#you get to die being held in the loving arms of your disappointed god c: ]

[strongfuck]

HEY NOW. DON'T MAKE ME WEAK FOR HYPERION RHYS

love yourself please dont be weak for him

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

(/rp! also, huge trigger warning for assault, graphic violence, death, abuse, possessive behaviour, obsession, mental breaks, hallucination, really fucking creepy treatment of a corpse, unreliable narrators, the perspective of a villain, torture, manipulation, and gaslighting! this gets pretty fucked up).

When Dream sees Tommy for the first time, there is no dramatic shift, no acknowledgement that his life had changed forever. No knowledge of the fact. All he sees is a skinny little kid who's obnoxious and loud, and he catalogues him just as one of Philza’s strays and leaves it at that.

No, it’s when Tommy drives the sword into his chest for the first time, and Dream wakes up from his non-canon death smiling despite itself when it clicks. He’s not sure what “it” is, exactly, but it’s just something about him Dream hadn’t seen in anyone before that has him hooked, captivated from the beginning.

(There's the vague recollection that he was like Tommy once, a bright eyed naive youth too loud for his own good, but that’s not unique. It’s not that, at least not entirely.)

The conflict was not started by Tommy, nor was he of any particular threat to Dream, but he was fun. So he ignored the rest, and took the boy's music discs. He knew Tommy well enough that he’d fight for them, and fight he did, and even though Dream lost in the end he laughed all the while. He’d played many a game before, but none quite this fun!

They both know this isn’t where it’ll end. Only one hopes it will be.

——

Dream didn’t care much about Wilbur's little revolutionary movement at first. As long as he obeyed the rules, and stayed in the server, it wouldn’t matter whether he delusionally thought he was under his own governance or not.

This changed immediately when he learnt Tommy was involved.

L'Manburg, a name he didn’t bother to remember until he learnt Tommy named it, was tiny, barely any more than a scavenged old world vehicle and some trees. It’s populace was peaceful, only Wilbur even an adult. None of that mattered. It wasn’t that the nation was a threat, though he certainly wouldn’t dissuade his friends fear that it was. But fighting L'Manburg meant fighting Tommy, and Dream wouldn't pass up the opportunity for anything.

He grinned with glee behind his mask as he blew Tommy's strange dirt hovel “embassy” sky high, enthusiastically threatened Tommy before remembering half heartedly to threaten the rest of the nation. He made dealings, found weak links- a new immigrant to the SMP that joined L'Manburg after the war began, it turns out. He offered extravagant promises in exchange for their betrayal, hiding the strings attached to his fingers.

Oh, but it was all worth it when the person with the eyes of an old god lead the revolutionaries into a trap, all worth it when they descended on them at once. It was definitely worth it to kill Tommy, kill Tommy, see him scream and cry in pain and stumble trying to escape and him taking a shuddering last breath. Dream had never seen anything as beautiful.

(It was a war, and feelings like this were okay in wars, right? It’s not like he was obsessed, it’s not like he was a monster. He’d been trying to be good, and killing your enemies was good, right?)

He killed Tommy a second time, too. The boy with shaking hands and a leg hanging limp challenged him to a duel for his nations future. His loss was assured, and Dream knew Tommy knew that also. This one was quicker, Tommy dead between the arrow entering his skull and his broken body make a loud thud against the planks, but it was no less fascinating. If only he had infinite canon lives, Dream would happily give up any ambitions and spend eternity seeing the boy die in so many fascinating ways.

(No, what the fuck was he thinking? The SMP was worth more than some stupid kid, and Dream wasn’t so inept with morality to know torturing someone over and over, killing them, was wrong.)

(Yet, it was so tempting he was almost ready to renounce morality wholeheartedly.)

It eventually comes to the discs again, Tommy handing Dream his prized possessions for some silly little nation. Dream knew Tommy would do anything to get them back. Having so much control was addicting, even more than control of anything else. Dream had learnt long ago that if you didn’t have complete power over anything, people would take the power from you and make you hurt.

So why did he care more about control of some kid than avoiding his own pain?

——

Dream would have sided with Tommy. Really, he would have, but Schlatt just had the better deal.

He holds the book in his hands, power filling him. He repeats the incantation, sacrifices the blood from his veins. He stares into the face of a man near-identical.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, voice level. “”What do you wish of me?””

Dream grins behind his mask. “”Tommy.””

—

Wishes must come true, Dream thinks, as he sits on the beach of Logstedshire, Tommy passed out and leaning against his arm.

Oh, what he’d give for this moment to last forever. Alas, it passes, like they all do. Still, Tommy's getting so obedient lately- barely even grumbling as he threw his item into the hole. Part of him missed when Tommy would fight back all the while- his pained screams were entertaining. Still, it was safer this way, and more enjoyable in the long run. He’d hate to have his little songbird break it’s neck against the cage doors, never to sing again.

He’s not sure when life outside of Tommy became a chore, but he remembers dimly that it wasn’t always like that. There was a Dream long ago that wouldn’t give up friends and family, who'd cry over losing them even if he’d cut their threads voluntarily. He wasn’t that Dream anymore, the numb feeling in his chest a sign of growth. It didn’t matter that everything outside of Tommy was so miserable, because just being around the boy was a feeling a hundredfold better than any happiness he felt before.

Still, he had duties and responsibilities. Ones that seemed so important long ago, so fulfilling. Maybe one day they’d feel like that again. He had plans, from what he learnt. Government had not left him satisfied, but- whatever you could call what his relationship with Tommy was, it definitely did. Family, he supposed, recognising the boys actions towards him and his brothers. If he could make the entire server like that, that’d be a happiness greater than any other, apart from how Tommy made him feel.

He spent time with Tubbo, getting further and further towards getting that stupid fucking ram boy to calling him a friend and giving him Tommy's disc, all he wanted from him.

(He wasn’t jealous, of course he wasn’t. The anger he felt whenever Tommy called Tubbo a friend, that wasn’t jealousy. That was just logical).

Far more interesting was checking on the prison's completion. When it’s completed, it’d truly be a thing of beauty. Of course, his favourite part was the main cell, that he’d put so much thought into. He’d included all the little things that made Tommy squirm, made his breath hitch and eyes dart around fearfully. That would be so much fun.

(Tommy would learn to appreciate the fun in time, too. He was a smart boy, if irritatingly yet fascinatingly stubborn. He just needed to be taught that if he listened and just played along, Dream could give him the world.)

It took far too long, but eventually it finished, and he could return to the ugly mess of tents and logs he’d made so sure Tommy could never leave. He always started shaking when Dream showed up, trying desperately to hide his fear in his voice, and it was absolutely adorable. Dream savoured it, savoured everything about Tommy as they spent hours talking. Everything, his hysterical laugh, his nervous glances for escapes, the way he flinched whenever Dream grabbed his shoulder, his wrist, the poorly hidden look of pain when he held tighter, just hard enough to irritate the bruises that painted his skin a canvas of black and blue, it was all perfect.

Only he could love Tommy this much, and in time he knew Tommy would learn to appreciate that.

——

The second time he used the book, a tower extended from the ruins of the makeshift prison he’d made for Tommy. DreamXD stated ahead of him.

“”Brother dearest,” he said, “why are you calling on me again so soon?””

“”Bring him back,”” he said, voice painfully numb.

DreamXD shrugged a shoulder, golden hair waving around like in water. “”Who?””

“”Tommy.””

“”I cannot,”” DreamXD said. “”He lives.”” Dream couldn’t help but smile at hearing that.

“”Then bring him back to me.””

DreamXD laughed, a sound like church bells. “”That would be unnecessary. Did I not already grant you the mortal?””

Dream clenched his fist hard enough blood dripped onto scorched earth. “”He left me-“”

“”And you shall find him, no matter what.”” DreamXD smiled under the mask. “”You are bonded to him, and neither death nor distance shall break that. Just look, and you will find him, til the end of time and even past.””

“”Thank you,”” Dream said, genuinely for once.

“”Only the best for my little brother and sister. And I know you would do the same for us, brother dearest.””

——

His planning had come to fruition for once.

They were alone, in the depths of the Earth, just him, Tommy, the fucking hilarious excuse for a “president” Tommy called a friend for some reason, and his axe.

Finally, he could bring his dreams to fruition. He could get rid of any loose threads, and claim what was rightfully his. And once he’d taught Tommy to be grateful, he could get to work on the rest of the server.

It’d be beautiful. Everyone would be his friend, his brother, his sister, something in between. There would be no more wars, just peace. Everyone would be safe, he’d know they’re safe and they’d never rip him to pieces and laugh at his pain. And oh, it’d like be hard work, breaking everyone into obedience but not too much to the point they become boring, but so enjoyable and satisfying. He’d almost be disappointed when it was over.

Tommy- his Tommy, his Tommy, was crying, and it was amusing but he almost wanted to reach out and comfort him and explain it’d all be for the best. He’d do that later, once he’d secured him and any loose ends were gone forever. He couldn’t afford weakness until they were alone, but Tommy made it so tempting.

The ram and Tommy hugged a final goodbye, and the adoration he had towards Tommy, hiding his fear behind a smile, made Dream fucking sick. He should know Tommy was his. They all should know. He’d teach them, when he made the server a perfect family. Even Tubbo, if Tommy begged enough. Dream would do anything to hear Tommy's pathetic, gorgeous begging, breaking through his aggressive walls, and bringing back some random sheep was easily in his brother's power.

See, he could be kind. He wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t even care if he was anymore, fun was so much more important than nonsensical human concepts, but it wasn’t even true. He could be incredibly, selflessly kind, as long as he had a reason. They’d learn, once he fulfilled his dream.

The sound of a nether portal, of betrayal, shatters his dreams and at this point he wonders why he’s surprised.

——

He’d had doubts, during the weeks (months, years? he had no way of knowing) he’d been trapped in the cell, but Tommy being here with him confirmed his design was excellent.

Oh, Tommy was being fucking obnoxious- and Dream knew he was doing it on purpose- but he saw it in the way he never was able to look at the lava properly, the way he always woke up in a cold sweat calling for his daddy like the child he insisted he wasn’t. It was perfect.

(Of course it was, though. It’s not hard to build on something already perfected, and Tommy was the perfect little toy.)

Tommy was so frustratingly different though. He tried not to take it out on him- it wasn’t his fault that everyone else spread lies, planted nonsense in his head about Dream being bad and not trying to do the best for everyone but especially for him- but he struggled sometimes, and it was always so tempting to hurt Tommy anyway, and get lost in the melody of his screams. It wouldn’t teach Tommy anything though, and that’s what was important. He needed to teach Tommy what was best for him.

Tommy had unlearnt all the lessons Dream painstakingly taught him. That wouldn’t be an issue- it was so, so fun to teach- but he knew, painfully deep down in his heart that he could not hold Tommy forever, not yet. The lockdown wasn’t forever, and Dream had no escape route yet. Tommy would just forget everything again, at the hands of his “friends” that couldn’t love him as much as Dream did. They needed to learn far more than Tommy did.

(Except Ranboo of course- oh, the purple eyed boy had the silly naive thoughts in his head everyone seemed to have that friendship was anything but possessing another, but he agreed family came first, listened to Dream, helped him, even with clenched teeth.)

And when one day the frustration got to Dream one day and he was so furious he hit Tommy again and again against the walls of the prison and strangled him until he was cold all he could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was so, so funny, because of course he’d be the one to destroy everything he loved.

——

This time, when DreamXD is called, he looks upon his brother with concern.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, “”are you quite alright?””

Dream laughs, because of course he’s alright! The tears staining his face must be joy, because of course he’s alright. He’s holding Tommy here, with him, and he was quiet, he must be listening. He can’t be dead, he can’t be, then there’d be no point to any of this.

“”Drista has been concerned for you for quite a while, you know,”” DreamXD continued. “”Is this because of your mortal?””

“”He’s been ever so quiet lately,”” Dream said, with a voice hoarse from crying and laughter. “”I’m not sure to be concerned or happy with him.””

“”You’re not well, Dream.”” DreamXD said, with a tone of finality despite clearly being wrong. “”The boy is dead.””

Dream laughs. “”And yet he does not slip from my grasp.””

“”Then, brother, why did you call me?””

The silence pierces through air like a knife. Eventually, through hiccuping sobs, Dream says “”Just, please, bring him back.””

Tommy sputters to life with ghostly eye and pure white streaks and more bruise on him than corpselike skin and Dream thinks he has never been more perfect.

——

Quackity's left, he thinks, because the pain's stopped growing.

He laughs, because he doesn’t know what to fucking do anymore but laugh. He can’t give up the secrets of the book, of course he can’t. Family comes first, after all, and he dreads to think what the bastard would do to his brother. But the pain was awful, never ending in waves through his whole body, and he almost just wants to confess so he can die.

He cradles what’s left of his arm since the bastard cut it off at the elbow, and he sobs. He doesn’t even care to hide it with his mask. It’s not even the pain that hurts the most, even. It’s that Tommy's gone, and by the time Dream escapes- because he’s going to escape, he’s got to- he might be so far from his grasp even their fates being tied might not be enough.

“Of course that’s not true,” a fake voice says in his head, and wavy form approaches. Fuck, the blood loss must be bad today. It always is when he sees things. Usually it’s George or Bad or Sapnap, and it leaves him with a numb feeling in his chest that he’s familiar with, but today it’s Tommy, and that’s worse. It reminds him of what he cannot hold.

“Fuck off,” he mouths at the apparition, voice too tired and hoarse from screaming to speak properly. Not-Tommy laughs, and the sound is so similar to Tommy he almost thinks that his desperate prayers have been answered, Tommy is there again, but he reached his fingers forward and they go through his tired hallucination.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Not-Tommy says, and laughs again. “But I know you mean the best.” Dream shrugs his shoulder at the fake, and then curls up, new waves of pain curling up his arm.

“I don’t know why I was ever friends with that bastard.” Not-Tommy lies, and Dream wants to believe it. “You’re just having fun. He’s cruel.” Tommy would never understand that clear distinction, no matter how much Dream explained it, but the fake said it with such conviction it was almost enough for Dream to fall for it.

“When you get out, I’ll be there, Dream. And then we can all be a big happy family,” Not-Tommy says, the thoughts so obviously Dream's and not Tommy’s but- the idea that Tommy understood, that he saw sense, was so tempting, Dream allowed himself to believe it, just for a second. Just until the pain started anew.

Broken and bloody, Dream drifted into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐈𝐈 ↟ 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

↠  summary: Overcome with fever, you struggle to separate fact from fiction and after an unwanted visitor meets his end, you finally experience the infamous Blood God.  

↠ fantasy au

↠  pairing: c!Techno x fm!reader

↠  tw: blood, death/killing, gore, reader’s lack of morals, fever dream flashbacks

↠  wc: ~2.3k 

↠  previous chapter ↟ make a request ↟ create the next moodboard 

The wildflowers seemed to grow around you, threading through your fingers and cradling your body as the sun warmed your skin. You stretched your limbs, basking in the sweet rays when your hand was swatted back to your side, capturing your attention.

You turned your head, eyes meeting Dream’s. His green irises were nearly iridescent in the brightness. His blond hair was lighter than when you’d last seen him. Then again, the two of you were covered in grime, on opposite ends of a blade.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, voice calm and optimistic. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled slightly. “I’ve met a man, Dream. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to fall in love with me,” you joshed, turning your head back up to the sun. Spirals of color swirled with the clouds in the sky, mimicking a strange painting.

You could tell Dream was smirking at you. “Bring him with you. I need you back.”

You brushed your fingers against the brittle pages of the book in front of you. The worn spine and faded words brought a small smirk to your lips, knowing full well the book was only in such a state because of how well-loved it had been. It was an old story, one that you’d grown up hearing before being shuffled off to bed with the other children.

There was some kind of red marking in it as if it’d been in a child’s hands before you, which was probably the reason you’d had to stand on a chair to get to it. Of course, this was done behind Techno’s back as he bustled about, finishing up chores and whatnot.

You knew the extent of your injures now: a sprained, almost broken ankle, your side was torn open making Techno recount how many stitches were crisscrossing against your ribs. The pain that was the most troublesome was oddly the gash on your arm, cut open by a branch in the mix of your rush through the snow. Occasionally, your fingers went numb if you twisted your wrist wrong or pressed on the wound, to which Techno would cleverly quip, “Just don’t do that then.”

Techno strolled into your room, leaning against the door frame as he rolled the sleeves of his tunic. You perked an eyebrow in his direction, silently asking what he wanted. “You’ve spiked a fever three times this week. I need to keep an eye on you, but I have some chores to take care of outside,” he stated, approaching your bed.

“It’s the wound on her side,” an unfamiliar voice called, breaking into your dreaming. Your body began to tremble as your fingers absently searched for more blankets. You felt sticky and ill as if at any intense movement, you would surely die.

Coarse fingers brushed against your forehead gently. You recognized Techno almost instantly, even with the tiredness of your body preventing you from opening your eyes. “No, love. We need to get your fever down.”

You swallowed hoarsely. “Creat. I need creat,” you grumbled, reaching for his hands. “There’s some in my bag,” you mumbled, being pulled back to sleep by your exhausted body.

You furrowed your brows, narrowing your eyes as you looked at him. “So?”

“So, you’re coming with me,” he stated, pulling the book out of your grasp and yanking the covers off your frame. You let out a protesting groan as he held his hands out for you. When you didn’t budge, he rolled his eyes, slipping his arms beneath you and pulling you up as if you were nothing more than a sack of flour. You struggled to escape his grasp but to no avail. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, brat,” he threatened playfully.

You scoffed. “You wouldn’t. I’m injured,” you countered.

He sent you a smug expression. “I said what I said,” he assured. You went limp in his arms as he stepped out of the room, making him chuckle at your dramatics as your body mimicked liquid. “You’re just like Tommy,” he mumbled more to himself than you.

You straightened up, pulling your arm over his shoulder and fitting to his hold. “Who’s Tommy?” You quizzed making him shake his head.

“A story for another time,” he answered simply.

You rolled your eyes slightly, attempting not to blush at the feeling of his hands curling around your body. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He chuckled at your statement, pushing the door open with his foot. You took note of the set of arrows mounted with a bow beside the door, as if ready to be grabbed in the midst of an attack. The wind and winter hit you like a ton of bricks, the brightness of the sun gleaming off the snow burning your eyes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been inside, but you felt like an alien when presented with the elements again.

You shivered slightly as he put you down on the steps, pulling off his cloak and tucking it around you. You were swimming in the fabric as it pooled around you. You attempted not to dig your nose into its velvet coloring, which was still warm from Techno, his scent swarming around you. He didn’t pay any mind to you as you pressed the soft material against your cheek. “Who’s Dream?” He asked, setting a log up on a large stump before chopping it in half with the ax that was once wedged in the snow.

You looked at him cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

His ruby eyes flashed towards you momentarily. “You mumble about him in your sleep sometimes…” he commented.

You chewed your bottom lip, fighting not to smirk. “You’re watching me sleep now, Techno?”

