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gracieheartspedro · 24 hours

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Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before.

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat.

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy?

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life.

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him.

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you.

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face.

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself.

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.”

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat.

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes.

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it.

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner.

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things.

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind.

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like.

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you.

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date.

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable.

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed.

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be.

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”.

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands.

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne.

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring.

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness.

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel.

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking.

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable.

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting.

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently.

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner.

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies.

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.”

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full.

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response.

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you.

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen.

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas.

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything.

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right.

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing.

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough.

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass.

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft.

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up.

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment.

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment.

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight.

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #pedro pascal characters #gracieheartspedro

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calicoheartz · 6 hours

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Please write something where paige x teammate!reader is on a live with KK, and then someone asks along the lines of "Are you gay?" and KK starts reading it, and paige and deader both go "don't. " almost like that one live. 💀

And then later the night KK goes on live at a bar or party and then you can accidentally see paige and reader make out in the back ground 👀

-🦢 (ily too)

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 ; 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

꣑୧ — summary | basically the prompt !!

wc ; 637

— warnings | mainly fluff , somewhat suggestive !

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : anon , you are ALWAYS keeping me fed with your requests !! enjoy besties!:)

Paige and you are sitting in her dorm room, laughing over some inside joke as you scroll through your phones. The off-season has given you both some much-needed downtime, and tonight, you’re planning to relax with a spontaneous Instagram Live. KK, another teammate, joins in from her own room, and soon, the three of you are streaming to your fans.

“Hey, everyone!” KK greets the viewers, grinning widely. “It’s a chill night with your favorite Huskies!”

The comments start pouring in, with fans sending heart emojis, asking questions, and generally expressing their excitement. You and Paige wave at the camera, adding your own comments to the chat.

“So, what should we talk about tonight?” you ask, leaning closer to Paige, who’s reading some of the comments aloud.

“Oh, someone wants to know what our favorite pre-game rituals are,” Paige says, her eyes twinkling as she reads aloud. “I guess we can share that.”

KK jumps in, sharing her ritual first, and then it’s Paige’s turn. You’re about to share yours when a comment catches KK’s attention, and she starts to read it aloud.

“Are you gay?” KK begins, eyes widening slightly.

Before she can continue, both you and Paige, almost in unison, exclaim, “Don’t!”

KK quickly shuts her mouth, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, okay! Moving on,” she says with a laugh, clearly amused by the synchronized reaction.

The rest of the Live continues smoothly, with more light-hearted questions and fun interactions. Eventually, you all say your goodbyes and end the stream, laughing about the close call.

Later that night, the team decides to unwind at a local bar. The music is loud, the atmosphere electric, and you’re having a great time. You and Paige stick close together, your usual comfort zone, but there’s an underlying tension, a shared look that seems to convey everything you’ve been feeling.

KK, always the life of the party, decides to go live again. She’s capturing the energy of the night, showing everyone dancing, laughing, and just having a good time.

You and Paige find yourselves in a quieter corner of the bar, the noise around you fading into the background as you lean in closer to each other. The moment feels right, the mix of alcohol and the charged atmosphere giving you both a bit of courage.

As you glance over, you realize KK’s live feed is still rolling. She’s panning around, talking to other teammates, and then her camera inadvertently captures you and Paige. Without even realizing it, you lean in, and Paige meets you halfway, your lips meeting in a kiss that feels like it’s been a long time coming.

KK, still chatting away, doesn’t notice immediately. But the viewers do. The comments explode with reactions, and when KK finally notices, her eyes go wide. She quickly turns the camera away, laughing awkwardly.

“Uh, looks like everyone’s having a good time!” she says, trying to cover up the slip.

Meanwhile, you and Paige pull back, both of you blushing but unable to stop smiling. The cat’s out of the bag now, but in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re just happy to finally share this with Paige, no matter how unexpected the reveal might have been.

Later, as you walk back to the dorms together, Paige squeezes your hand. “Well, that’s one way to come out,” she jokes, her eyes shining with amusement.

You laugh, leaning into her. “Yeah, not exactly how I imagined it, but I’m glad it happened.”

Paige stops walking and turns to face you, her expression serious for a moment. “I’m glad too,” she says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss, this one slower, more meaningful.

