#ty for letting me send him to forde

[heliacalrisings]

Innes was in love with him.

A stack of missives laid on his desk, correspondences from Renais. Inquiries and reports that needed his approval. They had laid ignored for several hours now.

Innes was in love with him.

Candle light flickered along his wall, the wick now short from the hours spent. instead of sitting at his desk, Ephraim was pacing his room, boots thudding softly as he moved. He spared not one glance toward his desk.

Innes was in love with him.

Ephraim ran his hand through his cerulean hair and let out a long sigh.

For a time as a child, he'd strived to earn Innes's friendship. Their competitions had always been good fun, but at some point he realized that Innes didn't see it the same way. For many years his only close confidants, outside of his sister, had been Forde, Kyle, and Seth; people that were so close that they were all but obligated to be his friend. He valued these relationships, but Innes had been the first boy outside his circle he wanted to befriend. That, due to Innes's similar station, he could befriend.

When he became friends with Lyon, he realized just how far the gap stretched between he and Innes. At some point, he'd simply stopped trying to be his friend, at least not in the way he was with others, and taken their rivalry as it was even if he thought he'd never understand Innes's ire.

Well, now he did.

It was a shock at first, almost unbelievable, the information still registering even as Innes stalked out of the escape room. It wasn't until the other day that they got the chance to speak again. That encounter had somehow turned out more awkward but at least the matter had been settled. Mostly.

By all reasoning, this shouldn't matter to Ephraim, at least not as much as it felt it did. This frothing swirl of emotions had thrown off his focus, now too restless to sit and too irritated to do his work. Not at Innes, but also at Innes, and at himself, and at this situation. At how he'd tried for years to be his friend and felt the sting from falling short. He was too old to be thinking this way, had too many responsibilities to contend with. He wasn't some child waiting for a playmate anymore.

Ephraim suddenly stood, grabbed Reginleif, and exited his room. It didn't take long to find the familiar blonde ponytail that belonged to his friend.

"Forde," he called, "train with me." Assuming the other would follow, he stalked past him with a hellbent focus on doing anything to rid himself of these feelings.

@renaisguy !

the things we lost

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

Don’t know if you’re still taking prompts but if you are you should totally write about ford eating out fem!stan for the first time plz🙏

hey anon! sorry i took a really long ass while to respond to this since i couldnt think of any specific scenarios to write this prompt of that wasn't just, you know, the prompt— but it finally hit me like a truck today! and also cuz i was sick and doing this in between homework djdndhdsn

anyway, VERY explicit under this read more, since i got SO carried away, hope you dont mind its the geezers pre-weirdmageddon in this one AND that you dont mind a little sex pollen also ty ty ty so much for your fem!stan request i love it when people enable me dhdndhdbdu also sorry to everyone who exoected a "read more" but tumblr hides my stuff when i do that so heres the warning, please scroll if thats not your thing

~~

"Constance, get down!"

"Wha—"

It was too late. Cloud of pink glitter exploded in her face and sent her into a coughing fit so hard her lungs shook in her ribcage. She drops to the floor and hears Ford's "Constance!"

Then she hears him fire his space gun. Just out of her periphery was chunks of blue goo that would be a fucking bitch to clean out of the walls and carpet, but la di da, there it was. There isn't a second to groan about that or the way her breathing turned heavy when Ford runs to her side, grabbing at her arm and forcing her to her back.

"Constance, are you okay?"

"Stanford..." Stan wheezes, turning her head into a hafl glare. "What... the HELL was that...?"

Ford's eyes narrow, inspecting her face, before his thumb brushes against her cheek. Stan shivers, a full body quake and confusion over taking her while Ford inspects his thumb. From down here, Stan can only stare because what else can she do when she's down, dizzy with virtigo from whatever magical poison that got sprayed across her face.

From down here, Stan feels the heat from Ford's grip, the pads of his fingers and the large mass of his palm against the bare skin of her arm, tickling the nerves underneath into sending sparks that go through her body and meet at the coil of her stomach. Even Ford's knee, under all that cloth and was much father from her face than Stan seems to think it is, illicited some deep, twisted something in Stan again she hasn't felt in a while.

"Ford?"

Ford's eyes snap back to her, blown and widened with alarm. Suddenly, he grabs her arm again, slips it over his shoulders, the other encircling her back. Stan thinks, alright, he's going to help me up, before a squawk rips from her throat when his arm loops under the back of her knees and lifts her to the air.

"What are you—?!"

"No time to explain, let's go," Ford says with all the urgency of a man on a mission. Carrying her out of their fairy-thing-guts covered living room with way too much ease, he sprints into the giftshop, ignoring Stan's confusion and dragging her into the basement.

It doesn't take a too long to find herself sitting on Ford's desk, trying to pump the breaks on the now doubled speed of her heart and the vibrations that run through out her body, working its ways to adjust to the surrounding. When Ford plopped her down and breathed the same air she did for less than a second, she felt it— ignition to an burnt out furnace suddenly bursting to new life. there was so much heat simmering through her veins, her nerves, every god damn thing was way too much to handle.

She's hot. Ford's desk and the glass plane behind her was cold, cold to a chill, and her thighs clench and rub together, onto the desk, aching for that rub of friction because she needed something hot, hot now, just as hot as her. Her mouth was dry, all the spit went on her tongue to her lips. Things— way too many things jumble in Stan's head, ranging from what the fuck is happening to holy shit, when did Sixer get that strong.

What stood out the most through was her brother saying he messed around with fucking nymphs, and all morning he's been hunted down by them. The one dead by their living room? A fucking nymph-assassin.

"Sixer, what the hell?" She pants, and oh God, she's panting? When the hell did that happen? Stan sucks in a breath again when Ford turns from rummaging through his stuff again to finally throw her a glance. Red hot heat crawls up her neck and she bites down on her lip when his eyes zero in on her squirming, her thighs. Stan might've thought she saw his jaw flex but, fuck if she wasn't also just going delirious.

"Why the hell were you messing around with those things in the first place?"

"I needed something from them, Constance," Ford answers measuredly, and Stan hears another racket from him looking for some goddamn thing through out his mess. "I've made an ammicable deal with them in the past, and now they're pushing for more. That's out of my control."

"I bet you backed out of that deal," Stan accuses, because it was pretty clear to them that Ford wasn't a god damn master of trickery or whatever. "What, you tried to swindle them for more of this fuck-powder? You know they sell viagra at the store?"

"That wasn't what I dealed with them for," Ford mutters lowly and, damn, if it were any other time, Stan would make fun of him. Stan would tease him, laugh at the embarrassed pout on his face, the bright red flush over his cheeks and ears. But she can't, not when Ford's back was what she's staring at, the broad, plane of his back and wide slopes of his shoulders, hidden under that stupid trenchcoat and sweater combo.

Where they could be ripped off and Stan could see all the things she never would have imagined her cute, nerdy but unappreciatedly handsome brother growing into if not for the one perk of getting shoved into a portal to whole universes of things trying to kill him. When she couldn't imagine him getting any hotter than he already—

They're back, those stupid god damn fantasies. They came at night, they came in the morning. They came whenever she and Ford would pass each other in the hall in their mutual agreement of no-talking, and his shadow almost engulfs her completely nowadays, and all she thinks is how stupid this whole avoiding each other thing is and they could be siblings as thick as thieves again.

Or even better— Ford could shove her into the wall and kiss her until she can't breathe. He could let her push that coat of his shoulders and sweater off his back so Stan's hands could crawl up them again. He could bite her neck, unbutton her blouse and pants, put one of those big palms to use and grope and squeeze around her tits, put those extra fingers to use and slip them into her pants, underwear, her, while Stan barely holds herself together biting at the firm skin on his shoulder.

Put that smartass mouth to use and say "Thank you, Stan" or "You're so good for me, Stan."

Get on his knees and put that mouth to even better use if he'd just shove down her pants, place his hands on her hips, nose against her bush and his mouth on her—

It takes a second too long to realize, but it happened. one hand slid between her legs, pushed the fabric of her boxers away to brush at her wet and even more senstive pussy. A second too long to stop that haggard mewl that came out of her lips.

A second too long to see that Ford finally turned back with a jar in way too tightly gripping hand, staring slack jawed at Stan behind his glasses.

Fucking great.

"Constance," Ford breathes shakily, and no, this can't happen. Their relationship can't get any worse, and sure Stan is gross for thinking about her brother that way, but she can't help that they're coming at the worst time, when she can't hide in her room far, far away from the basement and ride on her fingers to quiet cries of Ford's name.

"G-God, don't be so dramatic about it!" She says, sweat prickling at her neck. "You-you've seen me change and get naked before! This isn't that different!" Because there wasn't totally a difference between getting used to changing infront of your brother when you could barely live in one small space together when you were kids to touching yourself to them, right infront of them.

Right?

Man, she's such a sucker.

Shame is mixing with her already sizzling skin, and she needs to go. Take that jar-of-something to her room and figure it out on her own because obviously, Ford already wanted nothing to do with her and would want it even less now. Goddamn it, this would be so much easier if Ford didn't have eyes that were identical to hers, but wore it with that cutting stare that tore through her. Since they were teens and she was in denial about getting off to her twin brother who stared a little too hard— or even since forever.

Or at least if she wasn't still so hot and bothered thinking about him where she thinks she might've already came to his god damn desk.

Stan starts pushing herself off of it, face sweaty and pink. "F-Fine, I'll go. Just gimme that antedote and I'll—"

Ford closes the gap quicker than a lightning bolt, the jar already rolling on the floor and Stanford's mouth already crushed against hers, all hungry and desperate like he couldn't physically hold himself down anymore and their glasses knocking askew. He's nudging himself between her knees, his hands onto the fat on her hips, and shit, did he just moan? From just kissing her? Oh damn.

"Nevermind that. I think I have a better antedote," Ford says against her lips. "I'd like to test it out."

"Just fuck me already, Sixer, oh my God."

Stanford lights up, smiles like he won the damn lottery or fifty research grants or whatever. He dives right back in, kissing Stan, and sinking twelve nails into her hips as he drags them together. Stan groans, feeling the already hard tent go even harder against her, and her skin is on fire again, but this time melting the frigid parts of nerves into a liquid heat that's flowing directly down into her stomach, warming her up inside. Ford's hands move quick, from pushing the straps of her tank top down until she feels breeze touch her nipples to taking no sensitive measures to tugging and eventually ripping her boxers off her. Ford pulls away, and drags is mouth onto her neck then chest and Stan finally gets to put her hands on his shoulders, how big and strong he's gotten. One goes through his half greyed hair, and even when he was a teen she loved the dark, curly mop she'd pull into a noogie, but now it just makes him look better.

It makes her so mad, specially with what a grade A dick he's been. But she can't be that mad when Ford reaches her boob and takes a nipple into his mouth, nipping then sucking hard. "Shit—" Stan hisses, and there's nothing more to say than that.

"Fuck, Stan," Ford mutters against her skin, his breath tickling with the wetness on her nipple. "You drive me crazy."

"You're the one who fucked– ah– with Nymphs," She points out, and yeah maybe she could be a little jealous about that, but it dissapates when his fingers make their way into the warm, wetness of her pussy, just as special as Stan imagined it'd be. "Were– hh– they g-good lays, at least?"

"Not what I dealed with them for," Ford repeats, like that answers anything, and sinks loudly onto his chair, right between Stan's knees. His eyes drag down slowly on Stan, from her definitely fucked up hair, to half down tank top and tits hanging out, to right between her legs, and if Stan wasn't full on blushing then, well she sure was now. For a second it looks like he considers taking off his glasses, before deciding against it. Nerd.

Hooking the back of her knees over his shoulders, he smirks up at her again with that tear-her-apart stare again. "I doubt they'd ever taste this good."

Before Stan could respond to that, Ford's face goes between her thighs and his mouth is on her. If Stan thought she almost came earlier, then she's holding on for dear life when Ford's tongue laps at the outside before sinking deeper into her, sending shockwaves through out Stan. Moaning against her like he's the one getting head, like he's getting off from the taste of her on him alone. The flat of his tongue pushes against tight muscle, the heat almost pulsing, and making the wetness there grow more and more

Fuck, just Holy shit, how did he get this—

"Oh!" Stan gasps, one hand finding her own breast and the other on his desk, barely feeling the cold anymore with the clashing heat taking up her whole body, and all she can really feel is Ford's nose bumping against her bush when he only lets up for his teeth to graze against the nub of her clit while his fingers take over below. Stretching her out with his big, thick fingers, just so he could watch her like some pervy, old—

Then he sucks gently on it, and Stan is seeing white.

"Shit– Ford, I'm–"

"Just let it out, Stan," He says, still mostly against her. "You've been so good this whole time.

Thick thighs closing around Ford's head, that's what does her in. Of course it is. Her mind completely blanks out, turning to the white static on TV for a few moments until she realizes she's riding the rest of her orgasm on Ford's mouth at the end of it, while he laps it up like he'd die if he doesn't, like he's the cursed one.

Stan could barely register the murmurred whispers of her name and the movements of his arm from under the desk she's on until he's letting out a shuddering breath, forehead against her belly. Stan couldn't help the grin lighting up her face then.

Great, at least she's not the only one.

Just like that, the heat... doesn't really leave. Just wrapped around her cozily like the trenchcoat Ford threw over her when he finally stands up, only to drag Stan back on his lap. She's not getting used to that thirty years long honed strength anytime soon.

"Suppose I have a new more effective measures now," Ford says, lips finding Stan's, and she could taste herself on there, passed like a secret.

She's not getting used with this affection either, but Stan wants to see Ford try.

They stay a couple of moments there basking in this glow, until Stan peers up again, scratching the back of her neck when realization hits her.

"Hey, Sixer... you're the one cleaning that carpet upstairs, right?"

[ouijarat]

Too Weird to Love, Too Scared to Die.

Chapter One

(This was just a silly goofy idea that my partner convinced me to get out of my brain and onto the internet. This takes place in an alternate Weirdmageddon Finale scenario. Btw I hardly ever write and this is my first fic like ever so PLEASE BE NICE TO ME and let me know if y'all like it. Ty <3)

_________________________________________

“I’ll give it to you!” Stanford Pines’ voice echoed from the cage and through the cavernous hall of the fearamid. The world seemed to stop as Stanford’s once beloved Muse-turned-monster’s gigantic eye turned from the two children in his grasp he was about to send to meet their maker a moment ago and onto him. Bill’s gaze was as blinding as the sun. 

“I’ll give you the equation, Cipher! Just… don’t hurt my family… please.” 

Bill stared while Dipper and Mabel’s terrified expressions drilled themselves into Ford’s mind during the stillness. Just as Dipper opened his mouth, seemingly to protest against Ford’s decision, Bill’s shrill, inhuman laughter enveloped their senses; the sound loud enough to rattle one’s skull and make one’s ears bleed should they stand too close. 

“Oh, Sixer! I just knew you’d come around~!” The demon cackled smugly, depositing the young twins on a high up support beam, safe for the time being yet out of their uncles’ reach. The grotesque, gargantuan form of arms and teeth and tongues the triangle had reverted to when angered began to shrink back down to size, the red fading back to yellow as he looked down at Ford with as much sick satisfaction a creature without a proper face could possibly express.

“I’m so happy you’ve finally, finally come to your senses!” 

Stanford looked over his shoulder to glance at his brother, expecting to read contempt, maybe anger at Ford for not thinking of something fast enough; but when their eyes met he only saw fear and uncertainty. He couldn’t bear it, so he averted his gaze. He yelped as his body was lifted off the obsidian palace floor as Bill effortlessly levitated him out of his confinement.

 “I’ve gotta say, IQ,  you really had me going there! I thought you were actually gonna make me kill one of the brats!” He gently dropped Stanford in front of his now much less threatening form, straightening out his bowtie as his little heels collided with the ground with a small click, making himself level with Ford as though foolishly trying to perpetuate the illusion that they were equals here. The laughable notion of respect. 

Ford grimaced, six fingernails digging into each of his palms as he steeled himself, remaining woefully silent. Bill was clearly annoyed that Ford refused to play into his verbal sparring, the demon’s expression souring. 

“Aw c’mon, Fordsie. Don’t be like that. Cheer up! Soon I’ll be free, and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted!” 

Ford’s eyes darted up to the two children clinging onto each other at least 30 feet above him before he looked back to Bill, his expression flat. “You could never give me anything I would truly want.” 

The triangle looked almost hurt for a moment before he laughed again, regaining his composure.

“And why’s that?” 

Stanford stared at him. “You’re selfish,” He said, his voice tainted with the shadow of disdain. “You couldn’t emotionally fulfill another person if you tried. You’re a monster.”

The demon’s eye twitched, his gaze suddenly distant as his yellow glow seemed to dim. Above them, Dipper squeezed Mabel’s hand in a vice grip, scared that Ford had just signed his own death certificate. Instead, Bill just snapped back to normal in an instant, giggling again. “We’ll see about that. But for now..” He extended a dainty black arm, his hand suddenly engulfed in blue flame awaiting Ford’s palm to complete their deal. 

“Let’s get this show on the road. Eh, Sixer?” 