He chuckled, splitting another log. His arms tensed with each impact; hair combed by the soft wind. “I was making sure the fever didn’t take you, so yes.” His quip made your cheeks heat. “Try not to over-exert yourself.”

When you finally woke up the last time, Techno’s head rested in his arms on the edge of the bed. As soon as you inched your arm to rub one of your eyes, he woke up, eyes peering at you as if you’d explode at any moment.

He stood, pressing his hand against your forehead and sighing in relief. His features seemed softer in the candlelight as he looked over you. “Let me check your wound,” he whispered softly as if trying not to disturb you as he lifted the covers, another sigh leaving his lips. A sign that you were finally close to being out of the woods.

Before you had the opportunity to answer him or swat off another one of his questions with a flirtatious remark, the sound of an approaching horse rider pulled both your attentions toward the woods surrounding the cabin. Techno let the ax fall to his side, eyeing you as if to tell you to keep quiet as a man stepped off the animal, dressed in the King’s armor.

Your heart stilled as your mind raced with attempting to place him. You swore you’d seen him before. Instead of reacting with fear, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stood from the step you were perched on, your legs shaking as you gained your balance. You hated to admit it, but you were still weak from your injuries and the fever.

You leaned against the railing beside the steps as the man approached Techno. Something clicked within you and you realized the reason he was there. Strength pumped through your body suddenly as you inched your way towards Techno. As if he could sense you nearing him, Techno peered over his shoulder. Your haggard appearance and choppy hair served as your shield from the man’s recognition.

The soldier eyed Techno, wetting his lips slightly. “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for someone,” the man began. You settled your hand on Techno’s lower back, reaching for his ax as he let it slip into your hands.

The man nodded to you in a greeting. “I haven’t seen anyone new in these woods,” Techno answered him, voice an octave lower as you made him the barrier between you and the man.

The man narrowed his eyes at Techno, face twisting into a mocking grin. “Well, if you come across her, Councilman Dream’s offering a hefty reward for her return.” Techno nodded slowly at him, attempting not to give you away as you went around the soldier. “From one man to another, I think you’re lying about her whereabouts. I’m sure the authorities would love to know where you are too.”

You heard Techno scoff, crossing his arms. You pursed your lips, getting a better hold on the ax before swinging at the man, severing his head from the rest of his body. Specks of his blood splattered against your face, the man dropping to his knees before sinking into the snow. The hot liquid was a stark contrast to the wind nipping at your cheeks.

Techno’s eyes blared at you, his mouth gaping partially. You wiped a hand across your face, attempting to get rid of the sticky crimson substance. “Blood for the Blood God,” you quipped, lips twisting into a smirk as he remained frozen. His pupils dilated, making you quiver. Suddenly, you felt like you’d disappointed him. “They won’t miss him. Look,” you squatted beside the man’s body, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the mercenary’s mark on his forearm; a crudely etched blood eagle staring back at you. “Plus, his armor is cheap. It’s a remake. He’s one of Dream’s sellswords-“

He cut you off, stepping over the body and grabbing your face in his hands, hoisting you onto your feet as he towered over you. Something animalistic burned in his features, anger dripping from his appearance as his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck. He terrified you, your hands moving to grip onto his wrists for stability. Your sights were glued to his as the two of you breathed heavily, your body coming down from its adrenaline high and his restraining whatever his primal urges were commanding of him.

He pulled you close to him as if he were going to press his lips against yours to elevate whatever was racing through his mind. Your body went limp in his hold before he bore his sharpening teeth. “Go inside,” he commanded, allowing you to slip from his grasp. You sank to your knees before him, his burning eyes ripping from you as he mounted one of his horses and left.

Your mind snapped into reality, tugging you to your feet and running into the house to grab the bow and arrows. You swung your leg over the man’s horse, taking off in the direction Techno went, desperately trying to wipe the man’s blood from your features. You looked for broken sticks and any tracks as the snow thinned until you finally spotted in him in the distance, sliding off his horse with his eyes focused on a deer in front of him.

You put tension on the bowstring, your arrow angling towards the deer. Without hesitation, you let it fly through the air, whistling slightly against the wind before boring into the deer. Techno’s head snapped towards you as you approached. “Rip it apart,” you stated, leaning on the horn of the saddle. The two of you sized each other up, breath forming clouds to mix with the winter air before he heeded your words.

You chewed your nail as you paced in front of the door, psyching yourself up to intrude on Techno. The image of him tearing the deer in half burned into the back of your mind, but you couldn’t help to wonder what he thought of you after you’d killed a man, even if he was a mercenary. You’d faced intimidating rulers without batting an eye, but Techno…

Techno was different.

You knocked lightly, pushing the door open. He looked at you over his shoulder, unbothered as he nodded for you to enter. You tried not to stare at the scars decorating the portion of his back that was sticking out of the tin bathtub. You stepped toward him, sitting on the floor beside him and pressing your shoulder to the other side of the tub so the two of you were facing in opposite directions. You felt like a child awaiting punishment.

“So, the Blood God lives then?” You broke into the silence. It seemed to be inappropriate to joke about now; for the first time since meeting him, you were serious.

Techno allowed a beat of silence to pass between the two of you, making you turned to look at him. His strong shoulders that you’d only dreamed about were on full display as his arms leaned against the edges of the tub, head leaned back slightly as his eyes closed. “Don’t condone my actions next time,” he mumbled, taking you aback. “And allow me to deal with the bloodshed.” He meant to tell you not to kill in defense of him anymore. You’d already explained that the man’s threat was the hairline for you; what swung the ax so harshly.

You swallowed. “You didn’t answer me,” you countered.

He sighed. “Only when provoked.” You drew your legs to your chest, chin resting on your knees. He reached toward you, brushing a finger against your cheek, barely missing your healing wound. The touch was gentle and reassuring as if to consul you silently. “What a pair we are.”

[apollostears]

➝︎ p$ssy fairy | k. takami

anime: my hero academia

pairing: keigo takami x black!reader

warning(s): nsfw, degradation, cursing, just nasty shit.

creator: maya

plot: when the dick is that good, you just can’t help but catch feelings for the number two hero in japan.

“shit kei! i-i’m close!!” your moans sounded like melodies to keigo’s ears, spurring him on to continue rearranging your guts.

wings flared out and blonde hair hanging in front of his face, keigo looked like a god hovering above you. the literal definition of beauty and it was fucking you into oblivion.

tilting your hips up just a bit, you began to fuck yourself onto his dick, feral for more. desperate to feel full. “fuck bunny, you’re always so hungry for my cock aren’t ya?” the pro-hero grunted, eyes narrowing into slits as his hands gripped the sheets on either side of your head.

struggling to speak, all you could do was nod as you moaned from another strong thrust into your slick canal. it was so good you could cry. no, it was so good you were crying.

“c-cum kei-” you slurred out, blissed out and teetering on the edge of euphoria. sentence structure was foreign to you the closer you got to your end.

ebony legs wrapped around his hips and bountiful breats moving with each push inside of you, keigo wasn’t going to last long. fucking you had to be his favorite thing in the world. tears flowing down your cheeks, drool peaking at the corners of your lips and mouth shaped so beautifully...he could die like this.

“come on princess, you can do it baby. cum on this cock, i wanna feel you baby bird.” keigo cooed, moving one of hands to rub vicious circles on your engorged clit.

a choked scream erupted from your throat as you came. velvety walls clamped around his dick, keigo could feel you orgasm so hard it almost pushed him out. a shiver ran down his spine at the thought of you being so full, cum just gushing out of you and it flipped a switch in him.

with renewed vigor, keigo pistoned his dick in n’ out of you, pushing your legs to the sides of your head to form a new position. a slight amount of cream began to form around his dick the more he moved in you and it made him grow harder.

squelching noises filled the room and you might’ve been embarrassed any other time, but you felt entirely too good right now to care. “it feels so good keigo! fuckkk me!” you squealed out.

your purrs of praise made keigo work harder to dummify you. seeing you fucked stupid and leaking like the cum dump you were was exactly what keigo needed.

“fuck y/n, imma fuck you so good you’ll feel me for fucking days. but even then that won’t be enough for a slut like you. you’ll be back begging for more. more of my cum in your tight. little. hole.” the last few words were emphasized with sharper thrusts into your leaking cunny.

overstimulated beyond comprehension, keigo’s filthy words caused your clit to jump painfully. you had already came three times that night and this next orgasm he was about to rip from you was going to be the icing on the fucking cake.

“ngh, c-cumming a-again! shit!”

your pussy was fluttering wildly around keigo’s cock and it made the avian predator grow closer to his release. “just one more bunny, i know you can give me another one. be a good girl for me, be-be a good fucking girl for daddy.”

two more thrusts and you were done, squirting around his cock, keigo leaned down and bit into your neck as he came in you so hard you could taste his nut in your throat. in between your loose state of consciousnesses, you heard the slight fluttering of keigo’s wings as his dick softened inside of you.

a whimper pushed past your lips at the change in size. “sleep baby bird, you did good.” he whispered in your ear, settling his weight onto you.

you didn’t need to be told twice as you grew comfortable under his heaviness and drifted off into sleep; completely fucked out and satisfied.

∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∶︎∶︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎∴︎∵︎

it had been three days since kei had sex with you. that’s exactly how long it’d been since the both of you spoke to each other. normally, this wouldn’t bother you seeing as you both agreed on strictly being friends with benefits, however this wasn’t a normal time.

within the six months the two of you had been fucking, you fell in love with him. like a dumbass. and that is the reason why you find yourself thinking of him when you should be filling out paper work. instead, you were sitting at your desk with your window open in case keigo decided to swoop in and surprise you.

loud vibrations pulled you from your thoughts as your eyes searched for the source. spotting the smartphone on the corner of your desk, you hastily went for it, thinking it was keigo. imagine your disappointment when it was only your best friend.

with a heavy sigh, you answered the phone. “hello?”

“uh EW! let’s try this shit again, okay? andddddd ACTION!” your friend yelled through the phone causing you to roll your eyes.

“HEY BESTIE!”

a squeal was heard on the other line and you couldn’t help but smile at the childlike behavior. “hey boo boo! what’s up?”

“just doing paperwork before i go on patrol. what’s up with you? called me to talk about my new support item??” you were a little hopeful that that was why your friend had called, something to get your mind off of takami.

“girl please. i called to make sure you weren’t moping over moby dick. but from the way you answered the phone, it sounds like you are.” she pointed out, much to your chagrin.

ignoring the nickname she had for keigo, you huffed at her annoying habit of putting you on the spot. “now you know i don’t mope over no dick.”

the silence was heavy as you waited for your friend to respond to your words. unsure why, anxiety crept up on you and threatened to take your life if she didn’t answer soon.

“bitch you is a fuckin liar!! you know that man got you by the clit! just tell him how you feel.” her voice held an all-knowing tone to it and you knew you weren’t getting out of this the easy way.

sighing, you leaned back in your chair and groaned. “he doesn’t have me by the clit and even if i did like him, he wouldn’t like me back.” you explained, thinking she would get what you were saying and let it go.

no.

“the math ain’t mathing. how you know big bird doesn’t like you?”

“girl...the nigga and i don’t even kiss!! it’s like a forbidden rule or whatever. and besides, keigo is definitely not the type to fall for anybody. let alone me.” you argued, annoyed that you were even discussing your feelings for this man.

turning around in your chair, you went to get up when you stopped, noticing the figure standing just in front of the open window.

“u-uh shit, girl imma have to call you back.” you spoke distractedly, ending the call without another thought.

several different things ran through your mind as your eyes anxiously took in keigo’s appearance. he had on his regular fit with a smug look on his face. like he knew something.

“yo-you didn’t text. why didn’t-? you usually text.” your emotions were in overdrive with all the possibilities of what could happen.

there was no doubt keigo heard you. part of you was hoping he wouldn’t say anything, but another part wanted to know what he’d say about your childish feelings.

“thought i’d surprise my baby bird since i hadn’t spoken to them in a few days. however, it seemed like i had interrupted something.” keigo spoke smugly as he stalked his way towards you.

lips dry, you swiped your tongue over them quickly before speaking. “whatever you heard, had nothing to do with you.” as pathetic as excuses go, that had to be the most pathetic one you had ever gave.

the energy that keigo was emitting, threw you off and the little laugh he gave at your response had you on edge. he had yet to mention anything about your conversation about him but he still remained as cool as ever.

stopping right in front of you, keigo’s wings spread, shielding your view completely as he dipped down to hover over you. gloved hands gripped the arm chairs and the shiny gold chain dangled in front of you temptingly. his hair was being pushed back by his glasses so he had intense eye contact with you.

“now, you know how i feel about lying baby bird. what did i say about that?” he taunted, his voice dropping to a low-even tone.

your voice was caught in your throat for a second at the intensity of the situation; a burning heat licking the skin on your body. “not to do it.” you whimpered submissively.

god, the way he could flip a switch in you like that was so...mind blowing and equally terrifying. keigo held you by the skin of your teeth and the scary part was that he knew it too.

humming in approval, one of keigo’s gloved hands skimmed over your lips. “so my birdie wants me to kiss her huh? not satisfied with my lips on other places are you?”

keigo had asked you a question but all you could do was whimper and shake lightly like the pathetic bitch you were. 

his avian eyes scanned you feverishly, for what; you didn’t know. “close your eyes for me princess.” he whispered, moving his hand to caress your chin instead.

doing as he asked, you closed your eyes and willed your body to relax. the texture of his gloves were familiar against your skin and you didn’t have to wonder much longer before you felt something soft against your lips.

wait...was keigo kissing you? too surprised to reciprocate the action, keigo pulled away much too soon with a smile on his face. with a shocked gasp, your fingers nimbly touched your lips in surprise.

“w-why? why would you do that?”

was he trying to pity you? entertain your foolish thoughts? toy with your emotions?

“couldn’t have my baby bird thinking i didn’t love her.” he answered honestly, stepping away from you and pulling his wings back.

still stunned, you tilted your head in confusion. keigo loves you?? what the fuck?

“i’d love to stay and make a mess of your lips, but i have to go back to patrolling. come by my place tonight when you’re done. okay angel?” keigo quickly said, making his way towards your open window.

not waiting for a response, keigo flew out your window and back to the streets of japan. and as you sat there in your chair, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread at the mere thought of what this meant for you and him.

*join our taglist:* @sweeneyblue1 @knjkitten @pimpnameyannie @simplyskz-maya @le-shrug

strikethrough neans i can’t tag ;( plss submit an ask so we can try and actually tag you <3

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Streaming, Flaxen, Waxen; or Yang and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Jaune: *Storming in* Okay, it was kinda funny when you started hiding my scissors, Yang, but you gotta stop.

Yang: *Who had been eating her lunch, talking with Blake* Okay, what?

Jaune: My razors, Yang. Stop stealing them already.

Yang: *Genuinely baffled* Don’t know what’s crawled up your ass, Jaune, but I haven’t touched your razors. Or your scissors.

Jaune: Oh sure and I just happened to wanna grow my hair out.

*Sure enough Jaune’s blonde hair now reaches past his shoulders in a half up, half down style*

Blake: *Swirling a glass of water, eying Jaune* I think it looks nice.

Jaune: *High pitched* i tHinK iT loOkS nICe.

Yang: Hey, watch it. She’s being serious. It’s a good look--

Jaune: Fine, whatever, but the beard!? C’mon, stop playing games.

*Jaune also has a pale, almost metallic blonde beard that’s gotten pretty long - to the point where he needs a beard comb*

Yang: And I’m telling you *blows a raspberry, covers her mouth*

Jaune: *Opens mouth, closes it* Okay, not gonna lie. That kind of dismissal actually stings, Yang.

Blake: *Smiling behind her glass* Jaune. *Nods to the wall behind him*

Ruby: *Blushing*

Weiss: *Wide eyed*

Jaune: *Gears slowly start working*

Jaune: *Realization dawns, gasp overdramatically* IT WAS YOU TWO!

Yang: *Bursts out laughing*

Blake: *Giggles*

Jaune: *Gazing brokenly into the distance* Betrayed by my own girlfriends. Oh, I can totally understand why every singer ever has written about heartbreak now.

Weiss: *Eyes are still fidgeting, not looking  at him directly and her cheeks have pinked* Oh stop. I-it’s just...*awkward pause* well it was Ruby’s idea so she should explain it!

Ruby: *Blushes harder and ignores Yang’s cackling* What!? Weiss you traitor! *Weiss refuses to look at her, clasping her hands* Well, uh, Jaune, i-it’s...ah, I know! How about me, you and Weiss go to the bedroom and I’ll fuck Weiss’ face on your dick while you eat me out!

Weiss: *Immediately goes bright crimson, shrieks* RUBY ROSE!

Blake: *Silently shaking from laughter*

Yang: *Freezes, lurches forward a bit* Oh. Well this is a new kind of pain.

*Weiss is slapping at a squealing Ruby, face burning and trying to get past the taller girls defenses*

Ruby: *Defending herself and peeking at Jaune from between her arms* H-howza ‘bout it!? Ow, Weiss, I’m sorry! Ow!

Jaune: *Crosses arms, gives disappointed stare*

Ruby: ACK! Not that look! OW WEISS, MY EYE! *To Jaune, hand over her eye* I only like that look when it’s cause I couldn’t hold my breath long enough or cause I came before Weiss *mutters* again. *Weiss slaps her on the top of the head* Ow, my soft spot!

Weiss: *Her neck is now red too as she finally, grumpily, crosses her own arms* Your entire head’s a soft spot.

Blake: *Has her face on the table to hide her tearful eyes, her body shaking*

Yang: *Clutches her heart* What happened to my sweet little baby sister who wanted me to braid her hair and brought me cookies and her stuffie when I was sad?

Ruby: *Defeated* Fine. I hope you know just what you were turning down--

Yang: *Crisis intensifies*

Ruby: --but if you have to know, it’s c-cause, well, *quickly* you look super hot with long hair.

Yang: *Distressed* She can shatter my entire world without blinking an eye but that’s what’s got her bashful!?

Jaune: *Blinks* Uh, thanks?

Ruby: *Blushing, looks away bashfully* Really hot. *Nudges Weiss*

Weiss: *Won’t look him in the eye* No matter how you wear it. Right now? You kinda look like a viking and i-it’s...yummy. *Ruby nods agreeing* Ponytail?

Ruby: Somewhere between starving, sexy artist and casual Jaune, which is just as sexy if not more.

Weiss: And g-gods help either one of us if you let it down because I don’t think you understand how good you look with a breeze running through your hair, just l-looking over the horizon.

Ruby: Even if you’re just thinking about what you’re gonna eat later. Trust me. It works. *Eyes glaze over* It’s like someone took hot guy and heroic knight and wrapped them all into one and *whistles and Yang flinches at it*

Weiss: T-the point is it looks good. Very good.

Jaune: *Shocked, very flattered and blushing* Oh. I had no idea. And my beard?

Weiss: *Face wobbles and she squeals, putting her hands over her face*

Ruby: Uh, that’s Weiss for she likes the way it feels. *Carefully puts an arm up, eying her girlfriend cautiously* Especially when you’re going down on her or she parks it right on you.