As the night ends, you know that things might be different now, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

cami and her low-key short fics >>>> ... as always thank you so much for reading !!

#wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb #my hcs #wcbb x reader #headcannons #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige x reader #lesbian #so gay for her

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sacrificialdaughterr · 7 hours

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tags | abby x reader, fluff, slight smut, abby's version of aftercare, this is short n silly

Your muscles ached with the feeling of a deep, lingering ecstasy. Trembling thighs sticky with your own release knocked together in direct comparison to a fawn taking its first steps; messy, uncoordinated, as the thin sheen of sweat that covered your bare chest glimmered in the lamplight as you tried to regain control of your sporadically shallow breathing.

You had been bent out of shape, manhandled into disproportionate shapes you weren't nearly flexible enough to withstand. You knew your body would be paying in the morning for the way Abby pounded you into the mattress- it was already paying now- but you couldn't find it within yourself to care all that much. Not when a feeling of pure bliss washed over you as the warmth of a damp washcloth brushed against the skin of your thighs, relieving you of the mix of fluids that lingered on your skin; cum and saliva that, in Abby's expert opinion, made a beautiful mess out of you.

And Abby, she cleaned you with a gentleness that bordered on the line of ghostly, out of this world touch. You were in awe that such a thickest, heavy hand could touch you so delicately, yet purposefully, as she cleaned between your legs, extra careful around the soreness she had a hand in providing you with. "Shh, shh.." She shushed ever-so-softly as you winced, an involuntary whimper slipping through the rosiness of your pouted lips. "Did so good for me, baby.. Such a good girl."

Her softly uttered praise had you relaxing into the mattress, almost drowning in a sea of freshly-washed sheets and pillowcases- though, how clean they were after what they just witnessed, you weren't so sure. Nevertheless, you lay limp, droopy eyes glued to Abby as you revelled in the feeling of pure love that encapsulated you, gazed up at you from between your spread legs, a satisfied smile graced upon Her lips.

It wasn't long at all until you were wrapped in the comforting smell of artificial pine, one of Abby's shirts hanging loose on your frame as, with your head resting against the softness of her chest, her blunt nails scratching at your back, you watched with wide, attentive eyes as she flipped through a leather bound book of quarters, each separated into their own sections, snuggly lodged between a thin film of plastic.

"This one.." She trailed off, motioning to what had to have been the 500th quarter in the span of just a few minutes. The silver cupronickel was engraved with a bird sitting high in the treetops, the word Virginia lined along the top. "Well, I bought this one.. Was a shit ton of money," She admitted with a soft, flustered chuckle.

Seeing Abby ramble about her interests never failed to set your heart to stuttering in your chest, beating unevenly as you soaked in the way a slight crinkle formed between her light eyebrows when, for a moment, a fact she was excited to share slipped her mind, or the way her blue eyes glazed over when you seemed genuinely interested, asking question she would happily answer- truthfully, you asked just to listen to her speak, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

Despite how much you loved it, you couldn't get over the humor that lived within the situation. Abby had just rearranged your guts beyond repair, and here she was yapping about her quarter collection as if it were just a normal Thursday night.

You couldn't help the giggle that, consequently, gained Abby's attention. She huffed out a slight, unsure laugh of her own, eyebrows creasing for a new reason; confusion. "What?" She drawled, a soft pout downturning on her lips under the notion she had missed a joke of some kind- or, better yet, that she was the joke.

You merely shook your head in response, gaze once again meeting Abby's as your chin took place on her chest. "Nothing.." You assured, a sing-song tone to your voice as you gave a gentle tug to her braid, golden strands of hair idly wrapped around your index. "You're just so cute," You added in a softer, gentler tone- almost as if, in that moment, it dawned upon you how true your words were.

Those few words alone had Abby rolling her eyes, a sheepish look crossing her face as the freckles once at the very forefront of her features were lost beneath the rosy red color that flushed to her cheeks. The sound of plastic filled the silence, Abby picking at the corner of the binder in her lap in an attempt to calm her quickly beating her, the giddy feeling that flooded her chest like a tsunami of emotions. "Shutup.." She scoffed out, lips lopsided as she tried to control the smile that wanted so desperately to make itself known. "'M not cute."

"You are."

