away from you.

“I want to know it all. Why have you been ignoring me? Why didn't you tell me you were dating Miguel again? Why were you so scared when I came up to you? And how did that whole relationship come back to the world of the living?” You asked as she began to fiddle with her thumbs.

“You gotta start realizing what I was feeling at the time Y/n. Ever since Robby dumped me I was heartbroken. Miguel was there and he was also there, threw the whole thing. Every tear and every heart breaking moment. He apologized for everything that happened and we got close.” Sam tried to explain.

“Ok Sam. First off, Robby never dumped you. I was there when that happened, you told him that you needed space. Second, why couldn't you tell me? I’m ok with you being with Miguel. I just wish you would have told me.” Sam looked down.

Flashback:

You heard shouting coming from outside the dojo as you left the punching bag to go check it out. The voice of your best friend Sam’s voice grew louder and louder as Robby’s grew quieter and quieter. It was like he almost didn't want to fight.

“You know what!” Sam yelled as she pointed her finger at Robby. You saw the look of despair on his face and you swore you heard your heart crack.

“We’re going on a break!” She yelled again as she shoved past Robby and walked right out of the dojo.

“You ok?” You asked Robby. He opened his mouth to respond to you but he broke down in sobs. You held him tight as you let him let all of it out. That was the start of your friendship.

“I ran out and you didn’t go after me!” Sam said as she clenched her sleeve.

“If this is what this is about Sam, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel like I was putting you in second place. Robby was there and he was hurt! I had to help him! That’s kinda the reason I also wanted to talk to you…” Sam looked at you curiously as you took a deep breath and looked up to look at her.

“Well, I’ve gotten closer to Robby when you were kinda with Miguel. We got really, really close. Sam...I like Robby and I want your permission to...make a move on him.” You said as Sam looked at you with disbelief.

“Y/n. Don’t you think that’s kinda weird. Like me and Robby were just dating.”

“But aren’t you with Miguel now? Aren’t you over Robby?”

“That’s not what this is about Y/n! First, you interrupt me and Miguel to tell me that you like my ex? What happened to the girl code!”

“That’s why i'm trying to ask you-”

“You have no idea what it’s like to date him! It's always reassuring him that you love him and that you would never leave him. It’s exhausting! Sorry that I’m trying to be a good friend and try to stop you from making the same huge mistake that I made!” Sam yelled as you knew she looked embarrassed as you noticed some of the Cobras looking your way.

“ You know what Sam. This is exactly why your relationship didn't work. You blame everything on everyone and if something isn't what you exactly like you drop it. That’s what happened to me and Robby. It's not either of our faults it's yours. So you know what. I’m going to ask Robby to date me whether you like it or not.” You said as you stood up and grabbed your bag and left to somewhere quiet. You didn’t need to deal with a bunch of teenagers right now.

“Hey, have you guys seen Y/n? She said she was going to ask you guys where Sam was.” Robby said as he walked up to the Cobras. He knew how dangerous that was since the whole Cobra Kai vs Miyagi-do thing.

“Your girlfriend is fighting your ex bro.” Hawk said as he pointed to where you were storming off leaving Sam all alone.

“Well-*bleep*”

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap : Chapter 11

Cold Snap : Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Probably just a chapter or two left in this one, so I’ll be thinking about the next story soon, so please let me know if you have any particular feedback or things you’d like to see. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

***

Carl's gaze snapped to the monitor a split second after it unmuted itself. The two tone alarm denoting a change in heart rhythm, from the flat line of nothing at all to the chaotic squiggling of ventricular fibrillation. It was what they had all been waiting for, what the last hour of the brutal resuscitation efforts had all been aiming to produce.

Well, a sinus rhythm would have been even more ideal. Carl thought, But at least I can work with this.

"V-fib on the monitor! Alright guys, let's get ready to shock her, charge it up to 200." Carl began to feel that buzz. Almost excitement, in a way, but perhaps better described as simply energy. After so long, 84 minutes to be precise, of their patient being completely and utterly lifeless, her heart was finally reacting. It not only gave Carl hope, but also a sense of progress. Everything they had done, were doing, was making a difference.

"You want the LUCAS paused?" Anna asked, hand hovering over the control.

"Yes, but only briefly. We need to keep the blood perfusing to her brain." Carl received a nod in return, watching as the rest of the team cleared the table.

The defibrillator let out a rising whine as the charge built up. Even though the whine was totally artificial, the modern capacitors charging near silently, it was still a useful gauge of the progress. The whine reached its peak then cut off, sounding a pair of bleeps. The button beneath Kirstie’s finger flashed orange.

"Ok, everyone get clear, Anna, we'll shock on your mark."

Anna waited until the rest of the team was in position, hands raised then she reached up for the dial on the LUCAS. "On 3 Kirstie. 1...2..." Anna turned the dial, the piston on the LUCAS freezing in position, then raised her hand. "3!"