Weiss: *Screams into her hands, kicks Ruby in the shin and turns away* R-Ruuuubyyyy!!!!!! These things are supposed to be private! B-between lovers!

Yang: *Looking harrowed* Finally someone speaking sense in this broken, twisted world.

Ruby: Please, Yang knows I do stuff. She’s fine.

Yang: *Gapes, swallows* I think I understand how Dad felt when I started dating now.

Ruby: *Shrugs at Jaune* And I kinda love that too. Plus, just...mmmm.

Jaune: *Rubs his neck, looking away* ‘Mmm’?

Weiss: *Muffled* Yes. Beards suit you. Y-you’re handsome no matter what, but the p-pervert’s not wrong to suggest that this new look is very attractive.

Jaune: *Genuinely bashful* Oh. Then I guess it’s not so bad. But why didn’t you just say something-- *Looks at Weiss hiding while Ruby won’t stop cutely fidgeting* --aaannnddd nevermind. Got it.

*They all awkwardly stand there for a few minutes before Jaune nods, looks to Yang*

Jaune: Sorry for accusing you guys, I just figured this had practical joke written all over it.

Yang: *Weakly* N-no problem, Jaune.

Ruby: *Nods in the background* Okay, you got us both all worked up again - OW! My butt! I’m gonna make you kiss it better, Wei-OW-OW-OW! I’m sorry! *Focuses on Jaune, rubbing her recently slapped bottom* Jaune. Bedroom.

Jaune: *Immediately distracted* Well I guess if I’m having that much of an effect *trails off before smirking* but I think I know two girls who are in clear need of spankings. Faces down and asses up, you naughty girls.

Ruby: *Whispers* Oh gods we gave him confidence. *Shivers, salutes* Yes sir! *Scampers off*

Weiss: *Staring wide eyed, blush acting back up and she swallows, speaks quietly* You’re not the boss of me.

Jaune: *Smirks, walking forward* Oh? *Chases after Weiss who shrieks, spins and runs after Ruby, following her with his head held surprisingly high*

Blake: *Breathing heavily, hiccuping while wiping away mirthful tears* Oh my goodness. Those three are something else.

Yang: *Thousand yard stare* I want to die and never see the light of day again.

Blake: Oh please.

Yang: My poor, innocent baby sister! *Trying not to cry as Blake rolls her eyes, grabbing Yang’s arm to lead her outside and away from the house*

[sourwolfandlilred]

Out in west texas, it hardly ever rains

(but when it does, it’s amazing grace)

Stiles Stilinski flipped off the radio, tired of the breathless play-by-play of the Friday night football game. Golden boy quarterback Derek Hale had already scored four touchdowns guaranteeing the “douba-yah”--as it was called around these parts--anyway. 

His jeep bounced along the rutted road as storm clouds gathered in the distance. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, but it would likely burn off before it got to Marfa. 

The church stood sentry on the edge of town, parched dust-cracked earth stretching for miles and miles behind it. Stiles parked the Jeep and headed inside. 

To the piano. 

It was an old model, the C key so worn the ivory dipped where a finger tip would rest. But it played just as pretty as the best grand out there. Stiles didn’t bother with lights, just sat on the bench, and played. 

The thunder accompanied him, a deep bass line that Stiles felt in his chest. By the time he finished the song, his cheeks were damp and the storm had passed. 

***

“You weren’t at the game.”

Stiles slammed his locker and rolled his eyes, side stepping Derek Hale in all his snapback, wanna-be frat boy glory. “While I’m oh-so-flattered that you noticed my absence, me thinks you should get an MRI to check for brain damage if you thought I would show in the first place.”

Derek wasn’t deterred by Stiles’s acid tongue. Instead, he fell in step beside him, despite the fact that Stiles--for reasons he wouldn’t admit to--knew that Derek’s first class was on the opposite side of the school. 

“Would you come if I asked you?”

Stiles stopped abruptly enough to earn himself a curse from the freshmen behind him who hadn’t been expecting. He met Derek’s eyes. “Why would you ask me to?”

The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up, but it was almost self-conscious rather than smug. “Does it matter?”

***

Stiles went to the fucking game.

***

Lydia Martin hosted a party every friday night to fete the celebrities of their podunk town. Stiles had never been to one, though all sixty-three of their classmates were always invited. The place was too small for bullying tactics and popularity contests.

Someone shoved a red solo cup into Stiles’s hands, and he downed half the contents in one swallow. His fingers itched for smooth ivory and he tried to ignore the jittery sensation of looking for someone in particular. 

“Brooooo, you came,” Scott McCall slurred in Stiles’s ear while slinging an arm around his neck. Stiles took the weight of his drunk, pliant body, turning the tackle into a hug. They rocked like that as Stiles laughed. Scott loved everyone and everyone loved Scott, but Scott loved Stiles best. 

“Hey where’s your QB?” Stiles asked as casually as possible, and Scott beamed at him. Apparently he hadn’t been subtle. 

“Gazebo,” Scott waved, flashing all his white teeth so that his eyes squinted into tiny bits of happiness.

Stiles maneuvered him toward Kira and then wove his way through gyrating bodies and couples who had too little sense of what level of PDA was appropriate. 

When Stiles stepped outside, his skin tingled with the electricity in the air. Something was coming. 

Derek was alone, surprisingly. It seemed like he was forever surrounded by fawning groupies, or at the very least his phalanx of ride-or-die friends. Stiles didn’t bother saying hi as he sat on the bench next to him. 

“Did you have fun?” Derek asked as he took a hit on his joint. Golden-boy wasn’t always so golden. 

Stiles let his legs fall apart until their knees touched. “No.”

“But you came.” Derek said, said without looking at him. 

“But I came,” Stiles agreed, plucking the joint out of his loose fingers. Had they been doing this dance for years now? Stiles couldn’t tell. Derek was a part of the landscape as much as the snow-topped mountains in the distance. 

They’d never really been friends. Stiles’s father was the Sheriff, Derek’s mother the lawyer. They had enough crime that it caused friction between the two families. But they weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet, either. They were just two dudes trying to make it out of this god-forsaken town anyway they could. 

For Derek that was football. From the Smurf League when they’d been kindergartners it had been obvious exactly where Derek was headed in life. First draft pick for the NFL. 

For Stiles it was the long-shot Juliard--a dream his mother had passed onto him the day she’d died. 

He and Derek were as different as could be, and yet still... 

Maybe it was the way Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’s mouth when he took a hit. Maybe it was the Stiles let his hand drop to Derek’s thigh after he handed back the joint. 

Something in the back of Stiles’s brain itched, though. Him and Derek? It wasn’t just two queer kids finding each other in bumble-fuck Texas. He just didn’t know what it was. 

“Do you want to play?” Stiles asked, his eyes on the lights from the house. “Professionally I mean.”

“Nah,” Derek shook his head, earning a sharp glance from Stiles. “It’s what I’m good at but... no.” He laughed softly. “I like my brain intact.”

Stiles huffed out a breath. “Same.”

Derek glanced over. It wasn’t often that Stiles complimented him. Then he lifted one shoulder. They were close enough that it brushed Stiles’s arm. “I’ll use it to pay for college. But I want to be...”

He took a hit instead of continuing, and then handed it over to Stiles. Stiles bumped his knee against Derek’s. “Yeah?”

A blush crawled along Derek’s perfect cheekbones, and Stiles had to look away lest he do something utterly mortifying. 

“I like gardening,” Derek mumbled. “I thought maybe landscape architecture.”

Maybe some version of Stiles would have laughed at the admission. The idea of snap-back wearing, pick-up truck driving, all-American stereotype in the flesh planting daisies should have been funny. 

It wasn’t.

Stiles took a hit. Held the smoke in. Then in one swift move shifted so that he was in Derek’s lap, his knees on either side of Derek’s hips. Derek’s fingers came up, gripped the skin just above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans. 

The moment seemed frozen in time, syrupy and unreal. Stiles leaned in and Derek’s lips parted. Smoke slipped out between them, but in the next moment, Stiles was pressing it into Derek’s mouth. 

Derek breathed it in. Breathed Stiles in, really. 

When they drew apart, Derek’s eyes were wide, almost vulnerable, and Stiles ached with every part of his being. He wanted this to be real. 

So he ran. 

***

The church was as quiet as it always was when Stiles came to practice at the old piano. He made sure of it. 

But for the first time in a long time he didn’t want to play. 

The keys had always offered him an escape, a dreamworld where his mother wasn’t dead, his father wasn’t an alcoholic, and he wasn’t a weird kid who talked too much and dreamed too big for this small Texas town. 

For once, he didn’t want to escape. 

He pressed a thumb to his lower lip, as if he could capture the warmth of Derek there. The way the tip of his tongue had darted out in what had turned into a goodbye. 

“Play for me?” 

Stiles didn’t startle. He’d almost expected Derek to show, though he couldn’t say why.

But you came. But I came. 

Without acknowledging the request, Stiles dropped his fingers onto the keys. Amazing Grace was so easy, he didn’t have to think about it. By the time he finished, Derek was on the bench beside him. “Beautiful.”

Stiles chewed on the inside of his mouth. “My mother taught me how to play.”

A beat. And then, “Do you play because she wanted you to, or do you play because you want to.”

The question struck, like lightning, in the very center of Stiles’s chest. “Does it matter?”

It was a deliberate echo and Derek huffed. “No.” 

Maybe it had seemed like walls going up when that wasn’t the case at all. So Stiles took a breath. “Aren’t all of our lives made up of a combination of that? Expectations and hopes and desires and rational thought and irrational emotions? Her wanting me to play doesn’t mean it’s any less important if it had come from nowhere. It just makes it all the more meaningful that I am doing it, doesn’t it?”

“But what about your life?” Derek asked, and in that moment Stiles realized how much Derek’s trajectory had been guided by other people. 

“It’s not an either or,” Stiles said as carefully as possible. “For me.”

Derek nodded, his eyes on the piano. In the smallest voice Stiles had ever heard him use, he said, “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Stiles nearly laughed at that. But instead he nudged Derek’s shoulder. “No matter what you do, I’m pretty sure it would be impossible for you to disappoint anyone.” He searched for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t dismiss the fear, the ones that wouldn’t add more weight to Derek’s shoulders. “I would be proud of you no matter what you do.”

That blush again, the one that would drive Stiles to distraction. “Play it again for me?”

“Anytime,” Stiles promised and surprised himself by meaning it. 

Outside the clouds opened up and the rain beat against the windows. 

Inside, Derek hooked his ankle around Stiles’s, and the music played.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

[holylulusworld]

Little chaos

Summary: Having you around means chaos.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Fem!Reader

Characters: unnamed OFC’s, Benny Lafitte

Warnings: angst, language, sassy reader, attempted kidnapping, bratty reader, pregnant reader, fluff, mentions of smut, implied smut

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“Sours worms, my favorite chocolate bars, chocolate chip cookies, and my sweet Dean’s favorite Whiskey,” Benny chuckles at your words. No one would ever dare to call Dean Winchester, head of the Winchester empire sweet.

“Do you need anything else, chèr?” Benny looks around the crowded store. He didn’t like you wanted to drive to town to get more sweets. “Dean wouldn’t want you out here. Not while he tries to get Trenton’s piece of Lebanon.”

“Deano knows I like my sweets,” you coo. Benny knows you are a smart girl, clever even, but sometimes you sound like a clueless child. “We will be back before he can miss me.”

“Dean won’t like it,” you grin now. “Y/N, I mean it. We should hurry and head back before anyone can recognize Dean Winchester’s girl at a store.”

“Are you worried Dean will get mad or that a big bad guy will steal me?” chuckling Benny looks down at you. He likes your feisty personality, even your bad jokes but your behavior doesn’t make his job easier. “Don’t worry. If Dean gets mad, I’ll suck his dick and he’s nice again.”

“Jesus, girl,” looking around the store Benny tries to hide he’s embarrassed, “you can’t say things like that.”

“Why?” you innocently look up at Benny, not giving away you like to rile him up a little. “Don’t you like sex too? I bet you and your girl do dirty things too. You already know Dean likes to fuck me,” pointing at your five-months baby bump you grin at your bodyguard. “Now back to business. I need licorice for Sam.”

“We will get it and leave. No more shopping for today,” Benny insists. “Let me just get the rest of your list.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, dude,” crossing your arms over your chest you angrily glare at the man aiming a gun at the clerk’s head. All you wanted was to get some ice cream before driving back to Dean’s mansion. “I want ice cream, not a gun in my face, idjit.”

“You know my friend is aiming a gun to the back of your head – right?” the guy threatening the poor clerk spats. “Be good and follow us.”

“Listen, I got no clue what’s going on in the empty room you call your head, but I will for sure not follow you and your dumb buddy. Do you know who I am?” the man looks at his friend, confused as you don’t seem to be afraid at all. “I’m waiting, dude.”

“You are Dean Winchesters girl, pregnant with his child. That’s the reason we are going to take you with us,” the guy responds.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” you turn your attention toward the clerk who, by all means, is in no condition to follow your order. “I want vanilla ice cream, chocolate chip, and chocolate for my sweet bear.”

“Lady, we are about to kidnap you,” the guy behind your back grunts but you ignore him just like you did with his partner before. “Hands behind your back and be good.”

“I only put my hands behind my back for my Dean,” you smirk. “He licks my pussy in return, and we share some pie later. Now stop getting on my nerves.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the guy aiming his gun toward the clerk’s head turns his attention toward you. He aims his gun at your belly, narrowing his eyes as he unlocks his gun. “Do as ‘C’ says.”

“Gosh, can you just not?” you groan, hating that guy ruined your shopping trip. “I tried to get ice cream, not headaches.”

“You recognized I am aiming a gun toward your unborn child – right?” you shrug, finally turning your attention toward the man threatening the life of your unborn child.

“I did, sweet cheeks. I hope you recognized there are cameras at the shop and that Dean will know who hurt or even killed his girl and his unborn son,” the man’s face falls when you move closer to grasp for the hand aiming the gun at your belly. “You can aim the gun at your head and blow it off right fucking now ‘cause my Dean will come after you and do bad things to you.”

“Dude, he never said something about bad things being done to me!” the other guy, or if you want to call him like that, ‘C’ exclaims. “I’m out of this shit show ‘B’. I will not die for Trenton.”

The man is gone before his partner can blink. “One gone, one left,” you muse. It’s not as if you want to die or would put your child in danger but people like ‘B’ and ‘C’ would eat you alive when you show weakness. You learned to never show emotions or fear while facing enemies the hard way.

“Do you really want to kill or harm Dean Winchesters girl?” you ask, never breaking eye-contact with ‘B’. “You can still get out of town before he goes after you. Dean always knows what’s going on in his territory. This means he’ll be here in no time.”

“This was a job,” ‘B’ walks backward the moment the door to the shop swings open. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Dean who entered the shop. “I swear, I would’ve never hurt your girl or your child, Mr. Winchester. Please.”

“I want my ice cream, now,” you ignore Dean’s men drag the guy threatening you away nor do you turn around when his partner starts to scream. You got used to Dean’s business or that people are afraid of the man you love.

“Sweetheart, didn’t I tell you to stay at home and wait for me?” Dean sighs. His arms wrap tightly around your waist to place his hands onto your belly, slowly rubbing it. “You scared me there for a minute, baby girl.”

“I wanted sweets, ice cream and I got you your favorite pie. These guys are cuddly little kittens,” you snicker when Dean groans behind you. “I know you believe I can’t protect me or our baby, but I learned to defend myself. I didn’t need violence, only my sharp tongue.”

“Said tongue got you into trouble more than once, my little ‘chaos’,” you love the pet name Dean gave you after your first encounter eight years ago. “I still remember the way you begged me to stop fucking your tight little cunt behind that restaurant.”

Now he caught your attention. “It was you begging me to let you take me home if I recall right, Mr. Winchester,” whilst you turn around to face Dean his men ‘take care’ of the men who tried to kidnap his pregnant girlfriend. “I came so hard.”

“Baby, this is not the place to discuss your misbehavior from back then with me,” using his ‘mobster boss’ tone Dean looks down at you. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

“Only if you admit it was you begging me,” poking your finger into Dean’s chest, just like you did back then you smirk.

“Jesus, Y/N. You ran into me at that restaurant and argued it was my fault I spilled my drink over your flimsy dress. It was you riling me up,” Dean grunts, cock swelling in his pants at the memory.

“It was your fault, Sir,” you hiss. “I tried to leave the restaurant as my date was a boring douche. You ran me over. After I clarified it was your fault, you followed me outside, dragged me behind the restaurant, and ripped my panties down my cute ass.”

“It’s a nice ass,” Dean dips his head to press a soft kiss to your sweet spot. “You moaned my name seconds later when I got my fingers into that cunt of yours. It was you begging me to fuck you like the dirty little slut you are for me.”

“I got pressed against the wall, your cock slid home and I didn’t get the chance to deny you,” the mobster groans at your lie. “I was helpless. You were strong, tall and your dick so deep inside of me I thought I ended up in heaven – cock heaven,” you giggle when Dean makes a face. “You held me against the wall and fucked me like no other guy before.”

The clerk of the ice cream shop tries anything to no listen to your conversation. The boy awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, praying Dean won’t end his life for listening to your conversation.

“Little minx,” god, you love the dark grin on Dean’s lips, “I dare you to lie again. I can still slap your ass, Y/N.”

“You would like to do so, wouldn’t you?” you cock your head, grin mirroring Dean’s. You are shameless, even in front of strangers. One hand moves to Dean’s crotch and you just love how he growls low in his throat.

“Y/N don’t tempt me to take you here in front of that poor guy. I will show him your naughty little pussy. Fuck you deep and hard enough to make you scream my name or beg me to stop – but I won’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t say no but, we need to head home. I’m hungry,” you sigh. “Your son will eat me alive if you don’t feed the little beast inside my belly. That’s the reason I wanted to go shopping, Dean.”

“My girl was hungry?” Dean slings one arm around your shoulder. “We need to feed the wild beast I call my girl,” you giggle, loving Dean can go full angry alpha one moment and be soft only seconds later.

“I’m sorry, Dean. Benny said I shall wait in the car,” you look at Benny, who hangs his head, not meeting Dean’s gaze. He disappointed his boss, his friend, and almost got you hurt or worse. “It was not his fault. I sneaked out to get ice cream.”

“It was his job to watch over your, Y/N,” Dean searches his friend’s face, knowing Benny fears he disappointed his friend more than death. “I will let it slip this once as you are an untamable brat mixed with chaos.”

“Love you,” you wrap your arms around Dean’s neck. “Please don’t be mad at Benny. You should know I can’t be trusted,” snickering Dean pecks your lips, knowing all too well you are a chaotic dumbass sometimes. “I know that I should stop myself sometimes. I just couldn’t.”

“Let’s go home, my little chaos. I want to fulfill my promise,” whistling you grasp for Dean’s hand to rush toward the car. “I mean it. I’ll slap your ass one day.”

“I know and I can’t wait for you to do so, baby.”