Ford looked down at the floor below him, too ashamed to meet his family’s gaze as he pressed what was, for all intents and purposes, the big red button for the apocalypse. At least they’ll be safe. He held his breath and grasped Bill’s hand, memories of thirty years ago flashing through his mind as soon as they made contact. The demon’s eye widened maniacally as he cackled, his grasp tightening around Ford’s polydactyl hand as the world around him froze. His surroundings turning to black and white and sensation melting away. In a low, gentle voice Stanford hadn’t heard since he worshiped a god rather than feared a beast, Bill spoke. “You’ll see, Fordsy.” 

And suddenly Ford’s vision went dark. 

…

Stanford woke with a start and quickly shot up, having just woken from the most terrible nightmare. He caught his breath, running a hand through the graying hair that had plastered itself to his forehead with sweat, blinking blindly. His glasses must’ve fallen off the couch as he slept. Only, even for as blind as he was, he could very quickly gather that he was in… a bed. Not his bed. That was odd. He frantically groped around for his glasses, finding them neatly folded on a nightstand beside him. He pushed them up his nose with an index finger and -much to his dismay- confirmed that this was not his room, and this was not the Mystery Shack. 

Ford looked down at himself, noting the red satin pajama set he was dressed in that were also very much not his. Despite how soft the sheets were, he quickly threw them off as though they’d burned him. He stood up carefully, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet. Taking in his surroundings, he first noticed the room had no windows or interior lamps, and yet was perfectly illuminated in warm, comforting light. Everything about the decor style was so very pointedly… him. The dark oak furniture, the golden constellation map on the wall, the chess set on the desk, the detailed antique globe in the far corner. It was all extremely reminiscent of everything he had wanted to do with his basement study back home, had he had the time. This greatly unsettled him. 

He approached the bedroom door with caution, stopping in his tracks with a hand hovering over the doorknob as he heard the sound of dishes clattering distantly somewhere else in the house. Ford gulped before turning the knob excruciatingly slowly, the door cracking open with a soft creak. Nothing jumped out at him and he wasn’t immediately incinerated, so he continued on, gently pushing it all the way open to reveal… an exceedingly normal hallway. 

The walls were adorned with refined red wallpaper and ornate picture frames, the pictures inside so familiar and yet so violently wrong. Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he stared at the family photographs he had gladly kept hung up throughout the walls of the shack, except now half the family had seemingly vanished, or rather been purposely eliminated from the photos. The only two people present in any of them were himself and Mabel, leaving eerily empty spaces where his brother and grand-nephew should have been. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the image of his grand-niece, her colorful braces on display as she smiled happily with her arms wrapped around nothing but dead air. 

Ford jumped, suddenly ripped away from his horror once more as the loud crash of pans echoed from what seemed to be a lower floor, followed by a soft string of curses in at least five different alien languages, two of which he didn’t recognize. He tiptoed further down the hallway, his right hand itching to wrap itself around the grip of his gun. He distantly wondered what had been done with it, as well as his coat. He’d miss that coat. Ford mentally cursed himself for not simply improvising a weapon sooner in case whatever was downstairs tried to attack, yet he couldn’t stop himself from inching further and further into the house and toward the noise. Damn his curiosity. 

He rounded a corner and was met with a grand staircase leading downward, taking a breath and quietly descending with his back pressed against the wall in an attempt to not risk being seen. Upon reaching the bottom, Stanford froze in place, hearing something sizzling in the next room over, accompanied by the unmistakable stench of burning roadkill. He slowly peeked around the corner, his jaw dropping at the sight before him. 

He peered into what was, he had to admit, a very nice kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops. In the middle of said kitchen, holding a pan full of what looked to be a mutilated opossum over the stove, was Bill Cipher in a frilly pink apron. Said apron had the words ‘Kiss the Triangle’ printed across the front in a loopy cursive font, a heart in place of the dot over the ’i’. 

Sensing his presence, the triangular demon turned to look at him cheerfully, eye upturned in a makeshift smile. “Heya, smart guy! I was wondering when you’d wake up, sleepyhead! You’re just in time for breakfast!”

Ford prayed to every god he knew of, earthen, alien or otherwise, that he’d wake up soon.

(Thank you for reading, let me know if you want a chapter two!)

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

Part 2 & 3

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 9 - A Deal is Made

When Stan ran off, to Ford’s relief – he didn’t think he could handle any more of Bill’s cruelty towards his little brother – the demon didn’t chase after him. After his little display Bill turned to Ford with a wide, unnatural grin and lifted his arms like an actor bowing after a particularly brilliant performance.

“I do a wonderful Stanford impression, don’t I? It’s pretty easy. You’re like a broken record, Sixer, all repetitive and annoying. ‘My science project, my science project!’ But I really think I spiced it up a bit while still staying in character!”

Ford stabbed a finger at the demon wearing his skin. “You – how dare you?”

Bill merely shrugged and rifled through Ford’s pockets, letting out a little ‘ah’ of triumph when he pulled out a pocket knife. “Hah! I didn’t take you for the stabbing type.”

“It’s for self defense!” Ford fumed.

“Sure, sure, don’t wanna get eaten alive by monsters, excuses excuses.” Bill stepped back, sizing up a nearby tree. “I was looking for rope but this will work too.”

“Wait, what are you-”

Bill placed one hand against the tree’s bark and slammed the pocket knife into it, cutting through skin and flesh to bury the knife into hard wood. Ford hissed.

“That should do it!” Bill said cheerfully, watching blood drip down Ford’s wrist. “That looks like it’s gonna be a gusher, Sixer. I wouldn’t take the knife out if I were you. You never know, maybe you’ll bleed to death!”

Ford very deliberately kept his mouth shut about the placement of arteries in the human body. What Bill didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And getting stabbed through the hand couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

He soon found out, once Bill zipped away and he lunged back into his own body, that it did indeed hurt. Ford bit down a scream and fought to keep his hand still. Every twitch and tremor sent pain racing down his arm and he was very aware of the metal piercing through his hand, sharp edge rubbing up against skin and muscle and nerves.

Ford grabbed the handle of the pocket knife with his free hand (pain pain pain) and wrenched it out. This time he couldn’t smother the scream that bubbled from his lips. He dropped the bloody knife and clutched at his bleeding hand.

Calm. Calm down. He couldn’t help anyone if he was panicking.

Ford fumbled around in his pockets until he found a handkerchief, wrapping it around the seeping wound and tying it tight with his teeth. It wasn’t a long-term solution but it would stop dirt getting under the skin, and hopefully slow the bloodflow. Though the fabric was already getting stained with red.

Move. He didn’t have time to waste, Bill could have caught up to Stan already. Who knew what the demon would do? Ford took off through the trees in the direction he had seen Stan run, every step sending a flash of burning pain up his arm.

By the time he caught up with his brother he was lightheaded, a yellow triangle swimming in his vision – Stan looked so small, so confused in the demon’s shadow. Ford would not fail his brother again.

“STAN!”

 _______________________________________________________________

Ford was here. Stan’s gaze snapped up at his brother’s shout, the traitorous part of him whispering, ‘apologize, make him like you again’. He clenched his fists as Ford staggered into sight, looking kinda pale.

“Stan-” Ford caught a tree and clung to it as he struggled to regain his breath. He looked shaky, and Stan ached to go over and make sure he was alright. He took a few steps past the demon despite himself. “Stanley – listen to me, whatever Bill is telling you, it’s a lie-”

“Well well well well well!”

Stan was treated to the lovely sight of the skin on Bill’s back peeling open to reveal an eyeball, his body contorting and turning inside out until he was staring right at Ford with that neon yellow gaze.

“Just when I thought I’d taken care of you.”

Stan hesitated, the word striking a chord. “…taken care of? What does that mean?”

Bill drifted forward, placing himself in front of Stan but Ford looked right past the triangle, staring at Stan with desperation in his gaze. It made Stan’s stomach twist, made him feel guilty and angry and so very confused. He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away, Ford reaching after him.

“Stanley please. I’m sorry – I was stupid and cruel and I treated you badly because I was angry, but you didn’t deserve it. I saw what Bill said to you in my body and it’s not true, Stan, none of it’s true-”

“Shut up!” Stan stabbed a finger in Ford’s direction, glaring at him through tears. Ford didn’t even look scary anymore – just afraid, and that was the scariest thing. Adult Ford was supposed to be big and determined, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. “Just – just shut up! I don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Exactly!” Bill’s cheerful tone reverberated through the trees, making Stan shiver despite himself. “The man’s speaking nonsense, don’t listen to him.”

Stan wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t totally stupid either. He could see the ‘shut up’ glare the demon sent his brother. Bill was trying to be his friend, why was he hiding something from him?

Ford pushed himself off the tree to stand by himself, gaze still fixed on Stan. “The eyes, Stanley! What colour were my eyes, when I was saying those terrible things to you?”

“I dunno!” Stan yelled back.

What kind of stupid question was that? Stan didn’t want to think about that, he didn’t want to think about how he was a dead weight and a nuisance and how Ford was better off without him. But something – something about that encounter seemed off…

“Answer me, Stanley!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“What colour were my eyes?”

“Yellow!”

Wait.

Yellow?

“Please believe me.” Ford stepped closer, holding his hands out desperately. “Bill took over my body and he made me hurt you, more than I already have. He’s evil, he’s trying to take advantage of you and trick you into doing terrible things. And – I know you have no reason to believe me. I know I’ve treated you badly, since you arrive at Gravity Falls and before that. But please.”

Stan twisted his hands, anxiety swirling in his stomach and making him want to barf. He glanced up at the fuming demon.

“You’re all-powerful, right?”

“Stanley no-”

Bill’s body flashed lemon-yellow, his eye curling into a grin as he spun around to face Stan. “Sure I am kid! I can get you anything you want.”

“…anything I ask for? Anything at all?”

“You bet!”

“Stanley! He’s trying to trick you, he’s evil-”

“Oh shut it, Sixer!” Bill snapped his fingers and Ford’s body lurched sideways, sending him slamming into a tree with a yelp. He slumped to the grass. Stan dug his fingers into his palms. “See, kid? When you open the portal I’ll be even more powerful! Enough to give you anything you want.”

Stan looked between the prone body of his brother and the demon, and he made his decision. His hand reached out to snatch Bill’s.

“It’s a deal.”

Blue flames erupted across their joined hands, flicking over Stan’s skin but not burning, warm and tickly. Bill’s eye creased up in a grin.

“I knew you were the smart one! Now come on, name your price! Anything you want is yours, once you open the portal for me.”

Stan frowned, staring at their joined hands. The fire was the least weird thing about these last few days – it blazed warm and blue, spitting sparks every which way. Hypnotizing, almost. It was so much power – not his, of course – but flaming at his fingertips. He wanted it.

Bill released his hand, letting Stan’s drop down by his side. Stan stuffed them in his pockets, feeling the tingle of residual warmth against his skin.

“Well? I don’t have all day!” Bill heaved a sigh, folding his little stick arms. Stan’s mouth tasted sour. “What’s your price? A galaxy all of your own, right? Or a billion dollars?”

“…I want a hug.”

Silence reined in the clearing.

“Are you kidding me?” Bill’s eye hung open in disbelief. “I’m offering you your own galaxy and all you want is a flipping hug?”

Stan nodded. “Yep. And like you said, you gotta give it to me.” He opened his arms. “I want my hug now.”

Bill sighed in frustration. “I’m incorporeal, kid, I can’t give hugs. Why would I even want to touch a fleshbag like you in the first place?”

Stan put his hands on his hips. “You’re just gonna have to be corp-or-real. I know you can, you can touch and move things around! You gotta do the deal or the whole thing’s off, remember?” He scowled. “If I don’t get my hug you can’t use me to open the portal.”

“Ugh.” Bill’s form shimmered, becoming a little more corporeal – enough, at least, to interact with the physical world. The triangle’s ‘face’ screwed up. “Gross. Let’s get this over with already.”

He extended his stick-arms out with a grimace, and Stan flew in to hug him, wrapping tiny arms around the triangular body and squeezing tight. Bill let out a disgusted noise and patted his back awkwardly.

“There. There’s your hug.”

Stan pulled back enough to grin at him. “You give shit hugs.” Then he jammed the magic capsule into Bill’s huge eye.

 The triangle-

 Screamed.

 There was an explosion of light and colour and searing heat that scorched across his face and Stan was flying back, breath knocked out of his lungs. He slammed into something and that something wrapped its arms around him and swung him away from the blast, shielding him with its body.

 When Stan’s ears stopped ringing and the spots faded from his vision, the sight that met his eyes made him freeze.

 Bill was dripping, fizzling like a dying candle, his eye seeping down his figure and body glitching red in places, showing glimpses of scarlet-colored bricks and bits of muscle and scenes played in sepia like they were being shown on an old TV. The demon lurched towards them, fingers curled into half-melted claws and body pulsing with its deep, distorted voice like an earthquake.

 “STANLEY-”

  There was the pop of a rifle being discharged and a hole blew open Bill’s body. Something crackled like broken glass, and then the demon

shattered.

[woah-were-halfway-there]

For a concept, Auston trying to teach Mia how to skate for the first time?!

A/N: ok, so I was actually going to include this scene in an upcoming part of Just What I Needed, wrote some of it, didn’t love it and then scratched the idea entirely lol. But, you made me want to bring it back from the graveyard that is my google docs and so I finished it and don’t hate it hahaha. Hope it does what you were thinking justice!

Word Count: 2.1k

"You must be joking."

"I assure you that I'm not," Auston replied with a massive grin as he took what looked like a standard shoebox, but you knew better than assuming they'd be something as simple as a pair of shoes with the large CCM logo printed across it. "These are for Mia."

"Auston, she's two," you told him, not being able to keep yourself from smiling at how excited your husband seemed.

"I know, but she's a freaking walking machine, babe. I wouldn't be surprised if she picked up on skating pretty quick too."

At that, you had to laugh because he had a point.

It was the middle of March, and your now two-year-old daughter was all over the place. She loved moving and just being active in any possible way she could. With you being 25 weeks pregnant, it was sometimes tough to keep up with her. But luckily, Auston could, and you weren't even surprised that he'd try teaching her how to skate as soon as he felt she was ready.

"Could you bring her to practice tomorrow, please?" Auston asked, breaking your train of thought. "I haven't told the guys yet, but once we're done, I figured I could try skating around with her a bit and see how she likes it."

"Of course," you told him and pushed away from the doorframe you were leaning against. You then walked further into the kitchen, going right up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle before leaning against him and placing a soft kiss on his shoulder as you watched him unbox the skates. "How do you know these will fit her?"

"When I took her downtown last week, we went and got her sized for them," he explained, still grinning as he looked over his shoulder at you and leaned down so he could peck your lips. "Then, I ordered a custom pair. I also got her a helmet."

"So extra. But at least you're making sure she's protected," you teased and rested your head against his shoulder as you waited to see what the skated looked like.

Needless to say, you were impressed.

They were a classic pair of black skates, but also the tiniest and cutest pair you had ever seen. The ordinarily white patches that were on the skates were red on these and were paired with a set of light blue laces, coinciding with the two colours Mia had been claiming to be her favourites as of late. But that wasn't what really caught your eye. What stood out the most to you was how the tongue's inner part on each skate had a little AM stitched into them.

"AM?" You asked and glanced up at your husband, expectantly.

"Amelia Matthews," Auston said proudly before closing the box and turning around in your hold so that he could wrap his arms around you. "What do you think?"

"I think they're adorable," you told him honestly. "She's going to love them."

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," he responded and leaned down to catch your lips in a much longer but very sweet kiss. However, the moment was short-lived when a rustling noise sounded through the monitor that was sitting nearby on the counter, followed by Mia's groggy voice calling for you. "Looks like our girl is up from her nap."

"Looks like it," you agreed and stood on your tiptoes to place one more peck on his lips. "She doesn't know you're home yet. Wanna go surprise her?"

"Always."

~*~

The next day around the time you knew practice would be ending, you and Mia headed to the Ford Performance Centre to pick up Auston. Mia was very excited to see her dad, Mitchy and the other guys, but you were looking forward to seeing how this whole skating lesson Auston had planned would play out.

Once the two of you went inside, it was obvious the guys were just finishing up and would soon be getting ready to leave. They were all huddled up, going over some final things, when a distinctive noise sounded over the guys' muffled chatter on the ice.

"Daddy!" Mia exclaimed excitedly as soon as she spotted Auston, loud enough for everyone to hear. And it wasn't long before Auston's previous sombre-looking demeanour melted away at the sight of his daughter.

Everyone laughed before accepting that it was now the end of practice, and there was nothing else to go over for now.

Auston then skated over to the boards as you set down the bag with Mia's skates in them and other belongings on the bench before turning back around to face your husband.

"Hi, Mini," Auston greeted as he took Mia from you and kissed her on the cheek, making her smile widely before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him.

"Hi, daddy."

Auston then looked back at you and leaned over the boards to peck your lips. "And hello to you too."

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness but couldn't keep yourself from blushing a little bit. It was ridiculously easy for Auston to get those butterflies that resided in your stomach to flutter like crazy, and he knew it.

Just as you were about to say something back, another voice ruined the moment as they approached.