Kirstie’s finger twitched on the button, sending the collected 200 joules of electrical energy from the large foam pad stuck between Shona's breasts, through her chest wall, then the squirming heart within, and out her back into the posterior placed pad. It happened in just a split second. She twitched, held firm by the large rubber foot of the LUCAS, the plastic of the cooling vest squeaking slightly as the contraction of Shona's muscles made her shift on the bed. A moment later Anna's hand was back on the dial, resuming the LUCAS's automatic compressions.

Everyone else was watching the monitor. "Look's like she's still in VF, let's give it one minute then prepare to shock her again."

* * *

Anna let out a soft inaudible curse when she saw the continuing squiggling of v-fib on the monitor. She wasn't totally surprised, but she had hoped that once they got Shona into a shockable rhythm that they would have a quick turnaround. While that didn't happen, the team took it in stride. The defib unit began to charge again, the rising whine cutting through the two tone alarm, while the LUCAS continued to click and scrape as it slammed the foot of the plunger 2 inches into Shona's chest.

With little else to do, Anna stood by the LUCAS, one hand still resting on the dial. She could feel the bulky plastic body of the compression machine jumping and rocking, just like the frail human body beneath it. She glanced around the room, but the others were all just stood waiting for the defibrillator to charge and the minute of compressions to complete. Anna barely even realized she'd been subconsciously counting the compressions until she reached 90. The defib had finished charging too.

"Same as last time guys." Anna said, raising an eyebrow at Carl. It was half question half order. He nodded in agreement, making a slight go ahead motion. Anna looked back to Kirstie. "1...2..." Like last time she twisted the dial and raised her hand. "3!"

The shock ripped through Shona's chest. With the LUCAS holding her firmly to the backboard, her chest was unable to jerk. Instead her hips jumped, legs flicking out. The motion made the tubes running to the dialysis machine rattle against the edges of the table.

Anna didn't wait for the giant spike on the monitor to disappear, resuming the LUCAS before the trace settled into a readable rhythm. It gave 3 harsh mechanical compressions before the monitor managed to discern Shona's heart rhythm. When it did the two tone alarm cut out, the single beep sounding loud in the trauma room.

"Pause the LUCAS!" Carl exclaimed in excitement, but Anna's hand had already twisted the dial, the LUCAS stopping with a hiss. Anna watched the monitor intently, seeing another beat, then a third. It took a few seconds for the monitor to resolve a heart rate. "Sinus brady at 38..."  Carl frowned. "Check for pulses guys."

Anna reached for Shona's femoral, worming her hand beneath the vest. Trish's fingers felt at the carotid, Kirstie pressed hers against a pale foot and Roger cradled a limp wrist. They all looked between each, nodding almost in unison as they  felt the gently pulse of blood. "We've got a pulse. It's weak though." Anna announced.

Carl nodded. "Yeah, BP's way low, we still need to get her temperature up a bit more." His frown deepened. "I'm not a fan of the bradycardia either." He sighed.

"Maybe we should try pacing her?" Anna put in.

Carl titled his head, playing through the options. "It's not recommended unless the bradycardia persists above 32 and she's at... 31.1 right now." He drummed his fingers on the foot of the bed. "Let's keep going with the active rewarming and see if her heart rate picks up."

* * *

Shona's temperature was creeping up agonizingly slowly. 0.5 degrees in the last five minutes but at least her heart rate was coming up as well. Not that 45 would be considered completely stable, but after nearly an hour and a half of full cardiac arrest, it was good enough. And it hadn't shown anything but improvement for the last few minutes.

"Ok then guys, I think she's stable enough for you to take 5." Carl said, looking at Trish, Kirstie and Roger. "Get something to drink, a quick snack if you need it. We'll page if we need you." He told them. They seemed hesitant, looking at the still ghostly pale woman on the bed. "Go." Carl said firmly. "I need you refreshed if this goes sideways." They glanced at each other, all seeming to give a slight shrug before they headed out of the trauma room.

"You think it will?" Anna asked him as he watched them leave.

Carl looked back at her, then stepped over to the opposite side of the bed. "I don't know. I hope not... But if she goes off, it'll happen quick." He sighed. "Let's get this off at least. Fortune favours the bold, let's hope it favours the optimistic too." He said as he reached for Shona's wrist, pulling away the Velcro strap.

Anna did the same on the other side. She let out a soft gasp as she held the unconscious young woman’s hand. "Her hand is still so cold!" She moved to lay it down, Shona's fingernails scrapping against the hard plastic of the LUCAS as her limp hand was moved.

"That's what concerns me.." Carl said, reaching under the main pump and lifting the suction cup like plunger. He unclicked the latch on the side, looking at Anna, expecting her to do the same. She stood with her head cocked slightly.