“Look at my girl Benny,” Dean smirks watching you talk to his brother. “I know she can be a handful. Next time she tries to sneak out, just tell me so. I will tame my little chaos.”

“I’m sorry, chief,” Benny sighs deeply. “I thought I can handle her. She promised to stay in the car while I get the pie she wanted. I was away for like two minutes and she was gone.”

“Sammy got me the book I was talking about,” showing Dean the book you sigh as he’s busy scolding you for running off on your own. “Yes, Sir. I’ll stay at home and bore myself to death.”

“Y/N, this isn’t funny, okay. The guys, they got scared off, but next time, you could end up dead, just like our son,” Dean runs one hand over your hair, gently patting your head. “I love you and don’t want to lose you or my baby, little chaos.”

“Love you too, big grumpy mobster boss,” grinning you hide your face in Dean’s chest. “I promise to not run off on my own again. I swear on your dick if you want me to.”

“Sweetheart, what did I say about talking about anything involving certain body parts in front of other people?” you need to hold back a snort. Dean can be such a prude in front of others whilst being a kinky bastard in the bedroom.

“No talking about your dick, got it, Mr. Winchester, Sir,” this time you chortle. Dean groans as you can’t stop your mouth most of the time. “I get it, baby. You don’t want anyone to know you’ve got the largest dick I ever had.”

“Chief, I’m, you know-” Benny stammers. His cheeks are shades of pink when he walks out of the room, mumbling something about checking on the car.

Watching Dean check on the windows you sigh deeply. You didn’t recognize there is war going on out there.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I know that I acted foolish and selfish today. I promise to not pull such a stunt again. I don’t want you or one of your men to get hurt. I love you.”

“Love you too, my little chaos,” you smile when Dean lies next to you. He opens his arms to let you snuggle into his chest. His warmth makes you feel calm in no time. There is something about the dangerous man making you feel safe. “I know this is a difficult time for you. Being pregnant and stuck in the mansion must be boring, but I want to keep you safe.”

“I know,” lifting your head you gently pat Dean’s cheek. “I will not risk my life for ice cream again, baby.” Dean hums when you peck his chin. “Now cuddle me, my big bad mobster.”

Dean loves it when you show him your softer, vulnerable side. No one gets to see this side of your personality. Your façade is a well-built construct, created by pain, fear, and betrayal.

“I love you, Dean. No matter what people call you, you are my savior…”

SPN Forever Tags

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​

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@nihilismworld​​

@peaches007​​

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Eight

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want -3- this one is a lil ;-; at the end and i apologize in advance i just like fucking with people c:<

-> Word Count: 2.8k

-> Warnings: pervy doods, blood(?), descriptions of sexual assault

-> Taglist:@5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

A hand slipped over her mouth and Y/n instantly thought of the germs and squeezed her lips together.

“Don’t move, princess. They’ve come for you. Those fuckers sold you out to the breeders. Or it was that old bitch. You should know better than to trade with the first person who talks to you. You bush people are stupid.” Her bright white smile flashed in the darkness. “Don’t look so scared, I have a way out.”

Y/n nodded as the lady pulled her hand away from her face. The lady held her hand out and Y/n fished a ruby ring out of her sports bra and put it in the lady’s hand. She turned her back on Y/n and walked to a closet.

She opened the door and Y/n followed, holding her sack close to her chest. The lady pulled on the rod for hanging clothes in the closet, which made the wall pop out. She pushed it inside and walked into the wall. She entered the darkness and Y/n put her hands out. She heard voices coming to the room and she quickly closed the wall behind them.

She felt the lady’s hand grip hers suddenly. Y/n wanted to scream but she didn't. Her pulse was vibrating throughout her body.

Words were whispered into the darkness.

“Stairs.” Y/n put her feet down to the next level slowly. They could hear men’s voices above her.

“What the fuck is this?” The men sounded like they were right on top of her.

“She was here.”

Y/n heard the old woman’s voice. She felt cheated and betrayed. For trade she would sell Y/n out. Sell her out to the farms. Y/n knew humanity was a disgusting disappointment, but she still had a hard time imagining a woman turning in another woman to the farms.

“She was here, please. Let him just come home for a few days.”

Y/n continued down the stairs, feeling each step with the tips of her boots. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time they reached the bottom. The voices were gone and what replaced them was a dripping sound and damp cold air. The kind that could only be found underground.

“This was your house wasn’t it?” Y/n whispered.

“Yup. My husband had this installed when we built the house. He worked for the CIA.” Y/n felt her grip her hand again and pull her. “The ground is flat. We have to hurry.”

Y/n was stunned at the fact that no one knew about her underground bunker. But not as stunned as she was about her willingly helping Y/n escape.

“You could’ve sold me to them.” Y/n felt the lady’s fingers grip hers. Her voiced had changed.

“They have no right. No right to do what they’re doing.” The lady’s finger bit into Y/n’s shoulders as she shook her. “You gotta hurry. Don’t come back here. The girls get taken. The hunters are dressed up as traders but they’re not. Run. Feel your fingers along the wall until you see the light in the ceiling. Climb up there. It’s a latch. I have to get back now.”

Before Y/n could thank her the lady was gone. She was alone in the dark.

The fear was crippling her. She reached a trembling hand out into the darkness. Cold hard stone met her somewhere in the dark. She ran her fingers along it, running as best as she could. She was scared. She hated being scared. She decided that she needed a rule about being scared and doing things that made her scared.

She saw the ring of light up ahead. It had cast a dull beam in the shape of a circle on the floor. The morning sun was rising. She had slept later than she thought she would have. She should’ve been halfway home by the time the sun came up.

She felt like she was stepping into a magical light, like in the movies she had watched with her grandmother. The dark of the bunker was held at bay by the tiny ring of light. Dust particles sparkled inside of the ring. She reached her hands through it, watching as she made the dust dance in the light.

She looked up at the ring of light and then put her hand out at the small ladder she could see. She climbed until her head was at the wooden hatch. She listened to the silence. Nothing made a sound. She didn’t want to open the hatch. She wanted to hide in the dark of the bunker and never come out.

She heard a whisper in the wind. It was a sound she would know anywhere. It wasn’t close to her location, but it hurt her just the same. It could’ve been her.

She took a breath and put her hand on the bottom of the hatch. She tried to calm the shaking but she couldn’t. She pushed on the hatch and light flooded the small space even though the crack was tiny. The sun hadn’t completely risen, just as the moon hadn’t fully set. It was dawn.

She saw greenery everywhere around the hatch. Moss and brush surrounded her. She didn’t see anything but the sounds of the screams had filled the air. The animals made no noise, as the people had taken over the space with their screams again.

“Please! Please! Stop, please! I have money!” Her voice scared Y/n. The desperation frightened her. She had never been that desperate but she knew she had it in her. “Please sir, please! Don’t you have a sister or a wife you would want to keep safe?! Please! I’ll let you do whatever you want just don’t take me! Don’t take me back there! I’ll die in there!”

Y/n wanted to rock back and forth on the ground. She wished they would just kill her already so she would shut up. She was frozen. She didn’t leave the bunker but she didn’t close the lid either.

She knew she was in danger. She took a deep breath. She thought of Hades and Kirishima. She thought of poor Mina alone and taking care of Kirishima. She felt bravery, or stupidity, for the smallest of seconds and pulled herself out of the bunker and slid along the moss and brush. She made very little noise but every movement or rustle felt as loud as a gunshot. She crept along the ground on her hands and feet like Hades did. She moved away from the town. She didn’t know where she was but she was scared.

She got to a crowded bunch of trees and bushes and decided she needed to risk it and stand. She needed her bearings. She took another deep breath and slid her body up along the side of a tree. She tried to blend in. Hoards of people had gathered in the street in front of the town. Y/n could see the field and the cement road. She knew she was on the right side.

Women and children were being loaded into trucks. They sobbed and reached for their loved ones. One girl looked about thirteen. Y/n felt anger welling inside of her. There were four guards from the gates and five other men milling around the trucks. The tenth man was inside the cab of the truck.

Her brain was screaming at her to help the girl. She was a kid but that wouldn’t stop them. The sweaty men who took turns. She closed her eyes and shook her head to rearrange her thoughts.

She turned her back on them. She ran away like the coward she was. She ran until she found the broken branches. She used them to lead herself back to her weapon stash. She breathed easier when her bow was back in her hand and she could just kiss her knife. She tucked it into her boot and started the run back to her house. She ran faster than she did the day before. She ran with a new fear.

Xxxx

She reached the house in the middle of the night and saw Hades' eyes. He stalked toward her and sniffed her everywhere. He was checking to make sure she was okay. When she bent her knee to kiss him, she started to sob. He had seen that before. He knew sometimes she just needed to get it out.

“Y/n?” She looked up to see Mina pointing a gun at her. Y/n smiled and held up her sack and Mina lowered the gun. “You okay?”

“No, but it’s not anything new. How is he?” Y/n could see the grim look on Mina’s face in the moonlight and her stomach sank. She wanted to panic and cry out.

“He’s fading fast. I was about to cut his leg off when I heard you.”

Y/n sighed and broke into a run and bursted through the farm door, something she’d never done before. She pulled the needle out of the sack with one of the vials as she kneeled before Kirishima. His red hair was matted against his face and Y/n could see where his black roots were growing in from the lack of dye. She could see the moisture in the moonlight.

Mina poured the vodka she found in one of the cupboards all over Y/n’s hands and the needles and vial. The liquor was splashing all over her. She held the bottle up to Y/n’s lips and it burned its way down her empty stomach. The bits of food she had eaten were long gone. Thank god. Mina wiped his arm and Y/n finished putting the vial together and stabbed him in the arm. She pushed it in slowly like her dad had showed her. Kirishima didn’t stir. He didn’t register that Y/n was pumping his arm full of antibiotics.

She pulled the bandages off his wounds. The red lines were everywhere and she swallowed hard. Mina put the vodka back to Y/n’s lips and she drank again. She poured the tea tree all over the wound and blade of her knife. She sliced into the swollen part of the injury and milked the puss from it. She poured more tea tree after, being careful as to not rupture the blood vessels and cause more infection. When it was clean again and there was no more puss she smothered it in the old tube of medical salve. She covered it again with a gauze bandage and tape.

His fever was still high and he licked his lips and looked down at Y/n with blood shot eyes.

“You made it back.” Y/n nodded, his expression was breaking her heart. He looked so weak. He reached a hand to hers and squeezed. “I was worried.”

“I can take care of myself.” Y/n didn’t even let the bizarre day she had cross her mind. It was not the time to stress him out.

“I don’t doubt that, you scare me.”

Y/n laughed. She couldn’t help herself. He was huge and no doubt strong, stronger than he knew. Stronger than Y/n. She tried not to think about the young girls in the truck. She was a coward.

“I’m goin’ back to watching.” Mina was gone and suddenly Kirishima and Y/n were alone. She felt funny about it.

Kirishima pulled her up onto the couch, “Come lay with me.” It was the first human contact Y/n had had in a while. Watching t.v with friends was the closest thing to cuddling she had ever experienced. She didn’t know what to do and went limp. Kirishima laughed and pulled her alongside him on the couch. His arm was burning hot, it felt amazing. He wrapped his arm around her and she shivered from the heat.”

“Tell me a story Y/n.”

Y/n paused, she didn’t have any. She wanted to tell him something fun about her childhood but it basically looked just like her life now, but with more showering.

“I went to the town once a long time ago. The infection was newer then. I ran through the woods and broke the branches to make a path for myself to find the farmhouse again. Just like my dad taught me. I was excited when I saw the gates. I was so stupid. I thought being with other survivors would be better for me. I went in and begged for food from a lady. She laughed at me.” Y/n felt her air getting trapped in her throat. The shame filling her was her punishment. She deserved it. “I went out her door and sat in the narrow alley near the back of the house. I was hidden by a bunch of old buckets and garbage. The lady and her daughter were walking around the back with bags of stuff. Some men came. They started tearing at them. They stripped them and hurt them.” Y/n choked slightly on her next sentence, “I ran into the store and stole as much food as I could carry. I ran and gorged myself in the back of her store. I could still hear her screaming and I did nothing. I just ate.”

Kirishima squeezed her and kissed the top of her forehead. She stared into his black t-shirt that was soaked with sweat.

“You’re kinda bad at storytelling. I sorta wanted to go to sleep. Now I think I’ll never sleep again.” Y/n laughed with him. It killed the moment of suffering she deserved. He kissed her forehead again, “Do you have anything lighter? I don’t want that to be the last thing I think about when I die.” Y/n laughed again, but this time she wanted to cry. He was dying and Y/n knew this. Instead of her leaving him, he was leaving her and it hurt.

“I have one memory of my mother. She was in the hospital bed. I was two years old. She looked like me, but she was really pretty. Her lip looked like she was pushing them out.”

“Duck lips.”

“What?”

He laughed, “They were called duck lips back then.”

“Oh. Well she had those. She was in the bed and she let me climb up with her. I sat on her lap and we watched t.v. It was a cartoon about a bald kid and his family.”

“Caillou. I loved that show. LOVE IT.” He spoke in a high pitched voice. It made Y/n smile, he remembered things so clearly. He nudged her, “What happened then?”

Y/n shook her head, “Nothing. We just sat in the sun on her bed. I remember how soft her nightgown was and she let me eat her pudding.”

“Yeah okay that’s another bad example of storytelling.” Y/n wanted to defend herself, but she knew it would only make him feel sorry for her.

He smiled, “Once when I was six, me and Bakugo went and played down by the river behind my house. His mom was really strict about it and never let us go down there. We figured because Bakugo was old enough to babysit we were good. We brought boats we made out of paper and put them on the water.. They floated perfectly until mine flipped over. I reached for it before it got too far away and of course fell in. Bakugo grabbed me before I got pulled away. I would have drowned for sure. We ran back to my house but we were too long getting back and his mom was there already. We snuck in the backyard. I thought we were dead but Bakugo grabbed the hose from the side of the house and sprayed me. His mom came out the back door at that moment. So she walks to the backyard to see Bakugo hosing and me screaming. He got grounded for a week for being a bully. He was the best friend ever.”

A weird feeling overtook the other feelings Y/n had. She was jealous that she didn’t have a single story like that one. She looked into his eyes and felt lost. She felt like she was part of them.

“Now that’s a story, jackass.” Y/n frowned at him. He lifted her chin and pressed his warm lips to hers. She loved it. She loved him. His warmth rushed through her. His lips parted hers and his tongue caressed her lips softly. He pulled back but she wanted more and watched his laps as he pulled away. “You’re supposed to close your eyes Y/n.”

She blushed, “I liked that.”

He laughed softly, “It was on my list of things to do before I die.” His words stung.

“You haven’t kissed a girl before?”

He shook his head, “Not a girl I really like.”

“Your fever is making you crazy.”

“Good.” He pulled her close and kissed her until she was dizzy.

--

haha cliffhanger go brrrr

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Cassell Cynic Part 2

A continuation of @hectabdr @hectab‘s lovely characters.

When Nathan lay back on the bench, Hana’s face filled with furious determination.

Nathan protested loudly as she stomped his feet, seized his arm in a mighty heave and lifted him across the back of her shoulders. Her strong arm was wrapped around his leg and other her hand gripped his wrist. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly secured. “What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“I’m not going to let you make me fail this assignment!” She grunted roughly and stomped off toward the medieval looking administrators building.

Nathan used his free arm to pull his ear buds out. “Are you kidnapping me? Go die by yourself!”

“You think you’re going to die?”

“Of course I’m going to die if I go on assignment with you!” He struggled futilely against her iron-like grip. “Let go! You’re ruining my day!”

“When the dragons come back, they’ll do more than ruin your day. Or do you not know that because you don’t care to study?”

“I know that and that’s why I don’t bother! It’s obvious that someone else is going to do it, why should I care about it?”

“Because we …” She puffed, staggering with her struggling captive. “You're heavier than you look.... We all have a role to play. No one is going to slay the dragons alone! When the chips are down everyone needs to think about what they can do to make sure the dragons don’t win!”

“If I face a dragon, I’ll bow down and say ‘I welcome my new scaly overlords!’” He hollered loud enough for anyone in the courtyard to hear.

She stopped. Her face turned to him in horror. “You don’t mean that. Surely.”

His face was full of indignation. “And even if I don’t, so what? I just hope they don’t eat me and I live another day because I’m not slaying any god-damn dragon and chances are, neither are you! Now put me down!”

“Don’t put me in the same league as you, you coward…”

“I’m a coward? You’re a coward!” He turned to look at her over her shoulder. “You’re so scared of getting something less than an A+ that you’re kidnapping me! That’s what this is about. Don’t give me that Dragon War spiel. You’re more scared of your report card than a dragon. Am I right or am I right? Exactly. If this assignment was about dragonslaying, I wouldn’t be on it, being C ranked… No one’s going to put the world in my hands! Put me down!” 

She finally lowered him from her shoulders and he brushed himself off and smoothed down his hair. He turned to look up at her. “Thank you!”

She gave him a stern look, lips pursed. “You’re really serious… about not doing anything.”

“Yeah! I am serious! Thank you for finally acknowledging that!” He stepped around her to return to his bench.

“So you weren’t put up here to sabotage me?” She asked.

“I am not doing this to sabotage you. No. But someone might be. You do what you need to do if your grades are that important to you, but leave me out of it. I don’t need grades to stay here.” Nathan turned fully around and walked backwards towards the bench. “Contrary to your belief, your assignment is not the end of the world and, if it was really that important, they will find someone else to do it!”

He sat back on the bench, groaning in dismay as he picked up his ruined blunt where he’d dropped it.  “If I have to be on your assignment for you to pass then you might as well stay here on the bench! Because I’m not going. Period. You’ll have to deal with the smudge on your record. Though… knowing you, you’ll suplex them until they give you a make up assignment to erase the quote-unquote bad grade, so your parents don’t call you and cuss you out. If you do kidnap me, though, I’ll definitely make sure you fail, you psycho!” He rotated his shoulder. “That hurt, you know.”

Hana stayed where she was and helplessly watched him as he sat back down at the bench. “You’re really not coming. You’re not going to help me at all?”

Nathan didn’t respond. He rolled another blunt and lit it in silence. He could tell she wasn’t giving up, she was just changing strategy. She was drunk on the whole Dragonslaying mission Kool-Aid. He could feel his buzz actively dying as she approached him and sat back down. He passed it to her and she refused. But he insisted. “Take it, you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t smoke.” 

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He inhaled slowly. The skunky smell of the marijuana filled the air. “You shouldn’t care so much.”

“I do care but it's because this is what comes natural to me. I’m strong and talented and I can do the things they need me to do. My talents will be wasted elsewhere. No one’s putting pressure on me. This is who I am and what I do best. So why not excel at it?”

He coughed on a rough pull. He was genuinely shocked. “No? You don’t have some mommy and daddy at home who will be disappointed if you get a B?” He asked, scoffing at her. “You don’t care at all if you ‘fail your ancestors’ or something?”