"Miaaaaaa!" Mitchy exclaimed as he skated up to them, holding his arms out so that Auston could pass his goddaughter to him, not stopping at all, just taking her and skating around a bit as she giggled and clung on to him.

You and Auston watched the two go, grinning widely before he turned back to face you and winked.

"You're looking mighty fine today, Mrs. Matthews," he flirted and leaned against the boards again, smirking at you. "That's a nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?"

"Your side of the closet," you replied and winked suggestively. "Looks better on me, anyways."

"You're not wrong."

A moment later, Mitch returned with your daughter but didn't give her back as more guys came over to say hi to her.

"Whaley, mommy," Mia said as she leaned against Mitch's shoulder and pointed towards her stuffed whale that was resting on the bench beside everything else. "Please."

"Are those skates?" Mo asked as he nodded towards the bag as you moved it to grab the whale and handed it to Mia.

"They are," you confirmed, making all the guys standing nearby light right up.

"No way," Mitchy said as he held onto Mia's whale so she wouldn't drop it. "Are you going to try skating Meems?"

"Uh, huh," she replied before waving to Freddie as he skated over too.

"Well, this should be good," the goalie said as he came to a stop and reached over to ruffle Mia's curls.

"We'll see how it goes," Auston chuckled and took Mia back from Mitch. "C'mon, baby girl, let's get you laced up."

You watched with a smile as he came off the ice and set Mia down on the bench so that he could put her skates and helmet on for her. The guys just about melted over how freaking cute she looked wearing skates for the first time, Mitchy even going to the extent of grabbing your phone from your hand so that he could snap a couple of pictures as Auston finished tying up the first skate.

"You better send those to me," he told you firmly as he handed the device back.

"Yes, Mitch, I will," you responded with a pointed gaze. He then glanced towards the other guys, who were now closer to Auston and Mia, before leaning near you and lowering his voice a bit.

"How're you doing?" He asked and gave you a sympathetic look.

"I'm ok," you told him honestly. "I've been feeling better lately. Just trying to take it easy, so this little one doesn't give me any more troubles."

You then smiled at your cousin and rubbed a hand over your growing belly, making him smile too.

"Good, please keep me posted about everything. I worry about you, and if you ever need Steph or me for anything, we're only a text away."

"I know, Mitchy. Thank you."

Before he could say anything else, Auston was picking Mia up from the bench and taking her onto the ice, which soon captured all of his attention again.

"Steph's going to be so mad you didn't tell her this was happening," he stated before skating off towards your husband and daughter.

A slight feeling of panic washed over you because you knew Steph would most definitely not be impressed by you not telling her that Auston was trying to teach Mia how to skate for the first time but then figured sending her some videos would make up for it.

However, even that plan was soon scrapped when another set of footsteps approached and soon enough, Steph herself was brushing past you.

"Can't believe you were going to let me miss my goddaughter skating for the first time," she grumbled as she set down her bag and grabbed her phone before walking towards you and giving you a sideways hug. "But hi, I missed you. Feeling better?"

"Much," you told her with a chuckle and returned the hug before nodding towards the ice. "Missed you too. Are you ready for this all to go down?"

"Yes!"

The two of you then leaned against the boards, side by side and started recording as Auston set Mia down on the ice.

"Daddy," she gasped nervously as she slipped a little bit once her blades touched the slick surface, but Auston was still holding on to her.

"It's ok, Mini," he told her. "I got you; just keep your feet down. I won't let you fall."

He then started pushing off the ice slowly and continued holding her up as the two glided across the ice together. She wobbled a bit, but the longer they did it for, the steadier she became. And she was having the best time going around like that with all her guys out there with her.

Eventually, Auston let go of her once he was positive she could stand in the skates on her own without falling. He stayed level with her, though, ready to catch her if need be as they moved onto the next part of the so-called lesson.

"Ok, baby," Auston started as Mitchy sat on the ice in front of her, no more than two feet away with his arms extended towards her. "Try to get to Mitchy."

"Ok!" She replied excitedly and went to take a step towards him, but slipped and increased your heart rate. "Woah!"

But Auston caught her, causing you to let out an audible sigh of relief as Steph snickered from beside you.

"Told you I got you," Auston told Mia as he helped her stand upright again, then got down on the ice too just so it'd be easier to catch her again, which everyone knew was inevitable. "Always."

For the next ten minutes or so, she tried to make it across the small space that separated her from her Mitchy. She wasn't too successful, which was to be expected, but she gradually became more confident and was genuinely having fun.

Mitch moved a little bit closer as they were getting ready to wrap it up for the day, and on Mia's very last try, she managed to shuffle across the ice into Mitchy's arms.

The other guys, who were now joined by Will and a few others, had skated away a little bit and were gathering pucks left from practice all stopped to watch her final attempt, then cheered and hollered as they watched her do it.

"Yeah, Mia!" They all yelled before quickly skating over to them again, not leading up on their cheering as they approached your very excited toddler.

"I did it!" She squealed happily and smiled at each of her guys as she held onto Mitch so she wouldn't fall.

"You did!" Mo said while taking her from Mitch and sat her on his shoulder as he began skating around. "We'll make a hockey out of you, now won't we?"

"Only if she wants to," Auston chuckled as he stood back up and skated towards them to take his daughter back. "Good job, Mia!"

The way she was absolutely beaming as Auston held her close again, and she immediately clung onto him as he skated back towards the bench had you feeling so happy, it was unexplainable.

You loved everything about your little family and those who have become the most important to your little girl. It was moments like those that reminded you just how loved she was. And that thought alone made everything seem right.

[sammy-gvf]

We get along (for the most part)

Chapter One.

OC x Lee Bodecker

Warnings: None for now. Just some cursing.

Plot : The local rebel badass girl and Lee Bodecker have had run ins, lets see how it goes, shall we? 

MINORS DNI !!!!! Eventually this story will get 18+. I dont feel like getting in trouble because of you. Thanks a bunch. 

Evan Rachel Wood ( Across the Universe 2007) 

( personally in my head this is what she would look like but you can interpret her anyway you want!)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My name is Margaret Lane, well Maggy. 22. Born May 2nd 1947.

The resident bad girl, don't worry, I gave myself that nickname.

I have lived in this tiny, middle of nowhere town my entire life. Same people, same gossip.  There's no escape. No matter how hard I try, something always stops me. I live with my parents and little brother here in Knockemstiff, Ohio. My parents and I have a mutual understanding of “you go to work and come home and then we don't talk”, which is fine with me. My little brother is the only one I can really rely on. He is 17 years old and he is really the only person in my family that I can really talk to. I mean, I have friends but they aren't living in the same house as me. Not yet at least, we are thinking about moving out all together.

High school is where I built my reputation, of course. Used to sneak around with Arvin Russell, which led me to meet Lee Bodecker. Sneaky ass sheriff used to follow my every move, making sure he took every opportunity to bust Arvin and I any chance he got. 

Had nothing better to do than to bust on teenagers who were sneaking out to their parents, what a loser. Along with gaining some parking tickets and speeding tickets along the way, we became acquaintances. Thinking about the future, I was dying to leave this town. Never got the chance to after high school, hopefully I will as soon as i'm done college. 

 I can say whole heartedly that I do NOT enjoy Lee's presence. That man memorized my license plate number. Stops me all the time, for no reason. 

Flashback 

It was a warm saturday evening, about 7pm. I had just got some college work done. Figured it was too nice to just sit inside, right?

 I get up out of my bed and put my school stuff in my bag, walking over to my closet to put on a pretty yellow flowy dress and grab my leather jacket, that'll go nice with the breeze coming in through my window.

I put my hair up in a bun and slip on some keds, something easy ya know? 

I turn off the light in my room and walk into the living room where I see my father asleep on the couch, I walk over to the counter and grab a little piece of paper and write “going out for a drive, be back soon” and put in on the table in front of my father so if he wakes up, he knows where I went. 

I actually have a lot of freedom compared to other girls my age, many girls my age are looking for husbands and/or their parents are trying to set them up with someone. My parents know who I am, I was so against having an actual boyfriend so I just slept around. Obviously, people at church got wind of it but I didn't really care, to me men are there at my disposal. I play the field for my own reasons. 

I grab my keys off the door in the foyer of my little house and head outfront. 

I head down the steps of my house and waltz towards my red little 1964 Ford Mustang. Worked for it all by myself. 

Getting in the car, I pop a cigarette in my mouth and light it up. Keeping the cigarettes in my car was my best bet, my father would kill me if he knew I smoked these things. Turning on the car, I throw in a Led Zeppelin cassette, immediately Whole Lotta Love starts playing. What a good song to drive to. 

I put my windows down and start driving down a long road where I know for a fact no one drives this time of night, partly because they are afraid of the sheriff, Lee Bodecker. 

Lee doesn't scare you, never has. 

Blaring music at high volume was what you  were known for in these parts and you could really care less about the time and how loud you had it. Music is a really important part of your self expression. 

Speeding down the road, cigarette in my mouth screaming the lyrics 

You need cooling

Baby I'm not fooling

I'm gonna send ya

Back to schooling

A-way down inside

A-honey you need it

I'm gonna give you my love

I'm gonna give you my love

 I smile and listen to the lyrics, I feel like such a rebel. People in these parts don't listen to this type of music, devil music they call it. They think it has some deep down evil meaning. I just shake it off, they wouldn't know real music if they tried. 

 I could just leave right now if I wanted to. Drive out of town and start fresh, no one would miss me. Except my brother and friends. They are really the only people keeping me in this dead end town. 

The cool breeze enters your hair and you lose your hair tie. Fuck. 

“ Damn It”  You say as you put the cigarette down and try to look to see where it went. It's nowhere in sight. 

“ I have to pull over to get this thing” you think to youtself. It's the only hair tie you own right now.

you light another cigarette and pull my car over to a slightly darker side of the road. You get out of the car and start searching for my hair band, it had to have fallen behind your seat. 

 Of course, you saw familiar blue and red lights pull up right behind me.

“Fuck me” you mutter as you turn around, shut the car door, kick the dirt under your feet and lean up against the car , patiently waiting for Lee to take his good ol time walking to me.

Lee exits his police cruiser wearing the typical uniform with the typical toothpick in his mouth.

You watch him as he slowly strides over towards you and You roll your eyes at him as he eyes you down, prick.

“Well, well, well, Ms. Lane. Fancy to see you here.” Lee says smirking and laying one hand on your car's trunk. You scoff at him.

“ Hands off the car, Bodecker. Thought you'd know better than to touch what's not yours.” You say looking over at him, taking a drag of your cigarette. Lee scoffs and walks over to you, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and crushing it with his shoe. Your jaw drops and you look over at him in disgust as he chuckles at your reaction to his doing.

“Pretty little ladies like you shouldnt be smokin these, could make ya look ugly” He says. 

You can smell the tobacco smell coming off him, the smell of mints sticking to his breath. He is a little closer to you now, you back up and grab your pack of cigarettes out of the cup holder in your car. Bending over, the sheriff gets a nice view of your backside for a split second.  

“Sheriff, I would like to respectfully say I do not give a fuck what a man thinks about how I look smoking a cigarette, I am not here for a mans enjoyment. Also, one more pet name and I'm telling your wife.” you say as you light another cigarette and the sound of Led Zeppelin is lingering in the background, Lee clicks his tongue and looks over at you.

“Ms.Lane, you have quite the mouth on you. Not very ladylike for a woman your age.” Lee takes his hat off and leans against your car. He lights a cigarette and stands there for a minute. You look at him confused and you roll your eyes. 

“Lee, besides bothering me, do you have a purpose being here right now?” You look at him and say while you take a drag of your cigarette. Lee looks over to you and laughs. 

“Well, I just seen a car parked all by itself on the side of the road and I was on duty anyways but then I saw your license plate and figured I'd see why you, little lady, are out all by yourself at this time of night.” Lee says throwing his cigarette on the dirt ground below him. 

You turn to look at him and finish your cigarette, leaning against the car still.

“ I appreciate your concern, Bodecker. I am just out for a drive and pulled over to find my hair tie, it came out while I was driving. Pulled over to look around for it, don't want my hair in my face while I am driving. Also, not a little lady. I am grown.” You say turning away from Lee and finding your hair tie, you turn to Lee while tying your hair up, smirking you say

“ Goodnight Officer,also don't follow me again, yeah?” You say climbing back into your car and you slowly pull away.

Lee stands there watching as you climb back into your car, the smell of your perfume in the air invades his lungs, dumbfounded, he smirks and laughs to himself. 

“Smart girl” Lee says as he smirks and turns to go back to his cruiser.

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You had noticed sometime down the road that there was a car following you with no lights on, you had just assumed it was some random person but with one certain lick of light you saw the sheriff's face in the mirror of your car mirror. Figuring that out, you went a little faster down the road and then you lost your hair tie, you knew what was coming. 

You look in the car mirror to look at Lee. He's already turned his car around and started driving the other way. You werent dumb, you know from the years of Lee catching you sneaking out and drinking and or having boys in your car as a young girl, he knows your moves. It makes you think he patrols these parts so he can catch you doing something dumb one day just to cuff you up and get some control. He never does. 

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 Two people with reputations in this town. 

 How bad can it get?

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Hi everyone! Welcome to my first fic! Lee Bodecker is quite the character and I have been wanting to write him for a while. Dont forget to leave some opinons so I can know what yall would want to possibly happen! Dont forget to like/reblog! It would mean the world. I am not sure about my posting schedule but itll most likely be once or twice a week! also let me know if youd like to be added to my tags so I can let you know when I post another chapter! 

Tags- @please-buckme , @ladyfallonavenger , @buckysdolls , @nerdy-depressed , @do-not-pray-for-me , @unsentlettersandmore , @local-spacegirl , @youcancallmeishita , @not-another-fangirl​ , @angelicbabydolll

[sweatersexual]

Now I Want to Hold You Too

Read on AO3

The party welcoming both sets of Pines twins back for the summer had never really ended. Mabel’s friends had slept over that night, and Soos was still playing party music even into the afternoon. Fiddleford had come over for lunch and now he and Ford were discussing new projects, blueprints scattered all over the dining room table.

Becoming a man of means had suited Fiddleford. He now spoke with the confidence Ford remembered from the old days. He stood up straighter, and the healthy weight he’d gained filled his endearingly garish patterned shirt in all the right ways. Yes, Ford was happy he was doing so well, and that their friendship had been rekindled.

But Ford had to admit, feelings of friendship weren’t all that had been rekindled in him, especially when their hands lingered around each other, tracing the blueprints, or when Fiddleford gave him that familiar lopsided grin, or hearing him hum quietly the way he always did while thinking hard. Still, Ford worried it was too soon, or perhaps inappropriate altogether, to make any romantic overtures to Fiddleford. He didn’t even know exactly how much Fiddleford remembered of their romantic history. No, it was better to take their relationship as it currently was, because the fact that Fiddleford was even talking to him again put a spring in Ford’s step.

He and Fiddleford had finished making revisions to one of the cooling systems when a short cough caught their attention. It was only then that they noticed Ford’s thirteen-year-old grandniece standing next to them, her two best friends not far behind her.

“Are you two having fun?” Mabel was grinning widely enough to make Ford a bit wary. Had she planted a glitter bomb again?

“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Fiddleford’s been showing me -”

“Yeah, we know,” called Stan from the kitchen. “You two have been at it for hours. I’m gonna need you to clear the table before dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Sure thing, Stanley,” replied Fiddleford. “We were at a pretty good stopping place, weren’t we, Ford?”

“You two should join our braid train!” said Mabel.

“I appreciate the offer, Mabel,” said Ford, “but I don’t think either of us have hair long enough to braid.”

“Mr. McGucket’s beard is long enough,” Grenda pointed out.

“I bet an extra finger really comes in handy for holding multiple sections of hair,” said Candy.

“It’s definitely been useful for tying complicated knots,” Ford agreed, “but I’m afraid I’ve never tried braiding hair before.”

Mabel gasped. “Really? Okay, now we have to teach you. Are you ready for a new look, Mr. McGucket?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt none.”

Once the dining table was clear of blueprints and they took their seats in the living room, Ford noticed his heart rate pick up a little. Braiding Fiddleford’s beard was going to include touching his face, and the last time they had been in each other’s personal space like this was many, many years ago, in a . . . different context.

“Let’s start with a simple braid,” said Mabel, running her fingers through Grenda’s hair. “Divide the hair into three even sections, like this.”

Ford let out a deep breath and ran his hands along Fiddleford’s jawline, blushing at the memory of using the same movement to pull him in for a kiss, once upon a time. He was close enough to notice Fiddleford’s cheeks also reddening beneath his facial hair.

“Is this okay?” he asked Fiddleford, just to be sure.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Go on and do as she tells you.”

He could feel Fiddleford’s facial muscles moving beneath his hands - but he had to focus! Three sections of hair. He could do that.

Fiddleford’s beard was shorter and much better groomed than it had been last summer. The weird little bandage was gone. Ford hadn’t expected to enjoy the sensation of soft hair through his fingers so much. With Mabel’s simple instructions, the strands were soon woven together into a thick braid.

“That looks great!” she praised him. “You’re picking this up fast! You want to try a French braid?”