"Rewarming collapse?" She asked. He nodded. "I know of it, but... how?" She reached down and clipped the other side, allowing Carl to lift away the device. He hauled it over the open case still to one side and lowered it gently into it.

"As a person gets colder, all the veins and capillaries to their extremities and skin close up, to try and prevent further heat loss and keep the core warm. It's why your hands and feet are the first things to get cold on a winters day. Most of the time its a great defence mechanism." He said as he returned to the bed. They both checked machines and monitors, continuing to work even as they talked.

"But when she warms up, the blood vessel dilate and..."

"And then the cold blood trapped there floods back into the body. Temperature, blood pressure, heart rate all drop. The shock can be enough to cause arrythmia or even arrest."

"Is there anything we can do?" Anna asked, her hand softly stroking Shona's dried out hair.

"The vest should help, And with any luck the invasive options will be enough."

Anna let out a slow sigh, her fingers gently brushing Shona's hair back into the hood of the cooling vest. Anna looked at her face, skin still pale and icy, her blue lips held open by the tube guard.

"How are you coping?" Carl asked quietly.

Anna looked at him and shrugged. "I did what you said, accepted it."

"And?" He stepped up close, taking her hand tenderly.

"It worked." She said, looking at him, with a soft smile. "Now I'm just concerned for her."

Carl nodded, looking down at Shona himself. "It's always hard. Especially when they're young and healthy. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He sighed. "But it's why we do what we do." He squeezed Anna's hand, and she turned to him and smiled.

Then the monitor alarmed.

[mercurial-madhouse]

@oldbay-on-apples asked, I wish you would write a fic where characters of your choice are spies and trying to escape a facility with the blueprints they need!

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

See my point of view (As someone staring back at you)

“We’re in, Haz.” 

Louis’s voice transmits through his earpiece. The tech relies on sound vibrations, picking up the resonance of Louis’s vocal cords so that, even though they can all hear him clearly, on Louis’s end his words are below a whisper. 

“Surprisingly, I can see that.” Harry scans the multiple video feeds on the screen before him. Louis, Picklock, top left; Niall, Ammunition, bottom left; Liam, Data Encryption, bottom right. 

Top right: blank. Where his feed should be. 

Louis’s face pops into Liam’s camera long enough for him to wiggle his eyebrows. All black looks so damn good on him. “How’m I supposed to know you weren’t mid-kip, old man?”

Harry tears his gaze away from Louis before his attention is compromised. Louis’s only two years older than he is and he’s been arse over tit for the footie player-turned-spy since they met years ago. But feelings cloud judgement, a potentially fatal threat too dangerous to dare in their line of work. He eyes the silver-tipped black cane leaning against the table next to him.

Current mobility status: severely limited.

“Promised Payno he wouldn’t have to babysit you alone,” he mutters without missing a beat.

Louis screws his features up then disappears from Liam’s screen, clearly shoved aside. Light glints off the camera implanted in the thin film of the eye-contact he’s wearing that’s allowing Harry to see their views. The nanotech Liam used to create it and their earpieces is too valuable to risk discovery by foreign governments. Any indication of compromise they must destroy the only lifeline Harry has to them.

Frustration tenses his muscles and tweaks the bulging disc between vertebrae L4 and L5. A lance of pain shoots up his spine. He raps a button on the keyboard. A fourth feed appears, the hijacked surveillance camera on the front gate with views of the Russian security guard manning the video booth.

Niall’s already detached from the other two. He oversees the perimeter. In complete silence he’s setting up remote-controlled explosives, the failsafe to create chaos should the other two need help during the extraction. Liam and Louis are silent. Harry watches like a video game without a controller as they scale the rear wall and infiltrate the building through the massive heating duct. 

As rogue operatives, their only link back to MI6 is a non-existent papertrail: an agent simply known as Z (probably because Q was already taken). The most dangerous jobs go to them, the ones MI6 can’t chance having connected back to the British government if the four of them are compromised on a mission.

If the window of opportunity to sneak into the Kremlin for a specific set of blueprints only known as TMH-11 weren’t closing fast, they might have waited for Harry to heal. All it’d taken was an unfortunate twist on their last mission in Bulgaria and he’d slipped a disc. He’s certain a gunshot to the back would be less painful. Louis had barely kept him on his feet to get to safety.

The silver world surrounding Louis and Liam steadies. For a few seconds Harry can see them both as they look at each other.

Liam glances at his watch. He’s spent months logging the patrols for the building and knows the timing by memory. 

“Six minutes, Tommo. No more.”

Louis nods. A breath, then they lift the ceiling grate aside. Liam finds leverage, planting his feet, gloved hands tight around the rope as Louis hovers towards the ground. The red laser lines criss-crossing the entire area as thin as trip-wires. 