“No.” She said firmly. “I don’t. I didn’t come from a prestigious family or a famous bloodline. I don’t even know who my father is. Unlike you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m self motivated and good at what I do. A few of the professors were thinking of putting me on a track to become faculty. They said I have to learn how to be an earnest guide. They wanted me to take you on an assignment and walk you through it.”

“Really? ...damn.” Nathan shut his mouth for once, scratching his head. “I’d pegged you as one of those trust fund babies.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I’m not. Like I said, I don’t care for them. They’re just coasting on their parent’s allowance and pretending to be better than everyone else. Kinda like you. At least you’re a trust fund baby who has their head in reality.” She grinned but there was no humor in it.

Nathan couldn’t argue that. “So uh… what’s this assignment?”

“I just have to accompany some cargo to the airport. But it’s sensitive cargo. So we just need to guard it.”

“Ah ha!” He tilted his head back. “So solve one problem with another. Very clever. You know what I think? I think my lack of urgency pisses them off so bad that they would do anything to get me to care even a little bit. And if they can’t get me to do anything, then they can get me off campus so they don’t have to look at me. They don’t need me here. It’s all head games. So I’ll play their head game.”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.

He pointed to the blunt in his hand. “What I mean is, this weed is going to give me the munchies. So, I’ll go ahead and put in a big order from the canteen. What do you like?” He pulled his cellphone from his pocket.

“I guess. Italian… pasta. I like Greek Food?” She said.

“Pasta and Gyros… sounds good to me.” He typed to put in the order.

“Are you ordering food for me?” She peered at his phone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Nathan turned to her. “Wow… you really don’t have any friends.”

“You don’t either!” She snarled.

“I did before I came here. And I will when I leave here. You on the other hand… good luck on your ‘Hero’s Journey’. Heh.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much.” She stretched her legs in front of her and looked at the sky.

Nathan continued his lengthy order. “I don’t hate it here. I can live here, eat good food, and do nothing. Duh. It’s like the best vacation ever. It just sucks that by the end I won’t get to remember any of it. It’s like an alternate dimension. I just want them to give me good memories. Like I did something awesome. That’s all.” He waved his book of false memory ideas.

“You’re going to let them erase your memory?” Hana lowered  her voice, partly shocked, partly amazed.

“Yep. Here I’m no better than a regular human. So I might as well live like one. Order will be ready in 45 minutes.” He put his phone in his pocket.

“Why not split the difference? Do just enough to participate and stick around. That’s what Fingel does.” She wondered.

“Oh ho... Not just Fingel. Isn’t that what everyone else does? I look at everyone around me and… you’re  the first person I’ve met here who actually believes all this is for saving the world. That’s cool. You want to be here for that. But that’s why the other people get on your nerves. You can tell they’re faking it, and you’re not about the BS.”

Hana fell into a thoughtful silence.

“Which is why they sent you to talk to me probably.” He lowered his blunt. “It’s not that I don’t care that dragons are big and scary, it’s just I know I can’t do anything, just like 90% of the people here… so…” He shrugged. “There’s going to be maybe… what … 10 or 12 people actually fighting dragons? The rest? They’re just in it for the social points. And I’m not interested in social points.”

“What are you interested in?” She asked.

“Enjoying life while I have it.” He sat back and blew out a long plume of smoke.

Hana sat with him and stared out into the empty courtyards. On the peak of a gabled roof, a mockingbird was singing its heart out and doing acrobatic leaps in the air as it did so. Hana pursed her lips and tapped her feet. “If you could… please do this one assignment for me. I won’t ask again. I’m backed into a corner here and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Nathan sighed loudly. “You could always do nothing, Hana. Just say, ‘He’s not coming, figure something out.’ I don’t want to get in your way, but I’m not going to let them play the pity card either. We’re all adults here. Don’t ask me to play their game. And it is a game.” He looked at her with wide eyes, waving his blunt. “If this assignment is really important, they’ll find someone else. The assignment isn’t the real issue here. This has nothing to do with your grade. I guarantee it has everything to do with their ego. They’re just like my parents. They’re just like my brother. Trying to make me care about their shit and I don’t. And that pisses them off.”

“You’re… pretty defensive right now.” She laughed.

He laughed in disbelief. He was getting pretty riled up about all this. “I want them off my back! I don’t understand why they need the C-ranker to be on board with their war games.”

Hana smiled disarmingly. “I for one… appreciate your honesty. You’re not so bad. I can’t be the only one who feels that you’re not so bad either. I think I’m here because they want to keep you around.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Tch… Yeah good luck to them.”

 Hana pushed off the bench. “Alright. I’ll ask them to pair me with someone else or… do something else about it. Nice talkin’ to you.”

“Hey, don’t forget. Food’s gonna be here in 40 minutes.” He shouted after her.

“Alrighty!”

[im-a-simp1]

Star Wars Companion: Part 3

Pairing: Y/n x Peter Parker

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cussing, angst, fluff, mention of death

Summary: Y/n goes to Peter’s place after the attempted robbery which leaves him wondering why she didn’t just go home but later finds out why.

Masterlist

Y/n POV

Police had done their rounds of asking people in the store what had happened. I was one of the first few that got questioned. I was still shaken up about what just happened. Not only did I just almost die but also the fact that Spiderman knew my name. How did he know my name? As the police were finishing up their questions they asked if there was someone they could call to pick me up and I told them there is no need I am fine walking. I just didn’t want to worry my mom when there is nothing to worry about. Especially now that I am alive and well. After they said we could leave I had gotten the snacks I had purchased and headed to Peter’s place. I knew if I went home that I would be alone and right now I don’t want to be alone because I know the moment I am alone I am going to breakdown. So I continued to head to Peter’s apartment knowing he was going to be waiting for me. I looked at my phone and it was 8:10. Shoot I’m like 20 min out from his apartment. I started to fast walk down the street. As I fast walked down the street I couldn't stop thinking about Spiderman. Was he someone I know that’s been right under my nose with me not realizing it?

Peter POV

“Shit” he mumbled as he was sitting on top of a building.

“I can’t believe I said her name out loud” he got up and paced about the situation at hand. Talking out loud has always helped calm down and figure out solutions.

“I don’t think she realizes it’s me, I mean I don’t know if she recognized my voice? She was freaking out so her mind was probably not focused on my voice And it’s not like I said my name out loud. Oh okay I pretty sure my cover isn’t blown so I think I’m good” he started to take deep breaths. He was calm now and now he could concentrate. He looks down at the city and sees a woman walking faster then normal which he thought it was normal for New York City, people were always in a hurry. But then recognized the Y/h/l Y/h/c and the outfit that he just saw not too long ago.

“Is she heading to my apartment?” He says recognizing the route that he usually takes when he goes home. Once she takes a left he knew that she was heading to his place.

“What is she doing? She was just being held hostage and she is still coming over? She needs to get rest”. He came up with a quick idea that he thought at top of his head to text her that he wasn’t feeling well and that he can’t do it tonight. But then he realized that one, it would seem fishy that he was sending this message when they were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago and two, if she was really wanting to be alone right now she would have just gone home and texted him that she couldn’t make it.

“Well, I got to get there sooner than later” as he started to swing from building to building getting to his apartment as fast as he could.

Y/n POV

Once I finally found the right apartment (after knocking on some wrong doors because I have always been horrible at directions). I knock on the door and I hear a lady who seems to be in her late 20s to early 30s shout at the door.

“Did you forget you key again Peter?” Wait Peter isn’t here?

“Um sorry I’m not Peter…” I semi-shouted to make sure she heard me. I hear a silent “shit” as the woman makes her way to the door and opens it. I should be on the price is right because I was right about her age. She was this beautiful long hair brunette with great complexion and a smile that totally reminded me of Peter.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about that I thought you were my nephew”

“It’s okay, I’m Y/n I’m actually Peter’s friend. Does he lose his key all the time?” I say as I start to chuckle

“Nice to meet you Y/n I’m Peter’s Aunt May but you can just call me May and yes he does, all the time”

“Sounds like Peter” we both laughed.

“But um, is Peter not here? We were going to watch Star Wars and I’m actually late so I thought he would be here”

“Actually he is not-“

“I’M HERE!!” Peter comes out heavily panting. Why was he panting so hard?

“When did you get home? I didn’t see you come in” May had asked him.

“What do you mean I have been here since school got out”

“Was I sleeping or something because I don’t remember you coming in”

“Yeah um I pretty sure you were Aunt May”

“Oh well then sorry I missed you coming in, if I had known I would have made you dinner”

“It’s alright, I haven’t been too hungry. But anyway but is it okay if Y/n and I are going to watch Star Wars in my room?”

“Yeah just keep the door up!”

“Sweet thanks Aunt May” he says as he grabs my hand to lead me to what I assume is his room. I tried to hide my red face after entering his room.

“Are you okay? Your face is a little red” he asked as he was grabbing the snacks from my hand to set them down. “Oh Watermelon Sour Patch my favorite.” Spiderman made the right call on the snack.

“Oh yeah I’m good thanks for asking though” I said after a moment of realizing I haven’t answered him.

“Really are you sure? I mean you look a little shaken up is everything okay?” As he puts in the Phantom Menace. Even though it’s not my favorite one we got to start somewhere. It was weird though that Peter was pressing on if I was okay. Did he know something happened? Or can he just read me like a book?

“Well I uh mean I’m fine now but there was attempted robbery at the convenience store I was at.” trying to say it nonchalantly but there was a little bit of shakiness to my voice that sounded like it was quivering.

“Oh my god? Are you okay? Did you get injured? What happened?” He asked, I could hear the worriedness come out of his voice. He was on the edge of freaking out.

“Peter it’s okay” as I set my hands on top of his hands so that he could calm down. I had explained to him about how the robber had held me hostage and I thought I was going to die but Spiderman showed up and how he saved my life.

“Oh wow, I’m just Spiderman was there to save you”

“Yeah me too”

“But Y/n please don’t take any offense to this but, after all you have gone through, why are you here? Like I would have totally understood if you wanted to go home after that”.

I looked down real fast wondering if I should tell him why.

“Because I wanted to watch Star Wars! Now come on, let’s watch the movie”. I said changing the subject.

“Yeah, sounds great” he said with a little disappointment in his voice. I know he was upset that I didn’t say but I appreciate him not pressing it. I pulled out my Star Wars blanket out of my bag and had shared it with Peter.

“Woah, didn’t realize you like Star Wars this much” as he pointed out Chewy, Han, and the Millennial Falcon.

“Yep! I always have this blanket with me when I watch the Star Wars movies, my father gave it to me when I was about 10 years old”

“Well I think I have to have one now” as he yanks the blanket to have all by himself.

“Ya now wait a minute, that’s mine get your own” as I about tackle him. We wrestle for the blanket for a little bit till I gave up. I didn’t realize how strong he was.

“I’m waving my white flag, I surrender” I say as I lay on the ground breathing heavily.

“Ah I win! But since I like you I will share the blanket” I froze, realizing what he just said. I sit up to look at him in the eyes.

“You like me?”

“Uh well um I- I ah” he says as he is flustered. He coughs and takes a deep breath and looks at me in the eyes “Y-yes I do-o” he says as he is not sure what I am going to say.

“Well that’s good cause I like you too” I reassured him. He turned a worried look to a smile real fast.

“Well that great to hear as well” he states “Shall we continue the movie”

“We shall” I replied as we turned to the tv, leaning on the side of his bed as he wraps his arm around me.I leaned my head in his shoulders. In this moment, everything was almost right where we needed to be. Almost.

Peter POV

As we were watching the movie I couldn’t focus on the movie because I was so happy and anxious. I just admitted to liking her and she admitted to liking me to. I couldn’t stop thinking about where this could go. She has always been unpredictable in a fun way and I can’t wait to see what’s in store. I was also still wondering why she didn’t just go home but it seemed like there was more to the story then she let on so I just left it where it was. If she was ready she would tell me. Even though My Spidey senses could tell me her heart was pacing very fast.

Y/n POV

As much as I was trying to focus on the movie and focus on Peter, my mind kept going back to the convenience store, when the robber was holding the gun to my head. It just made me relive what I’m sure what my dad went through and all of my emotions towards that point in my life and what had happened today were starting to come back. My heart was racing and I just needed to talk about it. Even though before I said I wasn’t ready to tell Peter, I realized that Peter is someone who would just comfort me with what I’m going through.

“Do you know why I love Star Wars so much?” I asked him.

“Why?”

“It was one of my favorite things I did with my dad growing up. We would sit down and watched the movies together. He worked a lot but whenever we got to hangout boy would it be fun. Most of the time we would get in trouble with my mom because we would be close to breaking something or we did break something. But when we watched Star Wars together, it was the happiest moments that I had with my dad.”

“Had?”

“My dad died 4 years ago”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?”

“He died as a victim of a robbery, he was held hostage till the robber decided to put a bullet in his head”

“Oh y/n, oh my gosh. I can’t imagine what you are going through right now. Being in the same position as him”

“I thought I was going to die today. I thought I was going to die the same way that my father did. I wasn’t ready to die Peter, and I didn’t thank goodness for Spiderman but I was just thinking of all of the things I wanted to do and at the same time the memories of my father dying was too much for me to handle. You see, that is why I came over. I didn’t want to be alone because I knew if I was alone then I would break down and I wasn’t ready to break down yet, I wanted to be in your company to make sure someone was with me when I did. And I chose to be with you Peter because I knew if I do you would be able to comfort me.” As my final word came out I balled my eyes out. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I cried into his shoulder. I tried to be quiet so May couldn’t hear me but it wasn’t much use. I couldn’t stop crying, my emotions have finally taken over. As I’m in my breakdown, Peter holds me into his chest as he says comforting things in my head like “it’s okay let it out, no need to keep it in”, “you are amazing and strong” and “I got you”. Eventually I stopped crying and look up at him with my red puffy eyes.

“You know, if I wasn’t a mess right now and I didn’t just cry out my eyes, I would totally kiss you right now” as I chuckle at my words. He laughs too.

“It’s okay. How about this, we will put a rain check on that kiss?”

“Sounds like a plan” as I chuckled some more.

“Hey” Peter puts his finger under my chin making me look at him, “if you ever see those robbers ever again, let me know because I will kick their ass”

All of a sudden it dawned on me.

“Um Peter, I only mentioned one robber…”

-

-

-

I just want to say again thank you all for reading my series. I didn’t expect the amount of people that read, liked, and reblogged my story so I just want to say thank you. Idk if I will post a part 4 we will see. I have an idea but idk. Alright bye thanks again! 😙✌️

[stxvercgersslut]

If This Is Goodbye

Pairing: Nick Grant x Reader

Description: You and your boyfriend Nick’s ‘vacation’ was cut dramatically short when you are captured and tortured by Henry Carver. However, you weren’t expecting what happened next.

Warnings: I Guess you could label this as a dark oneshot. This ones full of Angst, mentions of death, character death, mentions of blood and language

Prompts: “You’re such a sore loser.” & "We're not done yet."

A/n: Well this is the first oneshot that I have written that has an angsty ending and doesn’t end all fluff like usual. I just wanted to have a change from my fluff that I write. I decided that this would be a great one to write for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 August writing challenge. Especially since there isn’t much time left. When it’s only dialogue Nick is in italics and y/n is normal.

A/n: this made me cry whilst I was writing it 🥺 but it was totally worth it since I actually adore the way this turned out.

After hours of interrogation you and Nick were still trapped in some god damn rotten hotel room, being tortured in ways that you’d actually strangely expected from someone like Henry. However, now it was just getting stupid. Currently, Nick was handcuffed against a fucking radiator. Yes that really was what the high and mighty Henry had decided to handcuff him to. Well there wasn’t exactly many other places to tie him to. Especially since they were in a hotel room. “We already told you we have no don’t have what you want!” Nick pressed through his now already hoarse voice, giving small little glances over in your direction every so often to ensure that you were ‘safe’. Not that anything about this particular situations at all screamed safe. Especially since you were laying on the floor beaten, bloody and bruised from one of Henry’s men beating the living shit out of you in attempt to get Nick to talk. And believe me..if he had known where whatever the Male was looking for was? Well he would have already told them by now. Seeing you quivering in pain would have been enough of a reason to spill the information that they needed. But unfortunately for the pair of you, this time you really were telling the truth. What ever it was that Henry and his men needed must have been important if it was worth kidnapping you and Nick in the middle of your ‘Vacation’. Well it wasn’t really a vacation, it was more of a get away in order to stay safe. No that that had worked out in either of your favours.

Henry laughed bitterly as he stepped closer to Nick, kneeling down so that he was now directly in front of your boyfriend. Oh this couldn’t be good. Especially since it was public knowledge that Henry was a very experienced and advanced Pusher. As long as he stayed out of your heads then everything would be fine. “Oh but the contrary Nick, I think you’re forgetting that we have a Watcher on our side and we already know that you were looking for the case. So where is it?” The stronger male spoke as he looked at Nick, staring him straight in the eyes like some sick and twisted confession.

“We don’t have the case!” This time it was you that spoke up, your voice audibly trembling due to how much pain you were in from the hours of torture that you’d endured. Oh you were desperately trying to sound stronger and more confident but it wasn’t like that could happen when all you wanted to do was curl up and cry. That just wasn’t like that normal you. In fact, the normal you was nothing like this. This was heart breaking for Nick. Hearing you sound so weak when he was used to hearing you laughing and enjoying life hurt him. It was so different to the way that you normally acted. “She’s telling them truth” Nick spoke, trying to keep himself calm as he thought for a few seconds, clearly trying to figure out a way to escape the torture and get you both to a hospital. Or at least to a drug store so he could steal the supplies you’d need to patch the both of you up.

It was a millisecond later that Nick was able to move the wardrobe that had been coincidentally right next to where he and you were being kept. The heavyweight of the object being enough of a distraction to give Nick just the amount of time that he needed to attempt to rip the handcuffs from him. But in actuality he had only managed to tear himself away from the radiator by practically ripping it off of its hinges, not that he cared right now. No all he cared about at this particular moment was getting out of here with you.

However, his master plan was prevented when a blood curdling scream, of course coming from a Bleeder, ripped through the room. Causing both You and your boyfriend to double over in pain, both holding your ears in an attempt to shield yourselves from the ear piercing sound. Pathetic really since now both of you were screaming in agony. “I thought you were smarter then that Nick. But it seems like you’re such a sore loser” Henry spoke with a slight sigh, almost as if he was disappointed by how everything g had played out. And To be completely honest you were disappointed too. Not with Nick, but with how your small get away had turned out.

After just a couple of seconds your ears had began to bleed quite severely, but right now it didn’t seem to be anything too critical. Not enough to kill you just yet, although if he continued to scream then you were 100% certain that you’d die soon. However, Nick seemed to be worse off since he was barely awake. Struggling to even keep him eyes open. But what was even worse then seeing your own boyfriend being brutally murdered in front of you was the fact that when he finally managed to make eye contact with you you could see the desperate pain in his eyes. Almost as if he was trying to stay strong just for you. Everything he did was always for you there was no doubt about it.