“O-okay.”

Candy turned out to be right about his extra fingers coming in handy, though it still took him a few tries to get the hang of it.

“Nice! Keep going, Grunkle Ford! Careful not to drop that strand.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Candy, pulling out her cell phone. “That boy I told you about from regionals just texted me! Do you think I should send him a selfie?”

“Ooh!” squealed Mabel. “We should take your picture outside while the lighting is good.”

Before Ford could say anything, the three girls ran out the door with nothing more than a “keep practicing, Grunkle Ford!” from Mabel. Their giggles slowly faded away.

“She’s a regular ray of sunshine, ain’t she?” said Fiddleford.

“Yes,” agreed Ford. “I’m very lucky to have her and her brother in my life.”

“Me too. You know they helped me start getting my memories back.”

“Yet another thing I’m grateful to them for.” He came to the end of Fiddleford’s beard with a hum.

“I reckon that looks pretty snazzy,” said Fiddleford, checking his reflection in the window, but Ford shook his head.

“Hang on, let me try that again, it got really messy near the end.” He reached for the beard again, more out of a desire not to end this intimate moment with Fiddleford than out of dedication to immaculate braiding.

Fiddleford grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. “Always the perfectionist.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Guilty as charged!” With a laugh Fiddleford added, “Do you remember that stupid fight we had about coffee filters? We was yelling at each other right in this here room, weren’t we?”

Ford’s breath caught. Of course he remembered. He also remembered that fight had ended with a makeout session on the couch.

Did Fiddleford?

“Yes, it was in here,” he answered. “But . . . is the yelling all you remember?”

“No.”

He said it quietly, but with an intensity that brought Ford to a rigid attention. The tender look in his eye loosened Ford’s tongue, and before he knew it he blurted out, “I’m still in love with you.”

Fiddleford brought a trembling hand to Ford’s face. “Ford . . .”

Leaning into the touch, his hands moving from Fiddleford’s beard and onto his shoulders, Ford continued, “I know that after everything that happened between us, it’s more than I could ever ask for simply to be your friend again. And if you want to keep it that way, I’ll still consider myself incredibly fortunate. But if you still feel anything romantic towards me -”

Fiddleford cut him off with a kiss, soft and tender, leaving Ford tingling as he pulled away. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, consarn it, Stanford, I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Which I did try. Multiple times. I don’t want to try again.”

“Me neither,” said Ford, and pulled him into another kiss, more intense than the first. Ford’s hands fell around Fiddleford’s waist and pulled him closer. When their mouths broke apart, their foreheads rested together, drinking in the closeness that had so long been denied them.

“The beard’s different,” murmured Ford. “But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fidds chuckled, rubbing his beard on Ford’s face and peppering him with kisses. Ford was laughing when their lips met again.

“Oh, great,” said Stan, jolting them apart. “Now I owe Mabel fifteen bucks.”

“Stanley!” Ford cried. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Literally two seconds, sheesh,” said Stan, leaning against the doorway. “I just wanted to tell you dinner was ready, not watch you make out like a creep.”

“And since when do you gamble with the kids?”

“Since when do I not gamble with anyone? I really shouldn’t have bet against Mabel’s matchmaking skills, though. I just thought you two were so repressed, you wouldn’t know a gay urge if it bit you in the rear.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Just because I like to keep things private doesn’t mean I’m repressed, Stanley. I accepted the fact that I’m gay back in college, when we first got together.”

“Really? So Mabel didn’t start your relationship, she just got you back together. I think I can make this work for me.”

“You give that girl her fifteen dollars, Stanley,” Fiddleford insisted. “I never would’ve guessed that braid train business was a setup. That girl is good.”

When she came in for dinner and found Fiddleford and Stanford holding hands, Mabel squealed and accepted her winnings with relish. Though Dipper was less exuberant, he did say that their getting together was “neat, real neat. You guys are, like, the ultimate science power couple.” Even Stan admitted that despite all the teasing, he was happy for them.

“It gives me a lot of hope for the future,” said Ford as he walked Fiddleford home that evening, “having that kind of support from family.”

“Don’t it?” Fiddleford concurred. “Those kids ain’t growing up with the same limits on self expression, or love, that we did. What a blessing that is.”

“For so long, I felt like I didn’t have a future,” said Ford. “Everything was about stopping Bill. But now, the possibilities are endless. This is the freest I’ve ever felt. I’m so glad I get to share that with you.”

“I feel exactly the same way.”

Ford kissed Fiddleford then, right there in the street, not caring at all if anyone saw.

[kafka-ish]

stuck between a rock and a hard place | s.u.

after one fateful night, stan uris finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place when him and his friend like the same girl.

word count: 5,428

warnings/included: pining, love triangle, fem!reader 

request: (from anonymous) “could you write a bill denbrough, reader, and stanley uris love triangle? maybe where they’re always trying to one up each other for her attention? ty”

-

“I don’t get what you see in her.” Stan was eyeing y/n from across the cafeteria while Bill droned on for what must have been the fourth time that week about how amazing she was.

“Wuh-well, you wouldn’t under-st-hand.” Bill shook his head. He wasn’t about to try to convince his friend how amazing she made him feel. It was just how he felt.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get it.” Stan squinted at the girl’s figure. Sure, she was pretty, but looks aren’t everything. “And I don’t get why you insist on sending her things anonymously.”

“If yo-you liked some-someone, wuh-wuh-wouldn’t you want t-to sh-show them?”

Stan’s gaze which was previously fixed on y/n switched to Bill. He gave him a glare because he didn’t understand. “If I liked someone, I would tell them,” he scoffed.

Bill could see where Stan was coming from. The only issue was that he was just too nervous to tell y/n, let alone talk to her. The two shared chemistry and a study hall period together but Bill still hadn’t found an excuse to talk to her. He also hadn’t found a way around his stutter. He wanted his moment with her to be perfect; no stutter, no embarrassment; just the two of them sharing a mutual conversation about whatever… and her finally realizing he’s the perfect match.

He shrugged at Stan’s remark. So, what if his friend didn’t understand? That only meant less competition.

“Hey guys!” Beverly drew both boys’ attention away from Bill’s crush. “There’s a party tonight. Whatd’ya say we all go together?”

“Count me the fuck in!” Richie was the first to reply, enthusiastically at that.

“I have a test tomorrow.” If Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers wanted to do something irrational, he’d be loaded.

“All the more reason to get drunk off your ass.” Richie Tozier had a grin on his face that there was no use wiping off.

And if Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers had convinced him into doing something stupid, he’d be stupid loaded.

The party was at who-knows-where’s house serving who-knows-what.

“Stanny! Stan the Man!” It was Richie Tozier, the convincer himself. He slurred Stan’s name and tripped his way over to the corner Stan was huddled in. “Yougottatrythis.” Richie’s words were incoherent and if he hadn’t been friends with Stan for so long, or were shoving a red solo cup full of something Stan didn’t want to know was in, Stan may have never guessed what his friend was trying to say.

“No thanks—”

“C’monnn.” Groan. “Don’t act like you’re above us, just cos yer sober.” Richie gave him a mopey look that Stan was sure was just another way to mock him.

‘Stan the Man’ did eventually take the cup. Not because he wanted to, but because of the way Richie was jerking it so much, he was afraid some of the contents may spill on his shirt, which he just pressed. Curiously, he brought the plastic cup closer to his nose so he could examine the contents inside better.

His nose twitched at the scent.

It reeked of stale beer, vodka, and was that someone’s mom’s wine?

And although the thought of drinking alcohol before an important day was tempting… Stan knew better. Making an appearance at a lame party rather than studying would be the worst of his crimes tonight. He held the cup away from his face, as far as possible, and started watching the morons around him.

They were drunk to their stomachs; happily grinding against each other to the beat of the music that blasted on the radio. They wouldn’t remember this night if they tried.

Stan, however, would remember. He would remember every detail of this boring party, where no one talked to him; where there’d be throw up in the pool to clean out the next day; where the cops would show up in an hour because the houses next door called in complaints. And Stan would be able to pass his Algebra test with ease the next day while everyone else would be using what was left of their braincells to remember how to factor an imaginary number.

“Hey!” Oh god. It was y/n. What was she doing next to him? The two barely knew each other. In fact, if Bill hadn’t taken a liking to her, or if Stan weren’t friends with Bill, he doubted he’d even know of her existence.

“Hi…” Stan looked skeptically at the girl who was practically throwing herself at him. “Do you need something?”

y/n only hummed in response. She was swaying to the song playing in the background, but her movements didn’t match the beat at all, and she looked just as wasted as the rest of the room.

“Do you speak English?” Stan’s eyebrows furrowed. He leaned down to meet her height. His eyes widened with surprise when she, once again didn’t reply, but wrapped her arm around his neck. Her touch was velvet and she smelled like roses.

Until she opened her mouth.

The potent stench of that cheap alcohol potion, Stan had briefly been intrigued by, hit his nose. He wanted so desperately to get away from her—pass her on to Bill, or something. But she placed a sloppy kiss on his lips just in time.

He’d been embarrassed to admit that was his first kiss.

You were supposed to have your first kiss with your girlfriend, or the girl next door, or best friend. Not with a stranger at some raunchy house party you were dragged to by your idiot friends. And certainly not with the girl your friend liked. But here Stan was, breaking all the rules.

There was something encapsulating about her cherry lip gloss which was smeared from when she kissed him and the way she stumbled terribly because of her inebriated state. Maybe Stan did understand.

y/n’s arm was still wrapped around his neck and her lips were dangerously close to his. He thought she was about to go in for another kiss until words made their way from her lips.

“Take me home?” Stan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This girl who he’d never met before was taking a chance on a total stranger to take her home, trusting that he wouldn’t kidnap or murder her.

“I don’t even know you.” Stan tried his best to look bored when, in reality, this offer was tempting.

“Pleaseeee.” She was now clinging to him for dear life. “I think all my friends left me.” Her pouty expression was the final catalyst to Stan’s reaction.

“In that case… How could I say no?” It was as if his whole personality flipped a switch. His once stone cold and albeit, annoyed, features washed away, revealing a kindhearted guy only the Losers really got a chance to see.

A drunken giggle left her lips and y/n’s arm removed itself from Stan’s neck only to find itself tightly coiled around his arm. This was y/n’s signal for Stan to start making his way through the crowd in order to search for the front door. A task the boy already knew would be horrible.

He started awkwardly shifting and contorting himself just so he wouldn’t have to feel the sweaty bodies surrounding him. He also made sure not to lose y/n, but that task served pretty much impossible due to how fixed her grasp on his arm was.

It didn’t take long for Stan to finally reach the front door (which was somehow trashed). Thank god his shoes, and none of the other items on his being, for that matter, had come into contact with sticky liquid or bodily fluids. But the doorknob was covered in a substance that made Stan visibly cringe when he touched it.

“God, what do people do here.” y/n, still lazily hanging on was about to open her mouth. “I don’t want to know,” Stan said, quickly, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

A laugh so pleasant it made puppies look like beasts fell from y/n’s perfect lips. The longer Stan spent with this girl, the more he found to like about her.

A crisp breeze blew its way to the two of them and Stan wondered how it was this cold already when just last week it reached the seventies. The transition from summer to fall always bewildered him, no matter how many times he’d experience it.

“How far did you park?” She grew impatient and Stan couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t even want to stand. Fortunately, he could see the hood of his car peeking out from behind a someone’s Ford.

“Only a few more steps.” Stan reassured. His pace picked up and before another complaint could slip out of y/n’s mouth. “Oh, look at that, we’re already here.” He opened the door for her, but she didn’t budge. “Are you… gonna get in?” Stan waited rather impatiently for the girl who was lollygagging in front of the open door.

Wordlessly, she turned to face him and held her arms open and Stan understood.

Even though he sighed, Stan still picked her up and placed her gently in the passenger seat of his car.

“Such a gentleman,” she mumbled into his neck before he parted from her. Stan couldn’t help but smile at the remark.

It took awhile for him to find her address. y/n was too out of it to form any coherent sentence besides “you must be the coolest guy ev-ur” and what happened to be the lyrics to Highway to Hell. But after (uncomfortably and frantically) rifling through her purse, after asking where her house was and y/n only pointing to inside her bag, Stan had found the tag of the purse marked with her address in pink sharpie also signed with a heart. 

Neither said much on the drive there. Stan was inexperienced with talking to drunk girls, besides Bev, and y/n looked like she was inexperienced with talking. Nonetheless, he tried to make the best of it. He turned on the radio to his favorite station and let the songs carry him through the night.

“Thanks—thank you.” y/n said once Stan had arrived at her place. He walked her up to the porch; her figure stabilized by his arms. Her eyes burned holes through his under the moonlight and Stan was rendered speechless. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She started to sway again like she did at the party, but there was no music to dance to.

“You’re welcome.” Stan had finally mustered the courage to say, but he scolded himself internally for how lame he probably sounded.

“Well… goodnight.” y/n giggled drunkenly before her lips grazed his left cheek softly. It blossomed pink once she touched him. Could it even be considered a touch? It was so light, almost feather-like, and if Stan weren’t watching her like a hawk, he would have missed it.

The door shut with a slam and he cursed in his head for doing this to Bill and he cursed in his head the next day when his mind drew a blank on his functions test.

This was just great.

He scratched his head, as if that would somehow release the numerical knowledge he needed in order to at least get a sixty percent. Alas, it did nothing but relieve the itching on his dry scalp.

He silently racked his brain, yet nothing came. The only thing that came to mind were the events of last night. Are you kidding?

The bell rung.

Stan looked down at his paper only to find his name written neatly and compactly on the line reserved for it in dark lead and a measly ten questions out of the twenty answered. He pressed his lips together so hard, he thought they may bruise. Everyone else was already out the door, except for the slower kids in the back who took their sweet time.

“Uris.” The hairs on Stan’s arm stood to attention when he heard his name being called. He looked around to find the classroom was empty except for him and Mr. Burgess.

“Yes?” Stan looked up to the authority figure and he was wondering if he should pathetically ask for extra time on his test during another period or if he should turn it in as is.

“Don’t you have another class to get to?” Mr. Burgess was patient, but there would be another round of students filing in any minute now.

“Yeah.” Stan stood up and gathered his things. He was hasty but took enough time to put each item in their designated place. “I didn’t get a chance to finish.” Stan was aware third period was now replacing the empty seats and he lowered his voice.

“I see…” Mr. Burgess eyed the paper, both front and back, and then set it on a stack of papers from Stan’s class. “You can finish tomorrow. Either come in early or stay late.”

And at that, Stan was on his merry way to Mrs. Baker’s World Civilization class- or would be.  He stopped dead in his tracks when his path crossed y/n’s, a detail he never noticed. Her hands were covering her face to hide the blush that quickly raced to the apples of her cheeks. She was admiring something in her locker, but he couldn’t tell what. One of her girlfriends was standing with her, sharing the same giggles and same look of awe in her eyes.

Stan soon found out her blush was the work of Bill Denbrough’s when the Losers met up at lunch. They were sitting together like they always did, too engrossed in conversation to worry about what the lunch ladies’ specialty was today.

“I h-h-hope y/n luh-likes wh-what I g-guh-gave her,” Bill said all too suddenly.

“I’m sure she will,” Beverly reassured.

“What’d you get her.” It was hard for Stan to contain the jealousy that leaked from his words and instead of a question it sounded more like a demand.

“W-wuh-well usually I ju-just stick a skuh-skuh-sk-hetch in there or-or flow-flowers or something st-stupid an-and sm-small.” Bill cleared his throat as if that would rid him of his speech impediment. “Bu-but thi-this t-t-time I told her-”

“Did’ya sign your name?” Richie inquired. Usually he wouldn’t be interested in this sort of sappy stuff, but he was eager to see the development between Bill and his crush—rather, if Bill would ever grow the balls to reveal himself as y/n’s admirer.

Bill swallowed and kept silent.

“So, no.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

Bill gave his friend a skeptical look. He was confused. While Stan was usually the most passive aggressive of the group, he was never this… insolent. But he shrugged off the countless possibilities for why Stan was acting this way.

“Are you ever gonna tell her?” Richie seemed about just as annoyed as Stan was.

“Wh-when the t-t-time’s ruh-ruh-right.” Bill looked to both Stan and Richie sternly, but the two knew better than that. When the time’s right.  

Yeah right.

Stan thought back to the scene at y/n’s locker from earlier. The morally sound thing to do would be to tell Bill. Tell Bill how y/n and her friend gushed at the sight of what was inside of her locker. Tell him how y/n’s knees were practically weak while she hid her face furiously with the sleeve of her shirt.

But nothing came out of his mouth. In fact, his mouth never opened. Stan stayed quiet for the last fifteen minutes that the Losers all had together. He stayed quiet as he stared at his salad and thought of y/n.

The y/n who was in an inappropriate state when he took her home. The y/n who was his first kiss. The y/n who was Bill’s crush.

Stan sat on this fact for a while.

He was at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched, while thinking this ridiculous inner conflict over. Something in his gut told Stan that Bill was never going to tell y/n how he felt. Bill Denbrough was not someone you’d label a coward, but god, when it came to girls, he was a pussy. On the other hand, there was something else that twisted his insides in another manner, telling Stan even if Bill never told y/n how he felt, that doesn’t mean he should swoop in either.