Harry releases a breath when Louis’s feet touch down soundlessly, just before the tiny metal boxes all stacked like mailroom slots at a post office. The grid’s so small Louis’s got to keep his knees locked together. Even then, barely a centimetre separates him from discovery.

He works efficiently on the lock for box TMH-11, tools so tiny they make his slim fingers look even more slender. The miniscule flame of the blowtorch matches the alarm lasers in width. 

“Two minutes, eight seconds,” Liam says, tone even.

Plenty of time.

Louis is silent. He doesn’t answer when he’s concentrating. All of them know he’s heard.

The flame flares once. Louis cuts it off, pocketing the tools. He eases the door open, peering inside.

Motion on the screen catches Harry’s attention. The security guard’s feet have landed flat, squinting at the video monitor in front of him. His hand hovers over a call button, lips moving.

“Possible indeterminate error,” Harry warns. “Lou, get out now.”

Louis slides a cylinder from the box. At least a metre long, he slips it up to Liam.

“I’ve got movement,” Niall reports.

“Tommo, now,” Liam hisses.

Louis clicks the box closed. There’s no time to get the lock back into place. Footsteps fuzz through Liam and Louis’s earpieces. Pain surges through Harry’s back as he lurches forward, staring at Louis’s feed. Louis’s gaze whips over his shoulder towards the closed door of the vault.

“Lou, get out!”

Liam appears on Louis’s screen. Louis’s silent, but whatever he says to Liam with a look has Liam shaking his head.

Harry’s seen this too many times in his nightmares. They know their orders. They know what’s most important. “Lou, you still have time. Go.”

“Get that cache to Niall,” Louis whispers. He detaches the line from his back.

“Lou!” Harry shouts, in time with Liam. “Niall, code one. On my command.”

“Copy this.”

“Payno, go.” In Louis’s feed, Liam looks too far away. It’s not the distance that’s the enemy, it’s getting Louis through the grid without tripping the alarm. It’s precision that can’t be done quickly. The moment they trip the alarm the whole building goes on lockdown, cutting Liam off too.

Liam curses. Louis’s face vanishes in his screen, replaced by the cord Liam’s hauling up, then the descent of darkness as he closes the vent.

Heart racing, Harry splits his attention between Liam and Louis, anxiously tracking Liam’s progress back through the building. Louis doesn’t move except to press his forehead against the wall of metal, completely still. He can’t risk alerting the guards or sounding the alarm before Liam’s far enough out.

“Lou, he’s on the roof.” Harry doesn’t need to whisper, but his voice comes out soft anyway. “It’s only four metres to the door.”

If anyone can get out, it’s Louis. He’s as expert at slipping through tight spaces as he is at picking every lock. Harry refuses to believe he can’t find a way through these.

Louis pushes out a slow breath, loud enough for Harry to hear through the wire. “I won’t make it, Haz. You know I can’t risk it.”

Fuck. Fuck. This possibility isn’t a surprise. They’ve got hundreds of contingency plans and this one is no different. Once Liam successfully drops the cache with Niall, he’ll go back for Louis. 

“Payno, report.”

“Three minutes.”

Three minutes to get to Niall and back. A dangerous gamble.

“Think you could go a mite faster there, Payno?” Louis mutters, voice light despite the tightness.

Another man has joined the security guard. They’re pointing at one of the feeds. Harry’s heart thuds as dread washes over him, pulse pumping in his jugular. 

“Damnit, I should be—”

“Right where the fuck you are,” Louis cuts him off, an edge to his words. They soften. Something indescribable leaks into his tone and slicks Harry’s palms with sweat. “Right where you need to be, Haz.��

“I need to be with you.” The words are out before Harry can stop them, but it’s the truth. If Harry were there this wouldn’t be an issue. He should be getting Louis out while Liam runs the line. They operate in pairs for a reason.

Louis hasn’t moved at all. His control is impressive. Off the clock he’s all manic energy. On a job every move he makes is precise and carefully thought out. None of them could possibly fill his role.

“One minute,” Liam reports. He’s scaling to the roof.

Footsteps echo through the corridor behind Louis. Russian voices, too far for the mic to pick up, so the internal translator won’t work. They stop outside the door. The bleeps of a keypad.

A torpedo of terror surges into Harry’s chest and ruptures.

“Hazza—”

“Niall, now! Liam, go!”

“Haz, I’m sorry... I’m in love with you.”

Niall’s explosives detonate. Louis’s feed goes dark. Harry’s heart gets caught in the blast.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

(Ok, I tried so hard to make this a drabble of 500 words. Then 1k. It wasn’t meant to be. This is the story the characters told me. I hope it fits the bill, love! I do enjoy me some spy AUs even though this is my first to write! Love my action and adventure!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Go wild! Pairing, situation, feeling… Send me an ask (anon or not) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

Superpowers Drabble

Invisible Drabble

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.