At this point it was only a matter of seconds before you would die. You’d pretty much come to the terms with the fact that you were going to die today...but then....silence. Had you gone deaf? Had you finally died? Or was the pain too much that you had just passed out? All of those questions had continued to swim through your brain, totally convinced that it was over until you fell a sharp pain run through you body as you were yanked from the floor by two extremely cold hands. The action in itself enough to make you yelp in pain.

In seeing this Nick saw red, or maybe that was just from how much blood was pouring from his ears and blurring his vision. But seeing you so helpless and weak really did hit a nerve. “Get...The...fuck off of her! Don’t kill her! It’s me you’ve got the problem with not her! Kill me instead” He stuttered out demandingly although Henry only laughed bitterly in response, this man was cold and calculating whenever it came to getting what he wanted and if it meant murdering you to get answers out of Nick then he would do it in a heart beat. Which was exactly what he was proposing to do.

“Oh Nick you really don’t know when to shut up do you?” The Male spoke bitterly as he silently gave instructions to the man holding onto your hair, ending up with the male pressing his hand around your throat and pressing his gun against your back. Of course this scared the crap out of you but by this point you had already given up on life. “We're not done yet! Now Nick, tell me where the case is or your I’ll tell my friend over there to pull the trigger” Henry threatened, letting nick watch you struggle for breath with that son of a bitches hand wrapped round your throat, before his gaze was violently ripped away from you when Henry grabbed at his face to pull his gaze back to him. None of this was at all good.

“Nick! It’s okay...don’t tell him...please” you begged, barely able to string a sentence together with how hard the males grip was on your throat. Blood still pouring from your ears. If you weren’t shot then the loss of blood from the pervious screaming you’d endured would certainly kill you.

“I’m not gonna let you die y-“

“Y-y—you......don’t have.....any....other choice”

“I’m not letting you die!” Nick spoke before taking in a deep breath, barely keeping himself steady before Henry’s voice boomed through the room “you’ve got three seconds to tell me where the case is before y/n gets shot” he threatened. Oh and Nick was just about to tell him who had the case before you stopped him once again

“Nick dont!” You spoke more confidentially, trying to keep his focus on you for the three second count down. Only realising that the count down was over when pain rippled through your body, Nick basically bolting over to you as you fell limp to the floor. For now you were breathing but not for long.

“It’s a shame Nick, I would have thought you’d want to comply with us.” was the last thing Henry had said before both him and his men left the room, leaving Nick alone with you now settled with your upper half in his lap. Little did you know that Henry and his men had actually managed to get the information they needed soon after they’d left. You didn’t need to die but somehow there you were, shaking uncontrollably in your boyfriends arms.

“I told...you I wasn’t going to let you die ..” Nick pressed whilst running his hands through your hair, tears runningdown his face as he stared down at you. There was no reason to get help, especially when you’d already gone so pale. All he could do now was hold you till you passed away. Not that he wanted that to happen of course.

“C...couldnt......l...let them get....what they wanted” your voice was little over a whisper now as your skin began to pale and your eyes began uncomfortably heavy just begging to close. But, like Nick tried to do for you, you held on. Only for him.

“You’re so damn stubborn sometimes”

“I......I.....l...love you”

“Y/n don’t do that....don’t say that...help must be on its way....you’re going to be okay...I love you’d o much but you can’t say that right now...please don’t say that like it’s the last time you’re going to say it...because it’s not okay? It’s not...you’re going to grow old with me and we’re going to have two kids just like we wanted. You are not going to die!” Nick spoke overly emotional due to the situation in front of him. As much as he wanted to believe that you were going to survive this, he knew far two well that you were going to die.

“I...l...love...y-“ the words couldn’t even leave your lips fully as your heart began to slow at a horrifically quick pace, leaving you lifeless in your lovers arms as you finally passed away. To say Nick was heart broken would have been an understatement. In fact he was broken. Totally and utterly broken without you. Without his best girl to lead him through life what was he going to do? He couldn’t live without you yet god was forcing him to. How far was that?

Without a second thought, Nick picked your limp and lifeless body up off of the floor and placed it ever so gently onto the messy bed a few steps away. Even if you were dead he still didn’t like the thought of you laying on the cold hardwood floor. “I love you y/n” were the last words that he spoke to you before a loud knock on the door followed by the door being smashed open by armed forces broke him out of his emotional state.

In that moment nick had no idea what the hell had gotten into him as he lunged forward. Of course being terribly mistaken for a threat landing him with several bullet wounds to the chest sending him straight to the floor. Had he wanted to die? Was that the plan after all? Well without the love of his life with him what was there to live for? In some twisted way he was happy to die close to you.

With what little remaining strength he had left Nick pushed himself up onto the bed as he pulled your body close to him. If he was going to die then he was going to die with you laying next to him. “I’ll.....I’ll see you soon y/n.....w.....we’ll be together....again soon...” the mover stuttered as he weakly pressed a kiss to your barely warm forehead before his body too went limp and he ‘peacefully’ drifted off into a permanent slumber. And sure enough he was reunited with his love on the other side. Both of you finally at peace.

Tag list: @cevans-fics @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @chuckbass-love

[drawlfoy]

Undertones

masterlist request guidelines please feed my inbox. she’s starving. requests are more open than ever!

pairing: draco x nonslytherin!reader

request: yes! thank you anon!

summary: non slytherin reader offers draco her scarf when she realizes he’s cold. he secretly wants to accept but he’s too afraid to ruin his reputation.

warnings: fluff idk. maybe foul language because *that’s me* but i write warnings before i write fics and i cannot foresee this going anywhere dirty

a/n: i’ve made spaghetti how many times? too many times. and yet every time i misjudge the amount of pasta sauce i need to heat up to match the amount of pasta. every single time. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i can never fix this problem. i’m sorry this is random but i don’t think many people actually read this part so i’m kind of going off. the pasta is good  tho, i’m eating it right now. reply with “pasta” down below if you actually read this

music recs: shoot i’ve been listening to alvvays tbh

also, last thing: Y/H/N means your house name, Y/H/C means your house color(s) :) also O/H means other house... as in not your house or slytherin!!

word count: 1,435

The wind was howling outside, cold and biting, as Y/N settled into the bench next to her “friend”, Draco Malfoy.

They’d only begun to be civil to each other that year after they’d been forced together in potions. At first, it had been horrible, but eventually, Y/N and Draco came to a truce. The merciless teasing about her house ceased and Y/N stopped reminding him how much she hated him every day. 

And then there was Quidditch. You were both big fans of getting high marks in potions, but you were both even bigger fans of the game. Y/N was unfortunately rendered unable to play in 4th year, after a particular nasty crash messed up her leg, She was perfectly capable of attending games, however, and she was especially supportive of the Y/H/N team. 

This particular Saturday, Y/H/N was playing O/H. It was the first time this year that Slytherin wasn’t playing, so Y/N had thought it appropriate to invite Draco along with her.

She was beginning to regret her decision as she watched the blond boy sitting next to her complain.

“Why does it have to be so cold out?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Draco,” Y/N shot back. “It’s wintertime, maybe that plays a role?”

He huffed and dug his hands into his cloak pockets.

“Y/N, please at least let me feel sorry for myself in silence.” He pouted, pulling his hands out of his pockets and blowing on them. “I never should’ve come. It’s too cold out for this.”

Y/N’s heart stung a little at this comment. They both loved Quidditch, and sometimes it was all they talked about. She was cold too, but the love for the sport kept her glued to the spot. 

“Didn’t think you were such a wuss,” she grumbled, pulling her own down jacket tightly around her body. She’d abandoned their uniforms and had instead opted for her muggle winter gear--except for her Y/H/N scarf, which was pulled tightly around her neck. 

“I prefer realist,” he shot back. Draco’s voice wavered just a slight bit, and Y/N cast him another glance. She was shocked to see that he was actually shivering. 

“I’m cold too, Draco,” she retorted “But for some reason, I’m still here.”

No response was returned. Instead, comfortable silence between them rested as the yells of the other onlookers pulled her attention away from Draco. 

After the first 45 minutes, Y/N felt positively chilled. A quick glance at Draco confirmed that she was not alone in this feeling. Both were ill dressed for the occasion.

“Hey,” she began, inching a little closer to her potions partner, “Do you want my scarf?” 

Draco turned to look at her, eyeing her neck. He looked like, for a second, he was considering it.

“No,” he finally told her. “You need it more than me.”

“What do you mean, Draco?” Her voice cracked slightly from the cold air rushing into her mouth. “You’re just wearing a cloak. I have a full coat.”

“And you’re still shivering!”

“So are you!”

At this point, neither of them were paying any mind to the game in front of them. 

“Even if I was...cold,” Draco told her, his teeth chattering comically, “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Y/H/N scarf. Y/H/C doesn’t suit my pink undertones.”

“Oh. My. God.” Y/N rolled her eyes so hard they nearly reached the back of her head. “You are such a diva. Do you know how many people die during the winter from hypothermia? And you’re out here, refusing a scarf because it doesn’t compliment your undertones?”

“You know that’s not the real reason, dimwit,” he told her with a hushed voice. 

Y/N’s cheeks were no longer being bitten by just the wind--now they were red from Draco’s scathing words.

“No one really cares,” she whispered, her eyes falling to the ground. She knew that that was a blatant lie. 

“You know they do,” Draco answered, sighing and turning his attention back to the game.

Y/N only pretended to watch the game. In reality, she was trying to get her cheeks to stop flaming red with embarrassment. Perhaps she could blame the sudden flush on the cold, but Draco had to know. He had to know that he had, in a sense, rejected her, proving that his reputation was more important than sharing a sweet moment between the two of them.

Without the heat of an argument, Y/N settled back into her chilly state, quivering slightly with every new gust of wind. Pins and needles began to rush into her bare hands, forcing her to resort to sticking them inside her jacket like some kind of deranged penguin.

“Are you cold?” Draco asked.

“Er....yeah? Duh,” she responded, turning her head to face him with an unimpressed expression. “I thought we already went over this.”

Draco swallowed. His hands were shaking, harder than they were before. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was nervous, but it was cold enough out to excuse the behavior. 

“Give me your hands,” he demanded.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, bewildered from the sudden suggestion.

“You heard me. Give them here.” As if to prove that he was being serious, he stuck his own hands out expectantly,

Hesitantly, Y/ drew her hands out of her jacket and held them out to him. He grasped them, pulling them to his chest and rubbing his hands back and forth. She was pleasantly surprised with how warm his core was. (a/n: the word core is ruined for me because of smut and i promise that that isn’t what i was trying to imply)

“I thought you said you were cold.”

“I thought you appreciated my dramatic flair.” Draco exaggerated a frown, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. 

This was new. While they were on better terms and had done a fair bit of things that friends did, one line they never crossed was legitimate physical touch. Y/N couldn’t say that she minded it, though.

Feeling slowly tricked back into her hands as they sat like that, Draco still stroking the outsides of her hands and Y/N standing ramrod straight in disbelief. Once her hands were no longer numb, she cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly, withdrawing her hands from his chest and tucking them back into her pockets. “I can feel them now. I think I’m alright.”

“Ooooooookay,” Draco responded, raising an eyebrow in slight disappointment. “If they ever get cold again...”

“Okay.”

The tension between them only thickened as Y/N realized she’d made a horrible mistake. She was starting to feel positively frozen at this point, and to make things worse, the Y/H/N seeker had decided to hang out over the stadium seats where Y/N was seated. Every few seconds, she’d dive down and another rush of freezing wind would hit Y/N and Draco. 

Within a few minutes, both were shivering messes. Y/N considered offering her hands back to him, but her pride kept her from going  back to it. She withdrew them. She couldn’t ask for more again. 

“You’re still cold, aren’t you?” Draco’s voice pulled her back from her plotting. 

“Was it that obvious?” 

The laugh Draco let out was small and involuntary. 

“Well, I mean....” He sucked in a deep breath before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “You can....you can sit closer.”

“Oh?” The words left her mouth before she could revise them. 

“Er.. yeah, come over here.” Draco patted the already rather small space on the bench between them. 

Y/N cautiously scooted closer, closing the gap until their shoulders were almost rubbing. 

How was this supposed to accomplish anything?

Draco answered her question before she could even voice it out loud, taking one arm out of the sleeve of his cloak. He draped it over Y/N’s shoulder so they were sharing the garment, pulling her close.

Y/N almost gasped but caught it just in time. Draco’s arm was now wrapped around her shoulder and her head pressed up against his warm chest.

She could hear his heart racing as his free hand slid under the cloak, taking hers and stroking them like he had done before. 

“And what was this about being ashamed of my house?” she managed to quip, lifting her gaze upwards to meet his soft grey eyes. “You won’t wear my scarf but you’ll allow...this?”

He blushed, turning his fair pink skin an even deeper red as his thumb rubbed lazy circles on the back of her hands. 

“I told you,” he whispered, dropping his head down so his face was mere inches away from her, “Y/H/C looks ghastly on me.”

final a/n: this kind of took a u turn from the original direction that was requested and i deeply apologize for that haha. i’m not the best at writing fluff, i’m a little better at writing build up, so i’m going to have to work on that. thank you for reading!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The Bitter Cold

Ross Poldark x Reader

Words: 2464

Summary: After visiting family, the reader and her son borrow her father’s carriage to return to Nampara, where Ross awaits to spend the long winter holiday with his wife and son. However, when the carriage is damaged mid journey and far from any settlement, the ice and snow provide anything but a holiday.

Notes: Yes, I've written another Ross Poldark drama imagine. I don't know why I enjoy putting him through these situations, but here we go. I also thought it would be interesting to write the reader as a mother. Enjoy and don’t forget to leave replies!

-

“Can we stay longer, Mama?” William tugged at the skirt of your dress and you looked down at him with a smile. “I want to see the ponds freeze over.” You crouched down to his level and looked at him lovingly. Only five years old and he was quite the explorer. 

“What about dear Papa?” You wondered, brushing a dark curl out of William’s face. “Don’t you think he would miss us?” William looked at the ground. 

“I miss papa.” He sighed. You stood and took his hand. 

“Then we must return home.” As the two of you began to board the carriage, your mother rushed towards you from the house. You laughed. “Mother, we’ve already said our goodbyes. We must leave so we can arrive before dark.” 

“I know, I know.” She said, placing a hand on your arm. “I just came to instruct Mark to watch the skies. Your father believes it may snow.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“And how could he know that?” You both snickered and your mother shrugged. 

“You know how he is.” She pulled you into her arms for one last hug. “Now go tell my son-in-law I better see him soon. I miss his handsome face.” William poked his head out from behind you. Your mother grinned. “He’s almost as handsome as you.” William giggled, placing a kiss on his grandmother’s cheek. 

“Goodbye!” He exclaimed, now happily thinking about reuniting with his father. You told your mother to wish a joyous Christmas to the rest of your family and Mark finished preparing the horses. 

William gazed wistfully out the window as you passed fields and flowers. You, in turn, watched outside your heart yearning for your husband’s smile, for his kiss and his touch. You wondered what Ross had been doing to busy himself these past few weeks while you and William were away. Perhaps he didn’t even notice your absence. 

-

“You look tired.” Dwight noticed, sitting across from his friend as they ate stale bread and drank the last of Ross’ rum. 

“I’ve been busy in the fields and helping Zachy fix Jinny’s roof before the first snowfall,” Ross replied with a sigh. Truthfully, he found as much work as he could to distract himself from the quiet. 

“It’s okay to miss them, you know?” Dwight gave his old friend an amused smile. “How long has it been now, two weeks?” 

“Three.” Ross corrected, finishing his glass. “But I have survived perfectly well without them. Besides, Y/N and William return this evening.” Dwight chuckled.

“I will be glad to see them return. Perhaps then you will make better company.” He teased, standing up. “I should go and tend to my own wife. Caroline bores easily when she’s alone.” Ross gave him a small smile as a farewell before he was left alone again. He used to enjoy the peaceful silence of Nampara. But after having the noise of a rambunctious young boy and a wife whose laugh rang out like a bell, he found the quiet to be less of a comfort and more of a disturbance. He was very glad that Y/N and William would be home soon. 

While he spent the afternoon tending to the fields, you gazed up at the sky. The clouds were a cold grey and covered the entire sky. You still had several hours left on your journey and you started to worry about your father’s prediction of snow. Mark was a new coachman, raised in London. He likely new very little about driving in the snow. However, it rarely snowed in Cornwall, so you had fairly little to worry about. 

“How much longer, Mama?” William asked, growing impatient. “I want to show Papa the stones that Grandfather gave me.” 

“We won’t arrive until after nightfall, my love.” You put a hand on his cheek. “Why don’t you rest? That way you won’t be tired for your father when we get home.” He nodded and laid his head against the wall of the carriage. You decided to do the same and ignored the gnawing feeling of worry. 

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you were violently awakened by the carriage shaking and jolted to a stop. William hit his head and began to cry. You held onto him to comfort him and Mark came around to the door. 

“What’s happened?” You asked. He blew out a breath. 

“The wheel has broken, Miss.” He motioned down and you saw the splintered wood. 

“Where’s Papa?” William sniveled. 

“How far from Nampara are we?” You desperately hoped that home was near, but you were left disappointed. 

“I’m afraid we’ve still an hour or so left.” Mark grimaced. “I’ll have to ride into town and find someone to fix it.”

“And what of us?” There was only one horse and the three of you certainly wouldn’t fit. 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He released the horse from the carriage and mounted its saddle. 

“Ride quickly Mark.” You pleaded. 

“Why aren’t we going home?” William’s cheeks still wet with tears. 

“It looks like we’ll have to wait a while longer.” You brought him into a hug to calm him, though the soft white flakes floating down from the sky put your nerves even more on edge. The air was growing colder and the snow fell faster and thicker. “Ride quickly Mark.” You repeated, muttering to yourself as if it were a prayer. 

-

Ross watched the snow fall with a grim expression. Y/N and William should have been back by now. He worried that they’d been stopped by the snow. He hadn’t seen snow in Cornwall like this for several winters past. He wondered if they’d stopped in Truro. If he hurried, he could make it to town before the blizzard fully set in. If they were there, they could stay at the Red Lion for the night. 

He road swiftly into Truro, the freezing air biting at his face. When he reached the tavern, he hoped to see his father-in-law's carriage outside, but none seemed familiar. Though, there was a horse whose saddle had a carving in the leather- the first letter of Y/N’s maiden name. He quickly entered the tavern and searched for the face of his wife or son. But the Red Lion was fairly empty, with a small gathering in one corner and a younger man sitting alone, drinking far too much ale. He found the owner and asked if he had seen Y/N. 

“She hasn’t been in, but that boy over there mentioned something about driving the coach for a young woman and her son. He said he was going to lose his job for leaving Mr. Y/L/N’s daughter in the snow.” He pointed to the lone boy and Ross walked over to him with an expression that would put the fear of God in any man. 

“Where. Are. They?” He growled deeply, sliding the ale off of the table. 

“Who are you?” The boy squeaked.

“Ross Poldark.” The boy’s eyes grew wider. 