Stanley Uris was in a pickle.

His lips, once again, pressed against each other tightly, so tight he could feel bone. The mental wheels in his mind were turning, but no matter how far they spun, he still reached no conclusion.

An hour had passed when Stan finally looked at the analog clock that stood on the edge of his desk.

“If I tied a noose around my neck, I bet I’d come to a better conclusion,” Stan said darkly under his breath. He was still staring at the clock. It was getting late, but Richie Tozier would say that’s just when the fun’s starting.

Personally, Stan liked getting a head start on his bedtime routine. The other Losers made fun of him for it, but it kept him sane. He stretched, still sitting down and a yawn left his mouth. He padded his way to the bathroom just across the hall so he could brush his teeth and then change.

When his head full of curls hit his wrinkle free pillowcase and his arms pulled over his comforter to his chest, he assumed all thoughts of y/n would be gone. He would go to sleep, leaving the unconscious to take over his mind and body and he would forget.

He would forget the flowery scent that lingered on his shirt that night because she pressed herself so close to him. He would forget the feeling of her fingers that swept against him in the gentlest way and he would forget how he ever longed to feel them against the rest of him. He would forget that she kissed him—twice. When he would wake, he would have no recollection of that night and for all he knew, he’d never been kissed.

But Stan woke up to the burning want—no. The burning need to tell y/n how he felt. He knew he’d only known her for a fleeting moment, and it was absurd to catch feelings for someone you barely knew. But telling her would be the only way to ease the funny feeling in Stan’s stomach which seemed to be in knots lately.

At least that’s what Stan told himself as he walked up to y/n’s locker during the five-minute passing period they had between second and third period.

Luckily, y/n was there, and he wasn’t just about to confess to a slab of metal. She was chatting up the same friend from yesterday and the same glow lit up her eyes as she was explaining something to her.

“Isn’t it so thoughtful?” Stars replaced her pupils and she ran her fingers over the inked piece of parchment that was slipped into her locker from today.

“There’s no name,” her friend deadpanned. She, too, was looking at the note with y/n. But instead of fawning over the piece of work, she stared unimpressed—bored, almost.

“So?” y/n huffed. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I think it would count more if you knew who it was from.” Stan wanted to smirk and tell Bill I told you so as he overheard their conversation.

“Yeah but—” y/n’s friend was waiting for her to finish but she stopped once she recognized the boy in front of them. “Hi!” She smiled at Stan and it was now his turn to say something.

“Hello.” He looked between y/n and her friend to which her friend then spoke up.

“I guess I’ll be going now.” And then three became two.

“What’s up?” y/n was oddly cheery considering it was eleven a.m. on a school day.

Where should I start?

Stan looked to her awkwardly and scratched his shoulder. He then noticed the piece of paper that most likely Bill had slipped in her locker that morning. It was a landscape drawing of Main Street, but there was a hidden message written within the building signs. Stan couldn’t quite make out what the message said, but he was sure it said something along the lines of: my heart beats for yours. Something Stan would never understand.

“Can you make this quick? Or maybe you can tell me at lunch?” y/n offered. The drawing was now out of sight—either back in her locker or tucked away in her backpack which was slung over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you at lunch.” Stan felt his toes curl in his shoes and his heartbeat quicken under his skin.

y/n nodded and walked off. They didn’t need to say goodbye to each other because they’d be meeting each other in an hour, give or take.

y/n would be sitting by herself at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Stan spotted her easily because ever since that night it was as if the image of her was ingrained in his brain.

“I’ve been on the edge of my seat ever since you came up to me at my locker,” y/n admitted. There was sort of a shyness that carried itself through her voice that Stan didn’t recognize. She was different under the influence. Confident. Bold. Affectionate. Different. But here she was, in front of him; hunched over, exposing her insecurity of the situation. The fact that she had told him she was anxious for this moment was big for her.  

“Really?” Disbelief marked Stan’s face. Girls didn’t usually jump at a chance at Stan and Stan didn’t usually jump at the chance at girls. His studies took too much time away from his social life and the Losers proved to be enough social interaction for him, no matter how many times they’d encouraged him to get out there.

Bill, Stan, Eddie, and Richie were all hanging out in Bill’s room. Richie leaned against the cracked window while he smoked and Eddie sat next to him, taking puffs from his inhaler similarly to how Richie took breaths of the cigarette. He was cautious of the secondhand smoke he feared would enter his lungs. Bill was busy messing with his new record player.

“Record players are so old.” Eddie’s nose scrunched when The Cure started playing but no sign of malice could be detected from his voice.

“Sh-sh-shut up.” Bill laughed and joined the other three, crossing his legs as he sat.

Stan faintly recalled him then going on about y/n and he could sense the others internally groaning with him.

“T-today, her h-h-hand brushed uh-against mine when we were g-getting beakers… ff-for our lab.” His lips curled into an even bigger smile just thinking about it. But he was always smiling at the thought of her. He was now laying on the hardwood floor. His fingers were laced together and stretched behind his head.

It was just a simple interaction, but Bill remembered every detail. He felt his body transport itself to dream world.

Bill was sitting at the lab table with his two other partners—a football player named Jack and a blonde girl named Stacy. He knew as much about them as they knew about him and it wasn’t in his plans to make buddy-buddy with the two. He took the cue to leap from his stool when their teacher announced that one person from each group gets supplies and y/n y/l/n was the designated supplies-getter.

Hastily, he walked over to the cabinet where the beakers were stored. There was already a crowd of unenthusiastic students lined up to get their share and luckily, they cleared the air soon enough. It proved no difficulty for Bill to reach the top shelf, as he had done many times before, but he found it hard to breathe once another, smaller, hand came into contact with his own. Her nails were filed perfectly and painted a deep shade of blue that were chipped to infinity, reminding him of Richie. A silver band hugged her ring finger that felt cold compared to the rest of her hand that pressed against his.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, and Bill gladly stepped aside.

“You can be a sap sometimes, Big Bill,” Richie said, shaking Bill from his daydream.

Bill rolled his eyes and sat up. He wasn’t in the mood to make a jab at Richie, but it would’ve done him good. “I-ih-t’s called having a h-h-heart. You sh-should t-t-t-try it sometime.”

“Oh, it hurts me that you think I’m heartless.” Richie sighed and leaned a little too close for Eddie’s liking. “You don’t think I’m heartless, do ya, Eds?” He started making kissy faces before he doubled over into his lap.

“Shove off.” Eddie pushed him so his side was pressed into the floorboard as he continued to laugh.

“Wuh-wuh-what ab-out you Stan?” Bill turned his attention towards Stan who was listening quietly. His back stood straight, and he hadn’t changed his position since he sat down.

“What about me?” Stan wondered. He was sure this conversation was going to lead into some sort of back and forth girl talk that he had no business being apart of. It wasn’t like Stan wasn’t attracted to girls. He just hadn’t found the right one yet.

That was, until now.

The sound of her backpack unzipping made his ears perk. She was digging for something Stan couldn’t see. Maybe if he was at a different angle…

“You did this, right?” She shoved the neatly folded drawing from earlier in front of his face.

“Wait, what?” Stan looked at her incredulously and took the paper in his hands. Carefully, he unfolded it and smoothed the wrinkles out—not like there were many. He studied his friend’s work. It was obvious Bill had put great effort into it; into liking y/n. To take his credit would be a new low, even for him.

“You’re the one who’s been putting stuff in my locker!” y/n insisted. “I wasn’t really sure until a few nights ago…” Her eyes broke contact from him, all the sudden becoming nervous. “You know… When you took me home?” She faced Stan again and this time Stan was too nervous to look at her.

“No,” He finally said. He wasn’t looking at her so he couldn’t see her confused expression. Stan passed the paper back to her.

“No?”

“I mean…” Stan was wondering how to word this. He didn’t have all day, but he also didn’t know how to get himself out of this dilemma.

How do you tell someone you like them, but you’re not their secret admirer—your friend is?

“I’m not the one who’s been sending you stuff,” Stan said smoothly. Like that.

“You… aren’t?” y/n’s voice started to falter but was soon swallowed by a chuckle. “Well, this is embarrassing.” She haphazardly shoved the parchment into her bag only for her to smooth it out later in the day when she got home.

“No, it’s not.” Stan’s monotone voice served no reassurance for y/n, no matter how much she wanted to hear those words. But she didn’t say anything, only cocked her head, prompting for him to continue. “I’m not the one who’s been putting stuff in your lockers but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

y/n’s already tense muscles relaxed at this, but she was still left with a problem.

“I was so sure of it,” she said in a mumble so low Stan almost didn’t catch.

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked. “I like you. Don’t…” Embarrassment crept up the back of his throat as the next sentence spilled out. “Don’t you like me?”

y/n nodded but didn’t say anything. She readjusted herself on her seat, robbing him of an answer.

“Do you remember what happened that night?” Nothing bad happened. Nothing even remotely, as Richie would put it, hot, happened. But it was the night that changed everything.

“Yeah.” y/n sucked in a deep breath as she remembered.

y/n hadn’t planned to get so drunk off her ass that she couldn’t walk. In fact, y/n hadn’t even planned to go out. But there she was, on a Tuesday night. Her friends had left her to suck the skin off each other’s faces and y/n had become a little too good at beer pong.

Whoever was in charge of the alcohol had no taste buds, but she needed all the liquid courage she could get, because tonight was the night. Tonight, was the night y/n y/l/n was going to face Stanley Uris.

Of course, she had known of the boy. She’d gone to the same school as him ever since she could remember. It wasn’t until this year when she was aware of his existence.

He usually stayed behind the scenes; his nose burrowed in a textbook whenever she saw him alone and when she didn’t, he was usually hanging out with the same group of friends from middle school.

Lately, however, something about him just seemed to make sense. The idea of her and him together made sense. Coincidentally, her infatuation with the boy had picked up around the same time anonymous drawings and knick-knacks had found their way in her locker.

Was it so wrong to believe that it was destiny working its magic?

Or maybe the belief of Stan being anonymous was just the workings of her silly little school crush.

Either way, she took the chance; finding the perfect time to fall into his arms. If she had confessed to him any earlier, she would’ve gotten an unwanted response.

“Can I ask?” y/n started, but Stan knew she was going to ask the question afterwards anyway. “Do you know? Do you know who’s been sending me the stuff?”

Stan swallowed. He swallowed so hard his throat burned. He didn’t want what they had to end like this.

What they had. They didn’t have anything.

“Bill Denbrough.” He looked down even though he had nothing to be ashamed of. “Do you like me or do you like the person who’s been sending you the stuff?” Stan asked. It was a fair question. An easy question. But y/n, for some reason, couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

It was clear as day that Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris were two different people. y/n just couldn’t fathom Stan not being her secret admirer—as cocky as it sounds. For two months, she’s imagined him as the one sending her landscape sketches and confessing his love for her. Her heart couldn’t help but fall into an endless pit, also known as the void.

“I guess I just thought of you as the person sending me the stuff,” y/n answered honestly, and an odd sort of sadness washed over Stan when she said that. They were truly stuck in a catch twenty-two and he still failed to understand how he got there. “Do you like me?” The question was ridiculous, but it was reasonable for her to ask.

“Yes,” Stan said, but he was hesitant. His mind couldn’t help but track back to Bill and the countless times he had swooned over y/n. Stan may be the one telling her how he felt but he wasn’t the one who never failed to stutter her name in conversations and make googly eyes at her from across the room.

What Stan had felt these past few days was what Bill felt these past years.  

If y/n were stupid she would have accepted Stan’s answer. She would have given him his third kiss right then and there and proclaimed they were dating as they left the lunchroom. But she wasn’t stupid. She was anything but.

“I really like you.” Stan swore this was something she’d said before, but it wasn’t. It was new. It seemed as if everything was new. “Or… liked you,” y/n spoke again, and maybe the rose-colored glasses she was wearing were coming off.

Stan nodded. He knew what this meant and stood up from his seat. There were only five minutes of lunch left when he looked at the clock that hung from the brick wall and he was going to make perfect use of it.

“Good news.” Stan walked up from behind Bill who was sitting with the rest of the Losers. He ignored Beverly’s where were you’s and took a seat facing his friend. “y/n likes you back.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

@rebelwrites ✨

When I opened this blog, I would never thought I could find someone like you. You're the most kind, lovely, funny and badass person ever. We started talking because of our language problems, sharing spanish-english translations, and you have become an important person to me. We're talking the whole damn day, about writings, about Mayans, about SOA, making jokes and having fun. You have helped me whenever I had a mental breakdown, giving me all the support on the world, and I couldn't be more proud of calling you my friend. Sending you a big hug with a lot of love from Spain, I will let you read why I wrote for you. And I just hope you have the best birthday ever surrounded by your friends, family and Kiwi. I love you, my lil slut ❤✨

When Heather wakes up lonely on her birthday morning, she's confused. And a little bit pissed, waiting to do it surrounded by Jax arms. She palms his side of the mattress to check that it's cold, so he probably had to leave the house for some club shit. Putting on her glasses and stepping out from the bed, she walks out of their shared room wearing nothing but one of his large black shirts. Grabbing the fabric in a fist, she takes a deep breath feeling less lonely as Jax's scent fills up his lungs. But some strange noises inside the kitchen push her out of his bubble.

Arching a brown eyebrow over the glasses, pulling the blonde locks of hair to a side, she sticks out her head off the frame to find Happy fighting with the coffeemaker.

“Son of a bitch… I'm going to fucking ki���”.

“Open the lash on the top and put the capsule inside”.

The man stares at her in silence, as if she talked to him in another language. Rolling her eyes, Heather takes some steps closer to follow the same instructions she had given him literally two seconds ago. He is fascinated.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Birthday”. He replies, as he points himself.

Squinting until she gets the joke, she can't help but break into loud laughs, scaring Happy for a moment because he wasn't expecting. Scaring. Happy.

“Jax asked me to pick you up”.

“No, thanks. I don't wanna die”.

“But you have to come with me”.

“For what?”

Nothing. Not a single word. He has already met his quota of conversation for the rest of the day. When the coffee is ready and the man is going to take the mug, Heather is fast clicking her tongue repeatedly.

“Make yours, grown man”.

A growl escapes from his mouth, watching him close his hands in two fists.

After a warm shower fantasizing about what her husband has prepared for today, she is ready to wear some clothes before leaving. Excited and with a bunch of ideas running through his head, she puts on a pair of ripped jeans with a comfy white shirt under a black squared franel shirt and her favorite jacket leather. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she finishes the outfit with her favorite pair of camel Timberland boots. Jax has tried a thousand times to convince her of changing them for a new pair, but she refuses, keeping that pair because it was the first gift that he made her.

Getting out from her room, tying up her hair on a messy bun and grabbing her bag, she follows Happy to the outside. Putting on the helmet, knowing that she will have to re-make her hairstyle, Heather sits behind the man not sure if it's a good idea; questioning herself why she can't simply drive her red Ford Fiesta to wherever they're going.

And she is starting to understand it after reaching the racing circuit in the surroundings of Charming. Jackson is already there, resting his body against a long car covered by a black sleeve. The smile on his face grows a little more when the president can make eye-contact with her. Jumping out from Happy's bike and giving him back the helmet, they meet halfway. Jax doesn't doubt, welcoming her between his arms and filling up her face with a bunch of tender kisses.

“Happy birthday, wifey”. His tone of voice is full of happiness and love, placing an arm over Heather's shoulders. “Ready to open your present?”

“Isn't this place too public to take off your jeans?”

The loud laughter that Jax utters makes her giggle. It's not like she can avoid these kinds of comments with someone like her husband.

“C'mon, lil slut”. He hums leading her to the car.

With nervous fingers, she pulls the cover out to the floor. Her heart races too fast, alternating her attention between the present and the man proudly smiling by her side. An immaculate red Mustang Shelby GT500 of '65, with two white strips crossing the whole body. Freshly restored just for her. Her dream car. Heather has talked about it like a hundred times with Jax, but she would never have thought that his husband could find one and all the pieces and original spare parts to tune it up.

She wants to say something, but her vocal cords look like they are freezed right now. Turning at the blonde man, starting to worry just in case she doesn't like the present, she practically jumps onto him. He can't help but cry. Since the first moment they two meet, the only thing that Jax has wanted is to make her happy. To make her laugh. To make her feel loved. To make her feel the most important person in his life. She is. For him, there's no one else but his amazing wife.

“Do you wanna ride it?” He murmurs into her ear, holding her tightly against his body. She nods in silence, she can't talk yet.

When the grip loosens, she takes off her glasses to clean the tears in her eyes, using the fist of the sleeve as her steps continue to her new stunning car. The smell of gingerbread fills her lungs, as soon as she opens the driver door, focusing her eyes on the air-freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. Jax can't help but break into loud laughter, as he sees her face looking at the item with a picture of him. Shirtless. The kinds of ideas that only he could have, obviously.