“Y-your C-Captain Poldark?” He stood up to try and escape, but Ross pushed him back into the chair. “I meant to go back, I swear.”

“You left them?” Ross boomed. 

“The wheel of the carriage broke and I came here to find someone to fix it. By then, the snow had started and no one would travel and I didn’t know what to do and now I’m going to lose my job-” He was stopped by a sudden strike to his cheek. 

“You left my wife and son in a blizzard.” Ross’ temper was reaching murderous levels. “They could die out there.” 

“I didn’t know what to do!” The boy defended. 

“Where are they?” Ross yanked him out of his seat. “How long have they been out there?” 

“A few hours, maybe…” He avoided Ross’ gaze, looking ashamed. 

“A few hours!” Ross exclaimed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? They will freeze.” Ross felt the panic rising in his chest. He dragged the boy outside. “Take me to them.” His mind conjured the worst visions. William’s face, frostbitten and framed with icy black hair. Y/N’s lips- the ones he’d give anything to kiss again- turned blue. Maybe he was already too late. 

While he hurried his horse into action, you clung to William, wrapping him in your own cloak to keep him warm.

“I’m so cold, Mama.” He cried, his breath turning to a white cloud in front of him. 

“I know, sweetheart.” You tried to comfort him, but there was little you could do. Where was Mark? You prayed that he would appear, but with the winter storm outside, you knew he wouldn’t be coming back. Bare and freezing, your arms were pale and weak, holding onto your son as you both shivered. Mark had been gone for nearly two hours and no one dared travel in this weather. You were trapped in an icy tomb. You felt helpless. 

“When can I show Papa my treasures?” William asked. 

“Soon, Will.” You felt yourself choke on your words. A promise that you couldn’t keep. The glass of the carriage window had frozen over from the inside, the icy crystals blocking your view of the outside. You couldn't see the dark figures cutting through the white storm, riding frantically towards the carriage.

“There!” Mark yelled, pointing at the snow-covered carriage. Ross’ horse trudged through the snow until Ross jumped down, running as quickly as his feet allowed. He tried to look in the window, but the frost completely obscured his view. The door had frozen shut and Ross had to use all of his strength to pull it open. 

You jumped at the sudden sound and the rush of freezing air. At first, the voices meshed together, muttering words you couldn’t understand. But when the blur of white revealed the face of your husband, you almost thought that you were dreaming. 

“Y/N,” His voice was warm, and though his voice alone could not restore heat to your skin, it relit the flame inside. 

“Take William first.” You kept your son wrapped in your cloak and Ross picked him up. Despite being very cold, William grinned at the sight of his father.

“Papa!” His excitement caused him to start coughing and Ross draped a blanket that he’d taken from the Red Lion over him. 

“You’ve done well protecting your mother, now I need you to stay with this man while I help her.” Ross handed him to Mark, giving the young man a deadly warning look. 

“Ross,” You sighed happily, wanting to reach out to him, to kiss his face and take him in your arms. But you could hardly move. As Ross touched your arm, his fingers burned and your body flinched away. 

“My God,” He gasped. You were as cold as death. He quickly shed his coat and put it around your shoulders.

“No, Ross, you’ll grow cold without it.” You fussed, but he ignored your objection and lifted you up, keeping you close to his warm body. 

“It is better I grow cold than you freeze to death, now put it on.” He ordered gently. You weakly put on the coat and he carried you to his horse. He instructed Mark to follow him to Dr. Enis’ house, holding you tight to him as the four of you rode through the blizzard. You clung to his warmth, desperate to escape the cold air. William still looked cold, but the color had returned to his cheeks and he seemed somewhat content. 

The journey to Dwight was agonizingly slow and many times Ross feared that they would be lost to the storm. But he persisted. While without his coat, his shirt froze and stuck to his skin, it was nothing compared to the porcelain white your face and arms had become. As he had feared, your lips had a bluish tint and snowflakes clung to your eyelashes. 

“How is William?” He shouted over to Mark, wishing that he could have taken both of you instead of entrusting his son to the very person who deserted him. 

“I’m alright, Papa!” William responded though Ross could see him shiver. They were getting worse with every minute that passed. 

After an hour of icy torment, the Penvenen house stood out from the white landscape. 

“Dwight!” Ross kicked the door with his foot, both of his arms wrapped around you. “Dwight!” He shouted again. The door opened suddenly. 

“What in-” Dwight began, but Ross pushed past him, followed by Mark. “What happened?” 

“Their carriage broke and this idiot decided to leave them in the storm,” Ross growled, motioning towards Mark as he set you down on Dwight’s carpet, close to the fireplace. Mark placed William beside you. 

“Caroline,” Dwight called out to his wife. “Get them some tea and blankets. We need to keep them warm.” 

“We shouldn’t trouble them.” You whispered. Ross ran a hand through your hair. 

“Hush, my love.” He knelt in between the two of you, keeping one hand on William’s shoulder and the other rubbing circles on your back. 

“How long were they out?” Dwight asked and Mark’s eyes dropped to his feet. 

“Including the time it took us to find them and take them here… about four hours.” 

“Dear God,” Caroline exclaimed, quickly bringing the items Dwight asked for. Ross and Dwight bundled you and William in blankets and gave you the hot tea. 

“Will they be alright?” Ross asked his friend, his hand gripping yours tightly. 

“He seems to be fine…” Dwight lowered his voice. “She appears much worse.” Ross’ heart dropped. By saving William, you sacrificed your own chances. Dwight put a reassuring hand on Ross’ shoulder. “But she should recover.” 

He sighed with relief, moving his hand to your cheek. 

“Did you hear him? He said you’re both going to be alright.” He smiled, despite the fear that still sat within him. 

“You have to write to my family.” You told him softly. “Tell them that we made it home.” Ross turned back to Mark with a dark glance. 

“I will write and tell them what happened.” 

Mark gulped and walked over to the window, his guilt weighing down his shoulders. 

“He is young.” You started meekly, giving your husband a small smile. “Don’t punish him too harshly.” Ross lifted your hand to his lips, placing a warm kiss to your palm. Your skin was still pale, but some slight color began to return. 

“Alright.” He laid down with the two of you and William curled up next to him. It was going to be a long and difficult winter. But you had each other and that was enough to warm even the coldest of hearts. 

[severalspoons]

“Wolfwood Mood” quotes

To be updated as I find more.

God may judge you, but His sins outnumber your own. --  @afabbaeddel

“Cynic, n. A blackguard whose faulty vision sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.” ― Ambrose Bierce, The Unabridged Devil's Dictionary

“That's one of the remarkable things about life. It's never so bad that it can't get worse.” ― Bill Watterson

“An encouraged person will eventually get his drive from encouragement; he becomes more dependent. A person that never really receives encouragement learns to move out of spite; he becomes more independent.” ― Criss Jami, Killosophy

They're going to have to glue you back together, IN HELL! -- Demoman in Team Fortress 2

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” ― Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

“Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.”- Epictetus

“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.” ― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms 

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me. --Fallout New Vegas NPC

“We all have strength enough to endure the misfortunes of others.” ― Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Man can get used to anything, the scoundrel. --Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“And what's strange, what would be marvelous, is not that God should really exist; the marvel is that such an idea, the idea of the necessity of God, could enter the head of such a savage, vicious beast as man.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“The soul is healed by being with children.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Killing myself was a matter of such indifference to me that I felt like waiting for a moment when it would make some difference.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Dream Of A Ridiculous Man

“Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will follow you.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

“The whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano key.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

“One man doesn't believe in god at all, while the other believes in him so thoroughly that he prays as he murders men!” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist.” ― George Carlin

“Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.” ― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” ― Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967

“You only live twice: Once when you are born And once when you look death in the face” ― Ian Fleming, You Only Live Twice 

“There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.” ― Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“Freedom is what we do with what is done to us.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

“Better to die on one's feet than to live on one's knees.” ― Jean Paul Sartre 

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does. It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

“There is no reality except in action.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism

“Life—the way it really is—is a battle not between good and bad, but between bad and worse.” ― Joseph Brodsky

“mankind is resilient: the atrocities that horrified us a week ago become acceptable tomorrow.” ― Joseph Heller

“Do you know what it means to be a survivor? It means that not only do you have to live through things, you have to live with them as well. The second part is much harder and sometimes it takes the rest of your life to learn how to do it. But at least you have the rest of your life…” ― Josephine Angelini, Firewalker

“Someone has to be stoic, for the sake of, in spite of, and in the face of all those who are, not. Someone, has to be serious. Someone has to choose to forgo choice, so that there is an option left for others to consider. Everyone can't be, someone.” ― Justin K. McFarlane Beau

“Loving someone always requires you to not love others.” ― Koushun Takami, Battle Royale

“Dignity is as essential to human life as water, food, and oxygen. The stubborn retention of it, even in the face of extreme physical hardship, can hold a man's soul in his body long past the point at which the body should have surrendered it.” ― Laura Hillenbrand, Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption

“We are not defined by the things we do in order to survive. We do not apologize for them,” she says quietly, eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe they have broken you, but you are a sharper weapon because of it. And it is time to strike.” ― Laura Sebastian, Ash Princess 

“People are petty, spiteful creatures. What they can't use, hurt, steal, or control, they'll usually destroy.” ― Lorna Reid, Darkwalkers

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” ― Lucius Annaeus Seneca

“If someone puts their hands on you make sure they never put their hands on anybody else again.” ― Malcom X

“Think of it! We could have gone on longing for one another and pretending not to notice forever. This obsession with dignity can ruin your life if you let it.” ― Mary Ann Shaffer, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

“Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival.” ― May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude 

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." ― Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.

--Maya Angelou

You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

--Maya Angelou  

“Somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.” ― Melina Marchetta, Finnikin of the Rock

“Show me somebody who is always smiling, always cheerful, always optimistic, and I will show you somebody who hasn't the faintest idea what the heck is really going on.” ― Mike Royko

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” ― Rabindranath Tagore, Collected Poems and Plays of Rabindranath Tagore

“Survival," I said softly. "It's selfish, and it's dark, and we've always been a species willing to do anything to satisfy our needs.  ― Rachel Caine, Total Eclipse

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson  

“To have endured horrors, to have seen the worst of humanity and have your life made unrecognizable by it, to come out of all that honorable and brave— that was magical.” ― Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

“We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.” ― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave  

“I judge you unfortunate because you have never lived through misfortune. You have passed through life without an opponent—no one can ever know what you are capable of, not even you.” – Seneca

I will fight you in Hell upon a mound of bones. -- @shitmygaywifesays

“As long as there’s two people left on the planet, someone is gonna want someone dead.” -- Sniper, Team Fortress 2

"If God had wanted you to live, he would not have created me!” -- Soldier, Team Fortress 2

babies cry because they are alive and that is the saddest thing to be. — spencer madsen (@spencermadsen) December 15, 2011

Do you think God stays in heaven because He, too, lives in fear of what He’s created? --Spykids 2nd movie

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side.  Or you don't.” -- Stephen King, The Stand

“The only thing that matters in the end is your own survival. It's what humans and cockroaches are best at.” ― Susan Ee, World After

If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn’t as cynical as real life. --Terry Pratchett, Guards, Guards!

“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are good people and bad people. You're wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.” ― Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards! 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -- Theodore Roosevelt 

I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees. --Unknown

if you stay alive for no other reason at all, please do it for spite. -- Unknown

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. -- Unknown Tumblr post

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” ― William Goldman, The Princess Bride 

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

...I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL— wint ( @dril ) May 22, 2012

#Yes I will put Shakespeare side by side with Dril #fight me

[alias-b]

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 7: Every Breath You Take

A/N: The Snow Ball was so much fun to write. :) Camille hands Billy his ass this chapter after he fucked up at the Byers’ House. I stan a queen. Also rereading Hopper’s first impression of Billy is basically “who the f* is this ugly dumbass?” and it still kills me

  The party came back together again in the shambles of Joyce’s yard. Thankful words and hugs were shared between them. They took soft beats to relax again. To appreciate the gifts of life and friendship.

  “Uh, who the hell is this drooling kid in the Camaro?” Hopper broke the moment when he peered into the car to see Billy with his mouth open, still passed out in back. "Was he even here before? Am I losing track of you guys already?"

  “That’s the new Keg King, Chief.” Steve began, touching his cut lip. “All hail.”

  “My stupid brother.” Max shrugged, gesturing to Camille. “Her stupid boyfriend.”

  “Not even close.” Camille decided, draping Billy’s jacket over his torso as if to tuck him in there. “He attacked us looking for Max. We kind of had to…maybe drug him. Just a little. He’ll be fine. Don't even worry.”

  “You, what?” Jim spun on his heel so Camille touched his arm.

  “Just a little bit. He is... He was a friend and he...lost it. Also, he knows…some stuff. About me.” She clasped her hands to shrug with innocence. "He won't say anything, I'll make sure."

  “Another squirrely kid I get to keep quiet.” Jim grumbled, shutting the door to leave Billy there snoring. “Hawkins lab is finished. In this town, at least.”

  “Jonathan and I made sure of that.” Nancy came forward. Joyce and Jonathan were holding Will between them, wrapped up in blankets on the steps. His friends crowded.

  “And my mother?” Camille lifted her eyes.

  “We can get you out of there.” Jim nodded but, instead she frowned. He realized it then. Camille noted he seemed truly disappointed. “You’re going back.”

  “I have to go back. I have to finish this part. My father is dead. Hawkins lab will be gone. Mostly. Gate’s closed. I’m not leaving that house until I have everything I need. I don’t think it’s safe still. Just as you said, I can’t make waves. I have to pretend. Have to go along with whatever half-baked story we have now.” She was stern. “It’s going to crush her. My mom. Fake mom. There are people out there who could come after us still. I have to play house. If I'm unaware, they might think they're safe. Experiment can continue. Just a bit longer.” Camille held herself and Hopper dropped his hand when she went around him. “I’d like to know you better, El.” The little girl reached to take her wrist, nodding. They went up the steps into the house together to begin sharing.

** ** **

  “Still asleep back there?” Camille drove Billy’s car up to a cliff overlooking Hawkins. The sun would rise soon. A brand new day. A brave new world. Max turned and nodded. Steve drove his own car behind them.

  “He’s out but…moving.” Max looked up, buckled in next to her. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Camille stopped the car and turned to get into the back. "Billy." She shook him, rousing him further. Billy hitched a moan, eyes glazed when they opened. His head and neck both ached something awful. Camille was in his blurry line of sight. Soft again. Face cleaned. She took the time to wipe drool and blood from his chin with an old t-shirt on the seat.

  "C-Cam...ille." His tongue slurred, trying to function.

  “Hey, you.” She'd eased. Steve’s car came up along side them to park. Billy saw her clearly and gave a jerk, lifting his now bound hands.

  "The fuck?" He'd mouthed.

  "Don't worry about those, sit still for a sec so we can talk. You attacked us. Do you remember everything? Don't lie.” His bright eyes darted across her face. “Nod.”

  “Yes.” The tone scratched. Eyes huge. He tried to take in the surroundings all at once, licking his lips to wet them. “Untie me.”

  “I have something to say to you first. Few things I just need you to hear.” Camille brought her legs up to the seat, arm propped by his head. Delicate fingers tucked a loose curl from his temple. “You look nice. Devil's pride nice. The cologne is to die for. You know, I had a whole outfit planned. I think you would have liked it too." She sounded wistful. "First, you’re not going to talk about anything you saw. There are people out there who will kill us. They'll come for you too if you make a mess. Nod.”

  “Camille.” Billy squirmed in the seat belt.

  “Nod.” She ordered again so he did. Max watched from the front seat.

  “Second. You’re…You are not a good person, Billy.” She saw him glance away, groaning before he tried to sit up. Her finger tipped his chin so he was looking at her eyes again. “Maybe I’m not either some days. What you’ve done is…disgusting. You disgust me. What you did tonight. Attacking Steve and…Lucas. A child. Don’t think I also didn’t notice how you targeted a young boy with dark skin. You probably didn’t realize that at all too but we did. Interesting how parents rub off on us without us realizing it until we're spitting their venom.”

  “It’s not like that. They-”

  “Not like that? I'm sure. Do you think it matters? Intentions? We notice shit. And now you know because your greedy Jew whore told you. As if I haven’t gotten that ever. Do you really want to look back and remember how your father’s words sounded coming out of you’re mouth? How they tasted? I know you, Billy. Well enough. He is awful to you and I know you’re in so much pain. But, to use that to cause pain to others. That ugly shit doesn't fly. Life is a god damn pain and there are people out there hellbent on making it worse. I'm not sure why you're fine being one of them.”

  “Please-” His eyes crushed shut, teeth clenched.

  “But, I know there is a little girl in that house that needs protection too and you could give her what your father never gave you. Do you realize that? That’s a chance you wasted.” Camille gestured to Max. “You both could spit Neil’s terrible words back in his face by being better. You think Max would let you do that alone if you tried just once to love her? Tried to be a brother. Didn't bother to try. You’re gorgeous but now…I see you. I see you for what you are.” Billy let tears fall. Just a few. Exhausted. Teetering. Torn to shreds. Utterly wounded. Camille was gentle when she wiped them. Harsh and truthful. Unworried. Explicitly tender to break through Neil's rough conditioning.

  “I-”

  “You know, I watched my father die tonight and…what’s terrifying is that I’m most upset about all the things I never got to say. The answers he took with him. The fact that there had to be something flickering in him that loved me back and it wasn’t enough. This father who chased my monsters away turned out to be one himself. He hoarded me from them to keep me all for him. I was a beloved family hamster in a wheel and I'm fucking done with it all. But, the loss of my father. I know that I’ll live. The fact that I let him die…I think I’ll forgive myself for that too. Little by little.” Camille's eyes welled and he just watched her expression. Impossibly still.

  “Billy…” Max sighed then. “I know you miss your mom. And California. And everything. You think I don’t miss it too? You think I want to see my mom cower from him? She can’t replace your mom but she can care about you. I just… I miss it all. I hate it. I hate it but, I don’t hate you. You're an asshole but, I don't hate you. I’m angry too, you know. I can’t…fix any of it.” Billy’s eyes slid to her carefully then panned to focus on Camille.

  “I know what I said. You are not a good person, Billy Hargrove. You are a bully. You’re lost. You’re abusive and too damn young and above all that shit, you are better than that. You're a fucking asshole but, I'm telling you right now that you can be better. Maybe Neil neglected that fact. But, is being him and completing the cycle the future you want? I think you just needed to hear it. From a friend. You want to waste that, it's no one's fault but your own. But, right now, the only thing I can give you is pity. Nothing else. It’s on you. Awful or not, you can still do good things. Maybe they won’t forgive you in a million years but you can still do good things despite it. Scariest thing about humans, I think. A choice like that in a world so fucking messed up. I just want to be brave and be happy again. With some help from my friends, I think I can do that. But, you know, we’re just kids still…we have a lot of time to grow and I don’t want to waste it anymore. I truly wish that you don’t either one day. People are liars and bullies…and some grow out of it. Maybe you’ll try. It’s on your shoulders and…I hated myself once and I was a damn bitch and a coward but…I think I’m going to keep trying to be more that that. I hope it works out for both of us. Goodbye, Billy. See you around school.”