And it's like a damn fantasy. Not seeing her husband terrified on the copilot seat, but how fast her Mustang rides. Taking the curves like in a damn Daqar, almost putting it onto two wheels and speeding up on the long straight. The engine roars like a furious lion, vibrating the road under it. She loves the velocity. It makes her feel like the freedom after a lockdown. Heather has no words to explain it. But the happiness that runs her body is like touching the sky, with Eminem playing through the speakers just like in a dream.

And even if she thinks that the day wouldn't be better, her mind changes as soon as she reaches the yard of the clubhouse, driving her Mustang with Jax riding his bike by her side. A big birthday's banner welcomes her at Teller-Morrow. There are white balloons all around, the crew cheering her up with claps and whistles, before starting to sing to her.

Jax has been preparing it since a month ago, wanting it to be the perfect day just for his wifey. He would give her the moon, if she asks for it. Layla is the first one on hugging her, tightly and transmitting her all the love in the world; before being interrupted by the high-pitched barks of Kiwi. Of course, she should have been there too. Taking her best friend into her arms, receiving a bunch of dearly licks all around, Heather goes straight to Chibs and Opie to melt themselves into a big warm hug.

“Happe' berday', lass”.

“Hope you like what we did. We put on it our best”. Opie says about crying, seeing her so happy, aware that she deserves only good things in life.

“Yeah, but where's the pizza?” She asks with some chuckles, making them laugh.

“Next to the coffee, darling”.

Jackson takes her wife into his arms, leaving the poor Kiwi between their bodies not knowing who she has to lick now.

“Thank you for that, husby”. Heather pouts at him, looking at his god-damn-hot man through her eyelashes.

“You don't have to, my love. You know I would give my life for you, for seeing you smile. That's the only thing I want”. He replies, showing her that charming grin that makes her shake. “I love you more than anything, Heather. I can't imagine a day without making you happy. I can't imagine a fucking day without you”.

[jam-heathen]

ok uhhh Ford. Tell me about ford.

Yessss okay time to solidify my thoughts into something more concrete than “Perfect, love her, 10/10″

How I feel about this character: 

I love Ford so much? She’s an absolute powerhouse and cute as a button. Her vibes? Amazing. Her outfits? Top tier. Managing a hockey team? Could not be me, I am full of fear. Continuing the tradition of SMH being kept in line by a lovely artsy manager and friend.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

I’ve seen everything from Tango to Shruti to relatives of the SMH cast and honestly I just want good things for Ford. Depends on the day and the story but she’s vibin no matter who it is.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: (This…. Listen… I’m about to talk about Ford friendships for a LONG time and you get 3 because I say so but know I have thoughts about so many Ford Friendships)

Whiskey. I mentioned this in my post about him but Whiskey and Ford are a dynamic duo. Banned from being on the same team for board game night (and yall thought the sheep empire was cruel). Ford has a scarily accurate read on Whiskey’s music taste and will send song recs before Whiskey knows he wants them. He’s stopped questioning why these texts show up when they do and has accepted they’re needed. Whiskey will not admit to it but he has a calendar with big deadlines marked on it for Ford and will bring her lunch. She can take care of herself, but she’s more apt to take a break and burn out less if she has less to worry about so lunch deliveries happen.

Tangoooo! Have you ever seen two people simultaneously realize something everyone’s been taking for granted makes NO fucking sense and immediately decide to do an investigatory deep dive? That’s these two, and they’re scary good at it. It’s the weirdest combination between having an immense amount of fun and actually doing wildly effective research. have this vague idea that they do a combined senior project that wins like national awards.

I’ll go with my most unexpected vote here and say Holster. Sure, mutual appreciation for musical theatre and SMH was the start, but it’s actually when Ford asks him a really complex econ question for the intro level class she’s taking that starts off their friendship. Turns out there’s a dude who’s been rude as hell all semester in that class and Ford enlists Holster’s help in strategically dismantling every dumb thing he’s ever said in her final presentation. From there it’s just pure chaos, high key energy, and over the top costume design for Halloween and it is GLORIOUS. (I have… a wip about this… someday).

Honorable mention to Chowder Lardo and Bitty, but I’ll leave it at that.

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

Tying into the above: she’s super competitive. Only about certain things and always with grace and poise, and normally she just likes to chill, but honestly? Truly? Once she has decided she will be doing the most and win.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Besides just wanting to see more of the WTF trio generally and learning the ~lore~? We should’ve let Ford direct a small SMH play. Maybe for charity or maybe for a seminar she’s taking but I want it. This may be something just for me but like… also what if we just let it happen?

my OTP:

Ya know, I don’t actually know I have a top pick? I just want good things for Ford.

my cross over ship:

I really do not think about crossovers lmao.

a headcanon fact:

Ford’s also fairly mechanically inclined! Not build-a-house-in-the-Haus inclined, but she can definitely fix a thing or two and had done some work for different shows.

[allaboutthebooz]

Grow As We Go

Summary: The Reader makes a choice about her future, but will she regret it?

Warnings: Small amount of angst.

A/N: I know right?! Where the hell have I been?! Don’t worry. I’m back. I don’t know for how long. It’s up to the baby. I’m feeling much better these days, but I never know how I’m going to feel when I wake up in the mornings. Anyway, this part is short, but it’s the start of something new and wonderful, I hope. Enjoy.

She scrambled to get her bags packed as fast as she could. The guys would be back any minute and she hoped to be gone before then. Shoving her last few things into her duffle, she grabs her shoes and quickly puts them on her feet, tying one at a time. Tying the knot on the last boot, she hears them arguing outside of the door. Cursing she stands from the bed, reaching for her jacket as the door opens. Y/N tries to ignore them as she pulls it on.

“Hey. We’ve got bupkis. What about you?” Dean asks.

“Uh, just matched the symbols and stuff that we found to some form of fertility or breeding ritual.” She says, pulling her hair from the collar.

“Breeding? That’s just-“ Dean stops, realizing her outfit and packed bags. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve gotta go. Bobby called me. He needs help with a group of jinn. They’re more trouble than he thought.” Y/N says, lying easily.

“Why didn’t he call someone else?” Sam asks, watching Y/N move around to gather her bags.

“I don’t know. It’s Bobby. I’ve learned not to ask too many questions.”

“Okay. We’ll go with you.” Dean offer, not wanting to be separated from her.

“No.” She says quickly. “You’re needed here. People are still dropping like flies and these things need to be found.” She faces them with her things in her hands. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

All the Winchesters can do is nod, knowing they can’t argue with her. “Call me when you get there.” Dean says.

“I will. Don’t worry. It’ll only be a few days.” She smiles, lying as her heart constricted. Kissing each of them on the cheek. She steps out the open door that Sam opened for her.

Opening the door to her Ford Bronco, she tosses the bags in the seat next to her. She climbs in and brings the beast to life. Giving the brothers one last wave as she pulls away. Waiting until they are no longer in the rearview, before allowing the tears to fall.

She didn’t want to leave them, but she knew that she didn’t have a choice as soon as those two pink lines appeared almost instantly. She knew Dean would be a great dad, but she also knew he would never give up hunting. He had tried that before with Lisa and Ben and they were both almost killed. Hunting meant too much to Dean. He would try his best to stay out of it, but he wouldn’t be able to help it. Especially, if Sam stayed in it.

She was doing what is best. At least, she hopes.

Wiping her tears away, she pulls herself together enough to head to Bobby’s. The plan was to dump her car and get his help. To drop off the grid for as long as possible.

She hopes to anyways.

--

Y/N pulls her truck onto Bobby’s dirt driveway and finds him waiting on his porch for her. She climbs out, meeting him halfway for a quick hug. “Thanks for me drop by so last minute.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, kid.” The old man tells her.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I had to get out of there.”

“What’s going on?” Bobby asks, knowing it must be important for her to tear herself away from the boys. Her quivering chin, making his concern grow.

“Bobby, I’m pregnant.” She cries.

“Oh, shit.”

Forevers:

@jamielea81 @gh0stgurl @pretty-fortune @psychoredpanda @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @tmiships4life @babypink224221 @20gayneen @simonsbluee @flamencodiva @superrnatural300 @captaindorit0 @nickgv @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @glennacocoa​ @aomi-nabi​ @invisibledevour @wayward-river @housav @crystallstaircase @jessieray98​ @logical-princey​ @cookiechipdough @81mysteriouslyme @deans-baby-momma @lilliannaansalla​ @nea90sweetie @geeksareunique​

Supernatural: (this list may need to be cleaned up, if you’re tagged and would like to stay that way, please let me know.)

I guess everyone on my Supernatural List, was apart of my Forevers.

If you would like to be tagged, please send me an ask! I’m able to keep up with them that way. If you ask to be tagged in the comments, it may go unseen. 

[penniesforthestorm]

“Release the hounds”: Thoughts On Justified, Season One, Episode Thirteen

As promised, this installment will follow a more familiar ‘review’ style-- if I were doing this for money, I’d write an article for each episode, but I am trying to keep this fun for myself (plus, there’s way more of a chance I’ll actually follow through). I may adjust the format somewhat for the next season. My thoughts on the pilot, episodes 2-5, episodes 6-9, and episodes 10-12 are linked-- drop me a line if you’ve been reading and/or watching along!

The first season of Justified presents two fairly different paths the show could have taken: The first, which might be called The Adventures of Raylan Givens and Friends*, is a classic procedural along the lines of Law & Order, NYPD Blue, or CSI, with serialized elements taking a back burner-- episodes like “Fixer” or “Long in the Tooth” function more or less as standalone entries, and with their witty dialogue and colorful characters, they have a light touch (nefarious drug cartels notwithstanding). The second option is a far more novelistic approach, with the episodes coalescing around the story of Raylan Givens And His Nemesis Boyd Crowder**. It’s a natural expansion of the arc of “Fire in the Hole”, and it’s not hard to see why the show takes that direction, reaching its initial peak in the season finale, “Bulletville”.

Several times in the episode, the phrase “you know me” passes between a set of characters. This theme has popped up throughout the preceding episodes, perhaps most sharply in the case of Raylan’s ex-wife, Winona Hawkins (Natalie Zea). Winona and Raylan (Timothy Olyphant) were married for six years, and it’s telling that, after Raylan shoots his former friend Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins) in the pilot, she’s the person he runs to see. Winona and Raylan met as adults-- of course, she would know some things about his past, but one gets the sense that, for Raylan, Winona represented the future. Her comment about her current husband Gary representing ‘hope’ is especially cutting, because we’ve come to understand that Raylan hoped (and possibly still hopes) to be the kind of man Winona could respect. For her part, Winona moved on from Raylan because she saw how much of a captive to his past he still was.

As to the past, consider the case of Raylan’s father, Arlo Givens (Raymond J. Barry). In “Bulletville”, Arlo sits down with crime patriarch Bo Crowder (M.C. Gainey), to try and settle the bad blood between them. He offers to play double agent, tying up the various federal agencies pursuing Bo with useless information, while enabling Bo to stay ahead of their inquiries. “You’ve known me for fifty years,” Arlo wheedles. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me trust you more, or less,” Bo retorts. Nevertheless, there is common ground between them: both of them are old men with sons who have failed them, deliberately or otherwise. (The fact that Bo transferred the majority of responsibility for his enterprise to Arlo and not his son Bowman is an interesting detail-- Bowman may not have outright defied his father the way his brother Boyd did, but I can’t help thinking of the similarly hotheaded Sonny Corleone.) Later, when Arlo attempts to set Raylan up, as Bo’s peace offering to the Miami cartel, he starts gently reminiscing about Raylan’s mother, and about his own shortcomings as a parent, which instantly ignites Raylan’s suspicions. Raylan, after all, spent the first twenty years of his life attuning himself to Arlo’s moods. Once Arlo is subdued, however, Raylan still tends to his wounds.

Contrast that with the earlier confrontation between Papa Bo and Boyd, at Boyd’s “church” in the woods. Bo, furious that Boyd has blown up the shipment of ephedrine from Miami, has shown up with an armed posse, including Boyd’s Cousin Johnny (David Meunier). “I can’t hurt my own son,” Bo says, smiling. “Johnny, hurt my son.” Johnny is pissed at Boyd for a different reason-- he tipped Boyd off about the truck’s arrival, hoping that Boyd would kill the drivers, and the two of them would convince Miami that Bo was responsible for the sabotage. Still, after the first few punches, Johnny’s reluctance grows, and when he asks Bo, “You want me to kill him?”, there’s a genuine note of fear in his voice. (I’ll have more to say about Meunier’s performance in future installments-- over the next few seasons, he quietly creates one of the show’s most fascinating characters.) Bo does something much, much worse-- he lets Boyd walk away, and then he and his posse slaughter Boyd’s “flock”.

This act of unfiltered evil sends Boyd into crisis-- upon seeing the corpses of his followers dangling in the trees, Goggins falls to the ground and lets out an anguished roar. That night, after burying the men, he prays in desperation, asking for a sign. As the silence of the dark trees presses on him, he murmurs, “Maybe I’ve just been talking to myself the whole time.” It’s a fine irony that this is the first time we truly understand the depth and sincerity of his former conversion. He shows up at Raylan’s motel room, stammering, “I am lost.” Without his followers, without whatever impulse was guiding him before, Boyd is compelled to find someone who knows him.

So he and Raylan ride off together to confront Bo, who has, in the intervening hours, kidnapped Ava and shot Johnny. They converge on Bo’s hunting cabin, where Bo hoped to draw Raylan in order to hand him off to Miami. Boyd discovers Ava, bound but unharmed, while Raylan parlays with Bo. The Miami contingent has other ideas-- a sniper takes out Bo, and Ernesto and Pilar, who drove the ephedrine truck, open fire. There’s some great banter as Raylan, Boyd, and Ava take cover in the cabin-- Raylan asks Boyd if he’s brought his rocket launcher, and Boyd ruefully responds, “I didn’t think to pack one.” Pilar calls for Raylan, and he answers, only to have Boyd shout, “No, I’m Raylan Givens!” (Raylan: “Are you trying to be funny?” Boyd: “A little.”) The standoff ends with Ava free, Ernesto dead, and Boyd in pursuit of Pilar. Boyd asks if Raylan will shoot to stop him, saying he’s pretty sure Raylan’s pistol is empty. “You gonna bet your life on that?” Raylan asks. “No, Raylan,” Boyd answers, “I’m gonna bet my life on you being the only friend I have left in this world.” They know each other, having faced death together several times and walked away alive.

* I know this is a horrendous title. I’m sorry. ** why yes, I did just re-watch The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford; why do you ask?

[always5hineee]

Before It Rings- Chapter 1: Disaster Strikes

(This story is a prequel to The Final Bell, which can be found on my page.)

The full chapter list is available under the Before It Rings tab on my page. 

Story can also be found on Wattpad and Quotev under taffysamg. 

Word Count: 1291

Chapter warnings: Mild language

-----    

"Do you know what Doyoung is making for lunch?" Taeyong asked, scrolling through articles on his laptop absentmindedly.

       "No idea." Mark responded, walking over to sit down on the couch beside him. It was another boring day, and they were going through the motions again. "Why does he always cook?"

       "Would you rather do it yourself?"

       "Good point."

       That was the last thing they remembered. They woke up in the rubble of their apartment building, eyes watering and mouths dry. It was Taeyong who saw the light of day first. He arose to the sounds of sirens all around him, disorienting him and causing him to automatically cover his ears. Over the alarm speakers, he could vaguely make out a stiff, robotic voice.

       The city has been bombed, take shelter- warning effective immediately. The city has been bombed, take shelter- warning effective immediately. The city...

       It continued to play and replay, over and over again. Bomb? He thought to himself, confused. Why had they been bombed? He wasn't particularly up-to-date on current issues. While he knew about the bioweapon threats, he didn't realize that catastrophe would ensue so soon.

       "Shit! Mark! Doyoung!" He stood up quickly, rocks and dust tumbling off his pants. They were the only two who had been in the building with him as far as he knew- where were they? Looking around, he started pulling people up out of the aftermath. Body after body, he retrieved other residents of the building. Some he recognized, others he didn't, and some... some didn't make it.

       He first came across Doyoung. The boy had his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open, but was fairly out in the open. Aside from a thick layer of dust, his body seemed untouched. Taeyong ran over and shook his shoulders, yelling at him to come to. After a few seconds, he started to cough, sitting up at an angle and trying to look around.

       "Oh, thank God." Taeyong sighed, pulling his hand away.

       "What happened?" He asked, making a disgusted face at the taste in his mouth. Taeyong just held his arms out, letting the sirens play for another moment. Doyoung's brows furrowed.

       "Huh."

       "Right?" After another bit, Taeyong mentioned, "Here, can you help me find Mark?" He nodded, shakily standing to try and orient himself, cracking his back in a stretch. Although it was less efficient, they mostly stuck together, a little freaked out by everything. There were no police anywhere around, although some people claimed to be off-duty law enforcement as they began pulling people from the ruins as well.

       It made sense that the law would be frazzled. Taeyong would be surprised if they stayed formed. They searched and searched, but only saw him as he was carried by two other men.

       "Mark!" Doyoung shouted as the first one to spot him. Running over, they realized that he was leaning on two adult men due to the angle his leg was at.

       "We found him under that support beam." Of them send, handing him off to an open-armed Doyoung. "We think his leg is broken, but other than that, he's fine."

       "Shit..." Taeyong muttered, pushing his shoulder up under the boy's. He was out cold. "We need to call Taeil, quickly." He mentioned. Doyoung nodded, pulling a phone out of his back pocket. Eyes shut, Taeyong begged for cell towers to still be working. Thankfully, they were still running on backup generators.

       "Hey, where are you?" Doyoung said into the phone. Thank goodness... "Yeah, the building collapsed, we're outside. We need to get to a hospital, if we can. Is your car alright?" Another pause. "Perfect, if you don't mind." Hanging up, he looked to Ty.

       "He'll be over in a few minutes." Taeyong breathed out in relief. Once all this was over, he really had to get a license. Thankfully, Mark was clearly breathing, but didn't awake. When he did, his leg would hurt like hell. As Taeil promised, it didn't take him much time to arrive, pulling up in his small, silver Ford. Without even stopping to ask any questions, Doyoung opened up the back door, gently laying mark down as best as he could. When he was satisfied, he slid into the back himself, lifting the sleeping boy's head up and laying it over his knees.

       Left with no other seats, Taeyong took the passenger, quickly trying to explain the situation to Taeil. The driver was focused on navigating traffic, as much of the road was obstructed by rubble, damaged and abandoned cars, and other unnerved people.

       "Just head to the nearest hospital." Taeyong finally said. "We'll try and find Yuta later."

       "I can call him too." Doyoung offered. They agreed to this as Taeil slowly made his way through the streets. Taeyong could hear the boy talking, but wasn't registering anything, head spinning with the speed at which all of this was happening. "He'll meet us at the hospital on the South side." He finally said, bringing him back to reality. "That's where we're going, right?"

       Taeil nodded, saying nothing, too busy focusing on his surroundings. Although the facility was very close to their apartment, it was taking much longer than it should have to get there. When they finally pulled up, it looked... abandoned. None of the cars in the lot were running, and they didn't see a single ambulance pass. That didn't seem normal at all, especially considering the situation. Not having time to question it, Taeil put the car in park, helping Taeyong and Doyoung to remove their friend from the vehicle.        

       Draping him over their shoulders, the rattling started to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open as he looked around, already starting to ask questions.

       "W-what's happening?" He asked in a mutter.

       "You-" Taeyong moved to tell him, but Taeil cut him off. Whispering, the boy mentioned,

       "Don't tell him. He probably isn't feeling it because of shock, but if he realizes his leg is broken, it'll start to hurt." Taeyong didn't like keeping it from him, but he also didn't want to see Mark in pain.

       "You were in the building with us when a bomb hit. We're trying to figure it out now." They started to walk towards the front doors of the hospital. They were blacked out- maybe with some sort of paint? It was more than strange, but what choice did they have? While Doyoung and Taeyong carried his sagging body, Taeil walked to open the door.

       Putting a hand on the cold bar, he pushed inward, revealing the inside of the facility to the boys. Eyes wide, he struggled to see down the dimly lit hallway. The door wasn't painted over with any sort of blackout- it was blood. The smell hit him instantly, practically inducing him to throw up. Most of the LED's in the ceiling were out, if not flickering with their last hints of life. Gurneys, robes, and medical equipment were scattered over the tiles carelessly, as if someone had rooted through the place.

       The worst part, though, were the people in the building. The rotting bodies of growling humans limped through the halls, mulling around like idle video game enemies. That is, until Taeil opened the door. Attracted by the heavy metal bang and the sudden light, every single one turned to face him. Their expressions were blank, but disgusting. There were several men and women, and he even thought he saw a child. Covering his mouth, he grabbed Taeyong's shoulder, trying to get the words out. Finally, he managed to just yell,

       "Go!" Taeyong and Doyoung were seeing the same thing. Thankfully, Mark was completely disoriented, asking questions as they pulled him back towards the car.

Go to Chapter 2

[big-idiot-wolf-boys]

Nightfall: Twilight Reimagined -2-

-1-

Still feeling very much like canon here, and very much the day to day life of Bella Swan. Check out my fancast here if you want to know what I’m imagining these characters to look like as I’m writing them!

                                                          ****

    The next day wasn’t much worse than the first, I guess that had to count for something. The second day of school is easier than the first because you know what to expect. Like Mike sitting next to me in English and then escorting me to my next class. Eric glared at Mike the whole time. Thankfully, everyone outside of the group I had somehow been adopted into seemed to have forgotten about me already.

   The rain appeared to be gone for now, but the clouds were dark and dense-- it could always decide to make a comeback.

  We had a surprise test in Trig, and I didn’t even know the formulas we were supposed to be using. I made a mental note to hide my grades from Charlie, I couldn't manage to do much more than basic algebra. In Spanish, Jessica and I were paired together to translate recipes from Spanish to English. All morning, I worried about lunch. Not where to sit or what to eat; I was worried about having to endure those strange, hateful glares from Edward Cullen. If it were anyone else, I’d just ask what his damage was. Something about the Cullens struck me as strange, though. I remembered Edward’s coal-black eyes and shuddered.

    It turned out that I had nothing to worry about. When Jessica and I entered the cafeteria, Edward was nowhere in sight. A quick scan of the room proved the rest of the Cullen siblings were sitting at their usual table, but he was not with them.

   Mike spotted us and bounded up to lead us to the table. Jessica was thrilled, and the others from yesterday quickly joined us. Today, I picked up some of the names I hadn’t yesterday. Lauren, Tyler, and Ben rounded out this loose collective of friends. Lauren had long blonde hair, pale skin, and pretty green eyes. She hadn't spoken to me much, and I tried not to take it personally. Tyler was tall and athletic-looking, with dark skin, his hair and eyes were a matching brown. Ben was the shortest of the group, he had golden-brown skin and black hair that he wore with bangs swooped to one side, landing just above his glasses. I tried to focus on the conversations going on around me but my thoughts kept wandering back to Edward. I was dreading the moment he entered the room and turned his angry gaze on me.

   My anxiety only grew while I waited. My appetite never appeared, my muscles were tense, and my knee was shaking so much that the chair under me squeaked in protest. He never appeared, rendering all my anxious energy useless.

   After lunch came Biology. I approached the door with dread coiling in my stomach. Maybe he'd decided to get lunch somewhere else in town, which meant he would still be in class. I hesitated outside for as long as I dared, but the warning bell sounded. Classes were starting.

   Edward wasn’t in his seat when I entered, and the dread faded. Until about halfway through class when the realization hit me, it had merely transformed into a messy combination of guilt and irritation.

   How could I have pushed Edward away before I even had a chance to speak to him? How could he hate me so much he’d skip school to avoid me?

   I told myself repeatedly that  I couldn’t possibly be the problem. After all, Edward didn’t even know me. Still, the voice in the back of my mind that said it was all my fault just wouldn’t go away.

   The day took a turn towards terrible when we had soccer in gym. I tripped over my own feet several times, fell in the mud, scraped my palms, and even misaimed a kick so much that the ball hit one of my classmates in the face. After that, the teacher told me to stand in the corner of the field and watch. When school finally let out, I practically ran to my truck. I slammed the door in my hurry to get inside and cringed over it. Then I turned the key and put the heater on high, waiting for the warm air to come rushing out of the vents.

   I backed out of my space and into the line of people waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited for my turn to leave, I saw the Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. A shiny Ford. Of course. Previously, I’d been too dazzled by the Cullens’ supernatural beauty to notice their clothing, but now it was obvious they came from money. I felt a brief stab of jealousy. It wasn’t enough that they were so pretty, they had to be well off, too?

   I yanked my gaze away from them but I could feel the group stare at me as I drove past them. Did they share the theory that I drove Edward away?

   This morning, Charlie had asked me to pick up a few things from the grocery store after school. It was only a few minutes away- but so was everything else. The bright lights and stocked shelves reminded me of doing the shopping back home. I fell into the familiar pattern with ease. It was practically second nature how I ghosted through the aisles, keeping track of Charlie's budget in my head.

   When I got back to the house, I shoved the groceries wherever they could fit and began to prep dinner. All it took was tossing some steaks in a marinade and throwing some potatoes in the oven. This was a meal that I knew Charlie would approve of, and the perfect way to introduce him to the idea of me doing the cooking.

   When I finished the prep, I took my backpack upstairs and threw on a pair of pjs, tying my hair up afterward. Glancing at my school bag again, I sighed. Most of the homework I’d been assigned today was covering things I’d already done back home-- and I wasn’t looking forward to repeating it.

    Instead, I put the effort into checking my email for the first time since my arrival. Charlie still had dial-up, and the laptop beeped and screeched at me as it connected. Renee had signed us both up for a service called NetMail through AOL so we could stay in touch through e-mail.

   Three unopened messages.

    Bella,

      Write to me as soon as you get time. I want to know everything about your flight! How is Charlie doing? Is it raining there? I’m sure it is.

      I miss you already. I’m almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find that pink floral shirt. Do you know where I put it?

      Phil says hi and good luck at school tomorrow. We love you!

      Mom

    That was sent about three hours into my five-hour flight to Seattle. I sighed and clicked the next one. It was sent eight hours after the first.

    Bella,

      Why haven’t you emailed me back? I’m waiting to hear from you.

      Mom

    The newest email was from this morning.

    Isabella Swan, if I haven’t heard from you by 5:30 pm, I will call Charlie.  

  My mom and I had always gotten along well, but Renee had leaned on me for a lot. I was sure that she was spiraling already. I glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. There was still an hour until mom’s deadline, but I had a feeling she would get antsy and call early.

    Mom,

      Everything is   fine.    Don’t worry. I was just waiting for something to write about.

      Bella.

    Send.

   Now that the danger of my mother interrupting Charlie’s workday was out of the way, I began a second email.

    Mom,

      Your blouse is at the dry cleaners, you were supposed to pick it up after dropping me off at the airport.  

      Of course it’s raining. I have to slosh through puddles to get to every single class I have. Speaking of, school is fine. Repetitive.   I’ve already done most of what we’re covering. Easy graduation credits, I guess!

      Charlie bought me a truck! I couldn’t believe it. It’s this old, sturdy thing. Which is good. You know. For me. I love it.

      I miss you too. I can’t check my email every five minutes, though. Breathe. It’ll be okay. I’ll write again when I have something interesting to talk about, I promise. I love you.

      Bella

    The novel we were studying in English was Wuthering Heights, which happened to be one of my favorites. My copy of the book was a well-worn hardback, the edges of the cover softened with age. It was easy to sink into the familiar fictional world; by the time Lockwood was having his first nightmare, the sounds of the world around me had blurred and faded into the background.

   “Bella?” My dad’s voice rumbled downstairs.

  Oh, crap, I had forgotten all about dinner! After hastily shoving a bookmark into place, the book was tossed onto my pillow. I rushed downstairs, tripping over my own feet at the bottom step, but Charlie was there to catch me by the shoulders.

   “Where’s the fire?” He asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

  “I forgot about dinner,” I explained sheepishly, leading the way to the kitchen to pull the potatoes out of the oven. I put the steak in to broil before turning around to look at Charlie with an apologetic smile. “I wanted to have it ready for when you got home.”

   “Bells, you don’t have to do that.” He said with a small frown. He must think I had the same bizarre food tastes as Renee. Her experiments in the kitchen often ended up in the trash, completely inedible.

    “It’s just steak and potatoes.” I shrugged dismissively, fluttering one hand. To balance out my mom’s wacky dinners, I had learned how to fend for myself and make it taste pretty good, too.

   “That’s not what I meant,” Charlie said, hanging his jacket on the back of his chair at the table.

  “What did you mean?” He set the table while I pulled the food out of the oven. I caught him sniffing appreciatively at the air.

   “I  mean,  I should be the one cooking dinner, not the other way around.” There was an unspoken  duh. As if nothing in the world made more sense than for Charlie to cook dinner for us. My throat tightened a little and my eyes watered. I turned to get myself a glass of water so I could collect myself without him seeing how something so simple had affected me.

   “Oh.”

   Charlie sat at the table, and I sat across from him.

  “It smells good, though. Thanks, Bell.”  He smiled warmly at me and I noticed how his eyes were beginning to crinkle at the corners. He was beginning to show signs of age now; lines in his face, salt and pepper flecked his scruff.

   We ate in silence for a while, which was more than fine by me. Charlie and I were quiet people and though I had misjudged my role here, we were good housemates.

   “How was school?” He asked, interrupting my thoughts, “Make any friends yet?”

  “Well…” I tapped some pepper onto my potatoes to stall for time. “Everyone’s really nice. I sit with a group of people at lunch, but I don’t know if I’d say we’re friends yet.”

   “Sitting with people at lunch is a good way to start making friends,” Charlie encouraged me. Was it that obvious how worried I was about being the new kid? And the reaction I’d gotten from certain classmates…

   “Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked suddenly, curiosity overtaking me before I could stop it.

   “Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure.”

   “The kids don’t seem to fit in.” I decided not to worry Charlie with Edward’s reaction to me.

  “Dr. Cullen has been a huge help to the community, you know,” Charlie said, more strongly than before. “We’re lucky to have him. He could have his pick of jobs all over the place. His wife wanted a small-town life, though. Sure, I was worried when they moved here with all those kids, but I haven't had one ounce of trouble from them.” He was really gathering steam now. “But just because they’re new to town and a little different, people just have to gossip about them.”

   I rethought my approach.

  “I just meant that they sort of stick to themselves.” I tucked my hair behind my ear before continuing. “They all seem pretty smart.” Or just pretty.

   Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “Guess there’s not much you can do in a town like this. People decided they were outsiders, so why should they try to make friends? Maybe you’ll have something in common with one of them.”

   I didn’t answer him, too busy thinking about what he’d said. We finished eating in silence, and he cleared the table before I had a chance to. I stood next to the table, feeling a little useless.

   “You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” I said, nodding to the pile of dirty dishes that Charlie had just finished stacking next to the sink.

   “That’s my job, Bells.” He kissed my forehead before retiring to the living room to put on the game of the night. I blinked quickly to counter the sudden wetness that sprung up in the corners of my eyes.

   Determined to help out around the house somehow, I turned back to the dishes. Charlie might want to take care of me, but that didn’t mean I had to be a freeloader. I washed the dishes by hand, and set them in the rack to dry. With no other preoccupations, there was nothing left to do but trudge upstairs to work on my math homework

   When I finally tumbled into bed, exhausted, I slept dreamlessly.

  The rest of the week flew by in an uneventful blur. I learned where all my classes were and how to get to them the fastest. I was also able to place most of my classmate’s names to their faces- and they knew not to pick me in gym class. Jessica was still happily chatting my ear off at every opportunity, and when I needed a reprieve from that- Angela Weber was there to quietly discuss Wuthering Heights.

   Edward Cullen didn’t return to school.

  The whole week, I shared my first class of the day with Rosalie, but I could never gather the courage to speak to her and ask what her brother’s problem was, or if he was coming back. Every day, I watched their table to confirm that he wasn’t there, then I could relax. Recently, Mike had really been pushing the idea of a weekend beach trip, and Jess and Angela always made sure to mention that I was welcome to come. I agreed to go, mostly out of a want to get to know my new friends. Whatever they called a beach here would only fall short of my expectations. By Friday, I confidently walked into Biology with the knowledge that Edward wouldn’t be there with his strange, hateful stare.

  My first weekend in Forks was, predictably, boring. Charlie, who had been working weekends for the last fifteen years, spent most of his time at the Sheriff’s Office. I spent my time cleaning the house, reading ahead for English class, and emailing with my mom.

   On Saturday, I went to the Forks Public Library but I was disappointed by their selection, and didn’t even bother to get a card. I looked at the local stores to see what their small selections had, but no dice. It seemed I was going to have to make a trip out of town if I wanted any new reading material. Would my truck be okay on the freeway?

   Thankfully, the rain remained a soft pattering and didn’t hinder my sleep too much.

  On Monday morning, people smiled and waved at me in the parking lot. I waved back, even at the people whose names escaped me. It was cold this morning, but the rain had taken a hiatus.

   In English, Mike sat next to me, reliable as ever. We had a surprise quiz on Wuthering Heights, no doubt I would get an excellent grade on it. I was more confident and comfortable in Forks High School than I had expected even a week ago. More comfortable than I had  ever expected to be in Forks.

  When English ended, the class streamed outside… and into a flurry of white tufts in the air. I could hear teenagers yelling gleefully from every direction. My nose twinged in the cold.

   “Snow!” Mike grinned.

   I shoved my hands into my pockets, surveying the sidewalk for ice. “Ew.” I wrinkled my nose.

   “You don’t like snow?” Mike asked, his gleeful look dampening significantly.

  “I guess it’s better than rain.” I conceded. “But I thought it was supposed to be prettier than this. Distinct flakes or whatever.”

   Mike looked at me with all the disbelief he could muster. “You’ve never  seen snow?”

   “Well, yeah. On TV.” I said defensively.

  Mike laughed, but the sound was cut short by a ball of slush hitting him in the back of the head. I anxiously looked in the direction it had come from, ready to use my backpack as a shield. Eric had his back to us, walking in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike knelt down to scoop up his own ball of mush.