  “Let’s go.” Max opened the door when Camille cut Billy’s ropes and dropped his keys in his hand.

  "That's all I had to say." Camille shrugged and slid to leave.

  “I can’t…” Billy lowered his head, near silent. “I can’t go home without Max.”

  “Steve and I will take her home. She already called to check in. Covered for you too. Because she’s a good sister. You can follow us. I just don’t think she’s safe to be with you right now. Change our mind.” Camille watched his face, those trembling lips, before she got out to get into Steve’s car. They drove back in silence. Camille opened the door to hug Max tight when Billy emerged to park. She turned to go but he stopped her quietly.

  “Camille.” He tried not to beg. Voice grounded and low. “Let me show you something before you leave.” She debated it and nodded to Steve, turning. Max raced up the steps to go in first, hurrying to see her parents in their room. Camille clasped her hands and Billy walked her down the hall in silence. Didn't try to touch her or invade her space.

  “This was for you. Had to ask the guy which one it was. Stupid thing is dying already.” A pink peony. Beginning to wilt. Two fingers offered it so she took it from him, nodding.

  "They do that when they're cut from their home." She began, eyes trained on his when she touched the soft petals to her nose and lips to inhale. "Little attention and care though, they can make it farther. You stop dragging your feet and put in the work."

  “One more thing. I lied to you.”

  “About?” She watched him lift his mattress and pull an old, tattered photo out. Tentative, he entered her space to show her. A woman in a long sundress grinning with a young boy next to her. He had a toothy smile and surfboard in hand. The beach behind them was full and gorgeous. His mother. “She’s very beautiful. You have her eyes.” Camille lifted her gaze and he nodded, voice hushed and honest. “You look happy.”

  “I was.” He took it back when she extended it out, thumb tracing the corner. Something to show them both it was obtainable. She hesitated and offered the truth with a great belief that resonated.

  “It’s possible, I think, to get there again.” Camille touched his face and Billy let his eyes close. That too soft grain of compassion heated his skin.

  “I won’t say anything.” He whispered, sighing as she slipped away from him. Too far away.

  “Take care of Max. Take care of each other. Own your shit... And tell my friend that I miss him.” Camille paused again when he pulled his saint pendant off to offer it. “I can’t. It’s your mother’s necklace.”

  “Just watch it for your friend... Until he gets back,” Billy slipped it over her head, shifting hair aside. There it was reciprocated in one tiny flicker. Hope. She stared at him so he spoke. “Goodbye, Camille.”

  “Good luck, Billy.” Camille left the house and got into Steve’s car.

  “You okay?” He touched her shoulder while she looked outside at the brightening sky.

  “Yes.” Camille exhaled. Not red. Not at all. “Let’s go.”

** ** **

  “I can’t let you do this.” Jim Hopper shook his head.

  “She was my mother once.” Camille replied. His Blazer pulled up to her house, flocked by police cars. “We can’t do anything else. I have to be oblivious. Until it’s safe again. We went over the story several times, I got this. She won't know.”

  “I’ll watch over you, all right? You need anything, you call me first.” Camille welled up and took off her seat belt to hug him. A man who also lost too much and who was trying to make things better for a girl he barely knew in truth.

  “I’d like to see El more when I can.”

  “I’ll try to make that happen.” He followed her out and up the steps.

  “Camille! Camille!” Her sobbing mother raced outside, pushing officers aside to hold her. Camille didn’t want to crumble. Yet, it happened. She needed a mother right now. “Oh, god. Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there. I will be.”

  “I know… I know.” Camille cried it out, fingers scrunching up her mom’s dress. "And Daddy..."

  "Hush, I have you. I'm so sorry, baby."

  "Milly, thank god." Edna approached and Rosemary hissed.

  “You’re fired. Leave us.”

  “You cannot do that.” Edna, for the first time, looked deadly. Cold. Camille peered to meet her eyes. Sink. “Mrs. Harper, this is not over. We both know that.”

  “It is,” Rosemary led Camille into their house, rubbing her back and cooing to calm her. “You’re all mine now, my sweet. It’s over, baby. It’s all over now.”

  Camille knew better.

** ** **

  “They boarded the whole place up today,” Nancy poked at her lunch a week later. Life continued. Mostly. Camille was met with students sorry for her loss. Hawkins Lab grasped some of the blame it was owed. School picked up again. Her mother was home almost every night for dinner. Almost. Mourning her husband even still. Her own work and grief pulled. Unknowing that Camille found out the truth. She played the part. Good daughter. “And Barb’s parents…they’re holding a funeral.”

  “I’ll be there,” Camille nodded. “How’s Mike?”

  “Frustrated. Wanting to see El again. Hopper said to give it time.” Nancy smiled when Jonathan sat down and Steve joined the table with him. “Heard that you and Dustin are best buds.”

  “I keep good company.” Steve was wistful. Accepting. A good person. “Taking him to the damn Snow Ball in style.”

  “Nancy, Jonathan, and I are all volunteering for that.” Camille smiled, she ate a meal with her friends. Queen Bee again. Freak. Camille. Lunch ended and they scattered, Camille caught up with Nancy at the door. “Want to go to the movies tomorrow?” She took her hand.

  “I’d like that.” Nancy grinned this time. Friends again. Camille missed this part most. Billy barely said two words to her when school life resumed. Leaving a space between them. Not like a gaping, endless pit. More like a cool moving river. She watched him give Max rides and scurry to class.

  They minced few syllables in chemistry, he stuck his nose elsewhere and she didn’t pry. One occasion, Billy dug into his empty bag for a pencil and Camille slid one over as if it were a peace offering. His hand slipped to take it. No words followed. She only ever spoke during labs they had to do. Aloof and even. No energy to be spent and wasted. Billy took to following her lead. A new position for him. Quiet as he did. Careful not to shatter the cracked and mending glass. He avoided Max’s space at home too. Leaving the room when she entered on occasion. Distance was better for him. So he told himself. Susan found him curled up in his room on a Saturday and he didn’t bark at her for once.

  “Max left for her friends.” She began and he sniffled. Footsteps crept closer to his bed. "It's Saturday...you're not going out?"

  “Leave me alone.” He begged instead, face muffled into a pillow. Tone changed. “Don’t tell him.”

  “I won’t.” Susan reached to touch Billy’s hair. The first time she’d ever reached out for him. He whimpered so she pulled away. “I’m making breakfast now. Omelets. Green peppers. You should come eat something, Billy. I could bring you a plate.” His head lifted at that. His favorite. She went out of her way for him.

  “Okay.” He was barely audible. She was trying. He decided to try too. When it didn't bleed, Billy let himself relax.

  “Haven’t seen that pretty girl in a while.” Susan turned. “Camille was sweet.” Billy turned his eyes, sighing out before he wiped his face. “Neil…he…he can’t say much if she comes over as a tutor instead of a friend. Just a thought.”

  “I’m not like him.” Billy paused and the realization brought him to a complete halt. “I don’t want to be.”

  “Then don’t be.” She was careful.

  “What he thinks about certain people. I don’t think that. I don’t. I didn’t…know. Fuck.” Billy clenched with tears, pressing the pillow closer while he faced the wall still so she wouldn’t see him. “Do I? Dad wants me to be... But, I'm so fucking...tired. I hurt people. I hurt Camille. She... What if I’m already like him and I can’t…I can’t fix it.”

  “Do you think he ever stayed in on a Saturday and stopped to ask himself these questions?” Susan was honest at last and Billy felt his heart give a great shudder. There was a beat.

  “I’m sorry, Susan.” His simple, raw words stilled her entire world. “Bout…my dad...and me.”

  “You can give Max a ride to the Snow Ball.” She replied, earning a nod. “Thank you, Billy.”

** ** **

  “Hey, Harper!” Chief Hopper pulled up to the school before Camille could get into her car. One month later. Time didn’t heal all wounds but it was a start.

  “Am I in trouble, Chief?” She approached with a grin.

  “Maybe,” he chuckled. “Need a favor. I have an address and I need you to bring some items to it in the next two hours. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Oh, you have a mission for me?” Camille clasped her hands.

  “Your biggest one yet.” Jim beckoned her to the window. Camille raced down the road an hour later. Dressed to help at the dance. Excited, she tapped the steering wheel. Snow trickled down in little flurries, barely sticking. She thought of her mother. Holidays to be spent alone this year. Her father was buried. Rosemary still played the game of house and Camille with her. She never broke down. Not once. When would the right time emerge? Still, she was contented to be with her friends. Pulling up to a cabin, she got out and craned her next. Eleven ran down the steps in flannel with Jim behind her. They hugged and she pulled back.

  “I missed you.” Camille came to her level. “I may have brought too much.”

  “What the hell…” Jim watched her heave a whole trunk from the backseat. “Seriously?”

  “Girls like options, Jim.”

  “Yeah, we like options,” El agreed and he rubbed his face. Camille lifted her hand, teetering before the trunk came up. Eleven helped, arm out and they beamed.

  “Okay, cool it with that.” Hopper followed them back in. El opened the trunk to see clothing. Nothing she’d ever worn.

  “Old stuff. Should fit her, I was about her size at that age.” Camille smiled. “Hair first then makeup. Ready?” Eleven grinned now. Sister. A long lost sister.

  “Yes.”

** ** **

  Sparkling lights played off the winter decorations. Music echoed into the auditorium while awkward children roamed. Camille poured punch with Nancy, setting cups upon the table. Across from them, Jonathan took photos, waving at the two girls.

  “Want to come over for our Christmas dinner? The boys and Max are going to bring toys that night, play some D&D. Mom has like twenty desserts planned.”

  “We could dust off some old costumes.” Camille giggled. “I’ll convince Hopper to bring El over.”

  “How’s Rosemary?”

  “Sad. Still working by force. It’s just us now. We care for the house and…it feels normal. No one came for me. Not yet. I can’t…read her all the time.” She sighed. “Hopper offered me a place when…if things go sour. I know it’ll come out one day. I think I’m looking for something first. Something inside her. Just to see if it’s there. Can't find it in dad anymore after what I did. She knew where I came from. She knew and had a huge part in it. She tried to make amends. Even if it was sick. And if I make noise…”

  “I hope you find it. Whatever you need.” Nancy offered. Across from them, Dustin entered with a style dressed similar to Steve’s. Hair and all. “Oh, my god.”

  “Aw, can we keep him?” Camille touched her heart. “Precious thing.”

  “Ladies,” Dustin passed.

  “Hey,” Nancy spoke as he went to greet Mike and them.

  “Max,” Camille stopped to hug her. “Pants? How edgy of you.”

  “Mom did this to my hair,” she grumbled.

  “You look great. Promise. How are things?”

  “Quieter.” Max nodded, eyes brightening. “Nice.”

  “Good,” Camille gestured. “I won’t keep you, go have fun.” Max hurried away and they poured more punch. Fixed up the table. Enjoyed the night. Another song started and couples came together. Max and Lucas joined them. “Remember when it was that easy, Nance?”

  “Was it ever?”

  “I try to think it was,” she joked. “Uh, oh, check my three o’clock. Boy down. Mayday.” They watched Dustin try to ask girls to dance and get brushed off. He looked crestfallen. “I’m going in, cover me.” Camille followed Dustin to the bleachers while he sniffled. “Hey, Dusty.”

  “Cam…Camille,” he hurried to wipe his face and she sat down. The most popular girl in her school smiled at him. Other kids took note.

  “Not giving up already, are you?”

  “Ngh…no.”

  “Good, because the Dustin I know faces all frights head on. Especially when one of the party needs assistance.” She crossed her arms over her knees and nudged him with her shoulder, he brightened just a little at that. “A very wise kid taught me that after he roped me into monster hunting. I used to help babysit him.” She kissed his cheek, earning a smile and Nancy paced over.

  “Wanna dance?” She put her hand out.

  “Uh, Nance, I’m talking with Dusty here.”

  “Snooze, you lose, Cam.” Nancy took Dustin away and Camille laughed after them, shaking her head before she stood up and watched the couples move. Heels clicked while she made her way back only for Max to stop her, hand in Lucas’s.

  “By the way,” she began, “he’s outside.” Camille turned, arms crossing. “Just in case you needed that information.” Max pressed a sort of half smile and went back to the floor. Another song bloomed when she decided and headed out. Eleven appeared at the same time, nervous and looking around.

  “You look amazing,” Camille touched her shoulder. “Own it, it’s your night.” Eleven spotted Mike standing and crossed over to see him. Heading outside, the air chilled when Camille saw Joyce and Hopper waiting together.

  “Ms. Harper. Up to no good?” The Chief regarded her.

  “Me? Never.” She batted her lashes and smiled at Joyce. “They’re having fun in there.”

  “They needed it.” She agreed.

  “I hope you’re well too.”

  “Thank you, Camille. You take care.”

  “Just where are you headed?” Hopper added, lighting up a cigarette.

  “Oh, I…” The teen regarded them. “I was just…uh, going for a walk. There are way too many hairspray fumes in there. Not good for the brain. Why are you two here, huh?"

  "Just friends." Hopper was too quick.

  "Right…so…bye now and mind your business, Chief.” Camille smirked and Jim scoffed with amusement. She hurried off before they could question it further, rubbing her arms for warmth. Camille spotted that familiar blue Camaro up the hill, parked off to the side under the stars. Billy took some time to look at them, half seated on the hood with a cigarette between two fingers.

  “Look nice, do they? Finally taking the time to see them.” She watched him snap to focus on her. Blue eyes awed and looking her up and down once. Lips parted to mouth her name, too scared to offer it to the cool night air. A beat lingered.

  “Harpy. You clean up nice. Devil's pride nice.” He didn’t move an inch more so she paced around the car toward him, standing a few feet away. Pretenses lowered.

  “You feel like sharing that?” She shrugged and he flicked ashes aside, lifting his hand to offer it. No interest in going home as usual. The company was well received. Camille joined him against the hood, smoke slipped from her lips. Billy stared for a quiet moment when she instead looked up at the sky. A slight hum of contemplation sounded. She exhaled and gave a soft shudder against the cold weather. "Not a bad view from manure land. Not one bit." Billy agreed with that, eyes direct on her. Shifting, he shrugged off his jacket. That brown leather bomber she loved. Camille offered him the smoke back so he put it between his teeth and helped her into the coat. Music was still echoing soft in the distance. “You know, I got a strange call from a concerned stepmother a few days ago.”

  “What?” Smoke billowed out soft lips.

  “Had a few things to say. Good things. Hopeful things.” Camille took the cigarette again to inhale. Her nerves subsided. Billy studied her face and panned to see the stars again. “Nothing red in sight today, huh?” Silent, he agreed again, finishing the last drag before crushing it under his boot.

  “What did she tell you?” He puffed slower.

  “That you’re still angry a lot. Naturally. And sad. And quiet. Extremely quiet. That you take Max to the arcade almost every day when needed and you pick her up. That a mysterious new skateboard appeared in Max’s room…"

  "This fucking asshole ran over the old one with a Camaro."

  "I'm sure... She also mentioned that green peppers solve just about everything.” She chuckled and Billy turned his head when his lip quirked. “That you avoid Max but you don’t lash out like you used to. That Neil hasn't stopped despite it all. And when your Camaro had a recent engine problem, your sister was out there silently passing you tools to fix it. You let her do that. Progress. Always happens in small bouts if we stop to notice them. She also invited me to dinner Wednesday. Said your dad would be working late.”

  “Haven’t heard that one.” He lifted his eyes.

  “You’re having pot roast.” Susan was not his mother. But, she cared.

  “She always burns the damn edges,” he joked, softening. Camille shifted to brace her hand back and covered his.

  “I want to try something.” These syllables always brought stillness to his world. She tugged once without fear and he stood up with her. Camille guided his hands to her waist, shifting to touch his shoulders.

  “Never been to a school dance. Just hit the parties after.”

  “Smart. And it’s easy,” she watched his eyes flicker to the pendant hanging from her neck. Gentle hands clasped behind his shoulders and she swayed to the music in the distance, bringing him with her. “You haven’t lived until Hawkins High prom season starts.”

  “Think this year will hurt your chances as prom queen when we’re seniors?” He cocked his head as they turned and she shrugged. Glowing. Beautiful.

  “Ah, I guess we’ll see.” Camille watched his eyes, something connected again. Small but still there. Billy swayed closer until her head came to his collar. Two hands laced. Her arm went around his shoulders and he slipped one hand along the small of her back. The dance continued. Perfume invaded his senses so he closed his eyes. “I really did miss my friend, you know? Tell him that again for me.” Friend. Billy felt himself smile. Only slight. This amazing chance she'd offered without fear or anguish would not be wasted.

  “I’ll let him know,” he nudged his head into her own. There it was again. The pull that things might turn out fine. Or something close to it. The belief that they both deserved better here. The song ended for another and they stayed there in place. Camille inhaled and came up to see his blue eyes in the moonlight.

  “I have to get back.” She whispered against him, slipping away yet again. Cool and light. Hope filled the river that ran between them.

  “Keep the jacket.” He winked and she sucked in her cheeks, hugging it closer. “See you around, Harpy.” Camille shifted down the hill, spinning on her heel to see him as she went. Her luminous smile resonated.

  “Be kind to yourself, Billy.”

** ** **

  “How was the dance?” Rosemary busied with a new drawing when Camille came into her studio.

  “They had fun.” She stayed at the door until the older woman looked up.

  “Lawyer and I got your father’s affairs in order finally.” She went on. “We’ll be fine. I’ll try to be home as much as I can but with him gone…”

  “I get it,” Camille held Billy’s jacket around herself. "I'm sorry." The words just came, eyes welling.

  "About what, sweetie?"

  "Just..."

  "He loved you so much, you know. I love you, I always will. You and I will make it. We will be just fine. We have each other." Her mother pressed her lips. Camille felt guilt and shame pool. But, not all over Noah. He made his bed. She tried to tell herself that. The shame that this was not enough. That it never would be. That the reality of it all was too ugly and that ugliness could rub off on her. That the cycle was not broken.

  "Just...sorry." Camille would find what she needed another day. Her heart stilled. Tried to be brave. Rosemary looked at her eyes. There had to be something. Anything. She hadn’t kicked Camille out or given her to enemies in the distance who would love to study her.

  “We have a long supply of your medication as well.”

  “Oh?” Camille flushed them each day. “Good.”

  “Our party this year will likely not be happening. But, we can still do gifts and candles. Chinese for Christmas morning before my flight?”

  “Definitely… Nancy invited me over after. Almost everyone’s getting together. Heather went on some ski trip for winter break.”

  “I’ll be out around New Years time. Will you be alright here alone, Camille?”

  “I’m not alone.” Camille admitted, lips lifting because saying it with such conviction felt amazing. “I never was.” She turned without explaining to go up to her room for the night. Billy’s jacket hung over the vanity mirror. Her hand gripped a little crochet doll before she was lulled off to sleep.

  Hope made the world less red.