   “You know what, I’ll just see you at lunch,” I said hurriedly, beginning to make my way towards the school. “Once people start throwing things, I get out of range.” I shot him an apologetic smile, but his eyes were trained on Eric’s back.

  The only thing anyone wanted to talk about was the snow’s sudden arrival. I bit my tongue, to not ruin everyone else’s excitement. It seemed like I was the only one who wasn’t fond of the cold, wet weather.

  When it came time for lunch, I hurried to the cafeteria with Jess. Snowballs were flying left and right, though they didn’t really stick together well enough to be qualified as a ball. Jessica thought that I was being dramatic about the whole thing, but she was nice enough to not pull me into the brief snowball fight between herself, Mike, Eric, Ben.

   The fight only lasted from building 3 to building 1, where the cafeteria was. Mike opened the door for us. They argued about who had won as we waited in line to pay for our food. Nothing but habit brought my eyes to the table that the four Cullens occupied every day. Only today there were five of them. I froze where I stood. It would be better to be back out in the snow.

   Jess tapped on my shoulder. “Earth to Bella! Hello?”

  I looked down, feeling the heat from my cheeks up to the tips of my ears when I blushed. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, though, I firmly reminded myself.

   “Are you alright?” Mike asked, leaning over Jessica’s shoulder to look at me.

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, tucking my hair back. I carelessly tossed an apple and milk crate onto my tray and followed my friends.

   “Are you sure you feel okay?” Ben pressed.

  “Actually, I feel kind of sick,” I admitted, sitting next to Jess and keeping my eyes down. Twice more during lunch, someone asked how I was feeling. For a fleeting moment, I considered playing it up so I could skip my next class. Biology with Edward. I almost shuddered at the thought but reminded myself that I’d done nothing wrong. Edward was the one with the problem. I steeled myself and looked at the Cullen’s table. If he still looked at me like I was some kind of loathsome monster, maybe I  would skip.

   At the end of the table, Mike laughed boisterously at something; this was my excuse to look in that direction, and then peer past him to the table where the otherworldly family was sitting. None of them looked at me. I sat up straighter. They were joking and laughing with each other. They appeared to have snow in their hair, though it was melting rapidly under the school’s heating system. Rosalie and Edward were leaning away as Jasper shook his head like a dog- causing icy water to fly at them. They were just enjoying the snow like everyone else, only they looked like movie stars.

   Besides how loud and happy they were compared to last week, there was something else that was amiss about the scene. I found myself staring at them individually as I tried to figure it out. I was the most familiar with Rosalie, since we shared a class, so I started with her. She looked the same as ever: stunningly beautiful. The others looked the same as always too, maybe the scene had seemed off because Edward had returned.

   I looked at him with the most attention. He was flushed, for one. Maybe from laughter, or the cold. It looked like he had finally gotten a good night’s sleep, the bags under his eyes were much less pronounced. There was still something, though…

   “Bella, what  are you staring at?” Jess asked me, pushier than usual. How long had I been spacing out?

   Her eyes followed my gaze.

  Edward looked our way as if we had called out to him, even though we were all the way across the room. I looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. Our eyes met for just a second. He wasn’t wearing that angry expression from last week, he looked curious again.

   What was this guy’s deal? Why couldn’t he make up his mind?

   “Edward Cullen is staring at you.” She said in a hushed voice.

  “Really?” I squeaked. “I don’t think he likes me.” I felt queasy, and offered to trade Eric my milk for his water bottle. He accepted and I took a large gulp of the refreshing liquid as soon as he passed it over.

   “It’s okay, Bella.” She said comfortingly. “The Cullen’s don’t usually like anyone. But he’s still looking at you.”

   “Stop looking!” I hissed.

   She giggled, but looked away. I took a smaller sip of water, focusing with all my might on not looking at the Cullens.

  Mike spoke up then, and I had never been more thankful for his interruption. He was planning a snowball fight after school, and announced it loud enough for everyone to hear. Jessica agreed enthusiastically, but I was starting to think she would agree to do anything as long as Mike was involved. I decidedly didn’t speak up, and began to plot where to hide until the fight was over and I could safely make it to my truck.

   When the bell rang, I made my way to the door quickly-- hoping to avoid walking to class with Mike, who seemed to be a large target for snowballs. But he and my other friends caught up to me in two long strides. When we got to the door, everyone groaned. The snow had pretty much stopped coming down, and what little snow had stuck to the ground was muddy and gross. I hid my pleased smile and tested the iciness of the sidewalk. As good a grip as any other day. Well, on a good day for me. Mike complained about the snow’s disappearance until we got to the door of the biology classroom.

  I was relieved to see my table was empty and rushed to it as if getting there first allowed me some kind of claim on the space. Of course, this wasn’t the case, but it made me feel better nonetheless.  I had been here all last week, after all.

  Mrs. Ramone began to hand out microscopes and slides, and my classmates chattered quietly among themselves. I doodled on the cover of my notebook, sketching out the sparrow I could see from the window next to my table.

   The chair next to me was pulled out with an unsettling screech, but I very carefully kept my eyes averted from my tablemate.

   “Hello,” Said a quiet, musical voice.

  This was the first time one of the Cullens had spoken directly to me, and something about the windchime quality of Edward's voice sent a shock through me. I sat rigidly and whipped my head around to face him.

  He was sitting at the furthest end of the desk, like last week, but his chair was turned so that he was facing me. It almost seemed casual but something was jarring about the whole thing. He seemed unnatural somehow, like he didn’t belong here. His expression was friendlier than I expected, a polite smile gracing his features, but his eyes were guarded.

   “I’m sure you’ve already gathered by now, but I’m Edward Cullen,” He continued, “And you’re Bella Swan, right?”

   My mind swam. Had I completely imagined Edward’s hostility? He was friendly now, if a little strange.

   “Why did you call me Bella?” I blurted.

   “Oh, is Bella for friends only? I just-” Edward faltered.

  “No, I prefer Bella. Everyone called me Isabella when I first got here… I guess Charlie- I mean, my dad- must call me that when I’m not around.” I explained, feeling even more out of my element than usual. I felt tongue-tied in front of this strange guy.

   Thankfully, Ms. Romane clapped her hands together to gather our attention. I was incredibly grateful for being saved from any more embarrassing small talk. Today, we were going to be identifying and sorting cells into the phases of mitosis without looking at our books. The teacher would be making rounds at the end of class to see who got it right.

   “Let’s get going everyone!” She clapped her hands together again.

  “Shall we?” Edward asked, smiling crookedly as he pushed the microscope towards me. I was once again struck by his dazzling beauty-- until his smile began to fade. “Or I can start,” He added. Shoot, I must have waited too long to answer him.

   “I can do it.” I shook my head a little to clear it from the fuzz that had momentarily clouded my mind. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

   Okay, maybe I wanted to show off a little. My previous school had been more advanced than Forks High, and I had already done this before. It was easy. I slid the little glass slide into place and adjusted the microscope until it was properly focused. It only took me a few seconds for me to assess the slide.

   “Prophase.”

  I started to remove the slide, but Edward reached out to stop me. “Mind if I look?” His hand was freezing, as if he had just come in from playing with the snow. I couldn’t help but gasp and pull my hand away. Besides being cold, it was as though he had shocked me. I tried to chalk it up to static electricity he took the microscope.

   Curiously, I watched him examine the slide. He had barely looked at the thing before writing  prophase gracefully on our worksheet. He switched out the slides and glanced at the second one just as quickly as the first.

   “Anaphase,” He said, writing it down as he spoke.

   “Mind if I check?” I asked, sounding more courageous than I felt.

  Edward pushed the microscope my way, this time avoiding any contact between us. I tried to look as quickly as possible. I was disappointed, he was right.

   “The next one?” I asked, my competitive nature peeking out. He handed it to me, still careful to not let our skin touch.

   “Interphase,” I announced. He took the microscope from me with an amused smile.

  Despite our competition, we were the first team finished. Mike and his partner, a girl named Ali, were comparing two slides repeatedly. Another group seemed to have broken a slide and were trying to tape it back together. I tried to hide my own amused smile at that. Unfortunately, finishing first meant that we had nothing to do but wait for the end of class. I tried not to look at him, but that didn’t last long.

    When I glanced up, Edward was looking at me with intensity. Frustrated again, like he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, it clicked in my brain. Why his family looked so different.

   “Are you wearing contacts?” I asked. Oops. I hope that wasn’t being rude.

   Edward blinked in surprise. “No,” The way he said it, with a lilt towards the end, made it sound like a question.

   “Oh.” I mumbled. “I just thought there was something different about your eyes.”

   He shrugged. “They are kind of a weird color, right? I think it’s genetic.”

  I was sure that it was something other than a mutated brown color, though. I could distinctly remember the black color of his eyes the first time I had seen him. The stark contrast between his hateful stare and the pallor of his face. Only today, his eyes weren’t black. They were a dark butterscotch color, the golden tone that shone in them complimented his bronze hair. I couldn’t make sense of how that could be. Unless he was lying about the contacts. Maybe I had just imagined the darkness of his eyes in my anxiety.

   I glanced down. Edward’s hands were clenched into fists. Only for a moment. Then they smoothed out and he smiled at me. I almost forgot to be suspicious of him.

   Ms. Ramone came to check our work. She squinted at the paper then frowned at Edward. “You didn’t share with your partner, Edward?” She asked, looking at the worksheet holding only Edward’s elegant handwriting on it.

   “Bella actually identified three out of five of the slides, Ms. Ramone,” Edward said with a charming smile.

   She turned to me then. “Well done, Bella. Have you taken this class before?”

   “Not with onion root,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.

   “Whitefish?”

   “Yeah.”

   She nodded. “Were you an advanced placement student in your last school?”

   “Only in science and English.” I couldn’t help being a little proud.

  “I suppose it’s good that you and Edward are partnered, then.” She said with a small chuckle, moving on to check Mike and Ali’s work. I began to doodle on my notebook again, filling in little details to my drawing from before.

   “Too bad about the snow, huh?” Edward asked, his musical voice jarring me out of my thoughts. I hated small talk, and I had the feeling he was only forcing himself to be polite to me, anyway.

   “Not really.” I mumbled, past bothering to hide my irritation with the weather.

   “You don’t like the cold?”

   “Or the wet.”

   “It doesn’t sound like Forks is your kind of place, then.” He said, thoughtfully.

   “You have no idea,” I grumbled, glancing at the window and privately shooing the clouds away.

   He looked like I had said something incredibly profound. I impossibly tried not to be distracted by his expression.

  “So why’d you move here?” His voice was pure curiosity. He didn’t want to know because I was the shiny new toy, gossip for his friends. He seemed genuinely interested and no one had bothered to ask me that yet, especially so pointedly. It took me by surprise.

   “Um.”

   “You don’t have to tell me.” It looked like he couldn’t bear not knowing.

   I hesitated, but met his eyes. His golden gaze captivated me, and I blurted out an answer without even thinking about it.

   “My mom got married.”

   “Oh, and you didn’t like the guy?”

   “No, Phil’s great. Really.”

  “So why didn’t you stay with them?” Edward’s voice was still burning with curiosity, but there was an underlying kindness to it.

    It didn’t make any sense why he was so interested. He was staring at me like I was holding the answers to the universe. If he was always this intense, it was going to give me whiplash the next time he decided that he was going to be hostile.

   “Phil’s a minor league baseball player, so he travels a lot.” I smiled, remembering piling into his van with my mom to travel with them. It had been fun, for a while.

   “Is he famous?” Edward asked in a light tone.

   “I don’t think you’ll have heard of him.”

  “So your mother sent you here so that she could travel with her new husband?” Edward tried to untangle the threads of my story.

   I shook my head, almost insulted. “No,” I said indignantly, “I sent myself.”

   His brows furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

   I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him anyway?  Why did he care?

  “Well. She stayed home with me for a while, but she missed him. It made her unhappy, that didn’t work. So the three of us traveled together for a while. That was fun, but it wasn’t…” I struggled to find the right word, “Stable. So I decided that it was time that I came to be with my dad.” I tried not to sound glum about being stuck in Forks because the truth was that I really  was glad to spend time with Charlie. I just wished we got to spend time together somewhere else.

   “But you’re not happy.” He said simply.

   “So?” I raised an eyebrow.

   “It’s not fair,” He shrugged, but their eyes hadn’t lost their intensity. “It sucks.”

   “Why’s it matter to you anyway?” I demanded, resisting the urge to childishly stick my tongue out at him.

  “Good question.” He muttered, mostly to himself. That seemed like the only answer I was going to get. This was confirmed by Ms. Ramone interrupting us by calling for the class’s attention. I couldn’t understand how this bizarre, beautiful boy had gotten me to reveal more about my life to him than any of my new friends had. And there was still the mystery of whether or not he hated me. He had seemed friendly enough during our conversation, but I could see him leaning away from me now, hands curled into fists again.

   I tried to at least look like I was paying attention to Ms. Ramone’s debriefing.

   When the bell  finally rang, Edward swiftly took his leave. He moved gracefully, like a large cat on the prowl. I stared after him in amazement and Mike took this as an opportunity to hop to my side.

   “That sucked!” He groaned. “I couldn’t tell any of ‘em apart. You’re lucky you had Cullen to do it for you.”

  “I identified half of ours,” I snapped at Mike, stung by his comment and frustrated by Edward. Immediately, I regretted taking out my strange mood on him. It didn’t seem to dull Mike’s mood much.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

  He changed the subject to the beach trip, lamenting that the snow from earlier indicated that it was still too cold to go. His chattering just couldn’t hold my attention as we walked to gym.  He was on my team today, and graciously let me sit out. I still managed to catch my toe on the lip of the doorway and almost tripped on my way out after class.

    A mist was gathering in the parking lot as I made my way to my truck. I idly thought about giving it a name, if it had enough personality to warrant giving it one. Time would tell on that. As per my new routine, I hopped into the cab and turned the heater on high. My cold hands warmed in front of the vents before fluffing up my damp hair so it would dry out on the short drive home.

   Before backing up, I looked around to make sure no one was behind me. I noticed a still, pale figure in my mirror and realized it was Edward Cullen. He was leaning against his Ford, staring right at me. My heart jolted in my chest, causing my foot to jump off the clutch too fast-- the engine stalled. I groaned and rolled my eyes. Turning the engine over again and cautiously pulling out, I stared ahead as I drove. As I passed, I could swear Edward was laughing at me.

[guilty-pleasures-abound]

For the trope idea, A!Ford and O!Reader? Am I doing this right?

If you mean A and O to mean Alpha and Omega for an ABO au then yes!

This is filthy, but goddamn do I fucking love ABO.

“Did you know,” Ford murmured, licking a hot stripe up the back of your neck, “that this is the only dimension known to have Alphas and Omegas?”

“Didn’t,” you panted, letting your head drop down, forehead pressing against the mattress.

“It was a strange adjustment, traveling through the multiverse, not once scenting an omega,” he continued—this, murmured against the back of your head, nose in your hair, clearly indulging in just that; the omega scent of you, even more delicious to him with the beginning of your heat starting to creep in. “Smelling you… it was like finally, really coming home.”

That made warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lust building in your core, nothing to do with the way he was rocking his hips inside you, and it made you glad that you were facing away from him; elbows braced on the bed, knees digging into the mattress, able to press your face a little firmer into the sheets to hide your emotional flush.

“Not to discount the impact of encountering my brother’s recognizable scent,” he added with a hum, “but smelling another alpha, in comparison to smelling an omega—”

“Christ, Ford, shut up.”

That seemed to take him aback, but you thanked the universe that he rolled with it with grace.

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, twelve fingers squeezing your hips, the thrust of his body getting sharper, deeper, making you moan and arch under him. “You need my knot, don’t you, darling?”

Your body gave an involuntary squeeze around him—his words, just the idea of finally getting his knot locked inside you—making you drench his cock with slick.

“That’s it,” he murmured on a moan, one of his hands releasing your hip to dip between your legs, driving your pleasure even higher. “That’s it…”

Fuck it was so good, his hips pumping steady and deep, his hand working you, his hot breath on the back of your neck, lips kissing and teeth digging in with gentle pressure, his incredible, mouth-watering alpha scent tugging on something deep and primal inside you.

It was so easy to slip into a lustful fog, just letting this goddamn amazing alpha drive you higher and higher.

Then the catch of resistance on your entrance, drawing a sharp gasp out of you and a deep moan from him, the beginning of his knot starting to inhibit the thrust of his hips and giving everything a sudden, frantic edge.

“God, knot me, please,” the beg was out of your mouth in a breathless rush, jolting back onto the bulge at the base of his cock that was so close to locking him inside.

You didn’t know if it was your plead or your movement that served as the final push, but the grind of his hips and the pressure of his knot tying you together in the next moment made pleasure burst through you in a violent wave, squeezing you around him as tight as you could.

Not even the sink of his teeth into your shoulder could dull your exquisite climax, made all the better by the pulse of his knot and his hot release pumping inside you as he moaned over and over around his mouthful of your flesh.

“That’s perfect, Omega,” he managed to release the clench of his jaw from your shoulder to murmur in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your skin. “Simply perfect…”