Abby cleared her throat, puppy-like eyes flickering between your face and her quarter collection. "You.. You wanna hear about my quarters, or not?" She grumbled, feigning annoyance as she forced her eyebrows into a furrowed expression.

You only giggled in response, snaking an arm around Abby's chest as you settled into your previous position, watching as she flipped to the next page to yap to you about something you had happily listened to a hundred times over.

#big fat nerd abby!!! i love her #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson moodboard #abby anderson x reader #abby x you #abby anderson smut #plussize!reader #chubby!reader #wlw #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2

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lady-ashfade · 19 hours

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Eloise Bridgerton x reader! In which Eloise and the reader are friends and Eloise romantically likes the reader but is afraid to confess because she thinks she will be rejected (the reader likes her too, and sorry about the bad english, i'm using the translator 🥺)

Quite Telling

Eloise Bridgerton x Fem!reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 487

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: fluff and bit angst, pinning, short blurb.

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Book’s often portray love as butterflies in your stomach, flattering body that gets weak when you see someone, and a high feeling. Eloise hated the books about love because she didn’t care for it, thinking it was all a lie.

And now she wished she read more.

How was she supposed to get over her feelings of being near you, or seeing your smile or hearing your laugh. The pain she felt from holding herself back from the urge to kissing you was horrible. All she could ever think about was you and she was becoming crazy.

“Dear, are you alright?” Violet asked her daughter who was lost in her thoughts, standing still at the window as rain poured down on the ground. Eloise snapped out of it and grabbed the book that was now in her lap back up and gave a reassuring smile.

“No need to worry, it’s just a beautiful day.” A mother knows much about her children and violet knew her daughter well. Eloise was often to push away when she was going through things. But she could push her to talk about it, so she just smiled and nodded her head.

Just as the sun rises and breakfast was done, the routine of visiting you for morning walks was the thing that woke her up. Her head went fussy when you grabbed ahold of her arm and her heart spiked like crazy.

“There isn’t much my mama has been telling me lately. Each gentleman walking up to door is all the same and non have half the wits they think themselves to have.” rolling your eyes annoyingly, Eloise laughs at your remark.

“Thank the heavens I have no callers, the one thing whistledown gave me was keeping them away.” you glance at her, there was still spite in her voice.

“It’s their lose anyway, you’re a Bridgerton. Pretty and smart sounds like a amazing catch.” you giggle. her cheeks flush red and look away at the compliment you gave her.

Pretty? You think she’s pretty and smart.

“Might I ask you something?” Her mouth speaks on its own before she could stop herself. you humming in agreement and focus on the ground as you walk. ears ready to hear.

could you ever love her? the lump in her throat tighten as her stomach dropped. all she wanted to do was confess or give you a hint. why was it so hard? she shouldn’t be afraid of it. but looking at you and the way the sun cased it’s golden light on you, the beautiful smile on your lips. she couldn’t find the courage.

“Purple?” the excuse didn’t work out as she wanted. you turn your head in confusion to what she meant.

she was a fool. “Purple or Blue? A dress for me tonight.”

“Purple, I like that color on you.”

then she shall wear it for the rest of her days.

𐀔 please don’t repost my fics on other websites. This is my writing. And I don’t own the characters just y/n.

#Eloise Bridgerton x reader #Eloise Bridgerton x fem!reader #Bridgerton x reader #x fem!reader #Eloise Bridgerton blurb #Eloise Bridgerton imagine #Eloise Bridgerton #blurb #short blurb #Bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton

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justwritedreams · 2 days

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Uncle Marcus | Mark Lee

Domestic!Mark x Reader Genre: pure fluff Word count: 751 Warnings: mention of wisdom tooth removal Note: This is all for myself while I recover, would I like Mark to be my nephew's uncle? Yes definitely🤧

⪢ NCT Masterlist

Y/N heard her nephew's voice sing through the house, humming her name and she just smiled lightly, as much as she could at that moment and adjusted herself better in bed knowing that the two and a half year old baby would come running at any moment. “Uncle Marcus arrived!” the little boy announced at the door of his aunt's room and she held back her laughter with her hand over her mouth, already imagining her boyfriend's face. A few seconds passed before she saw her boyfriend's familiar face pass through the doorway in a kind of shock and disappointment upon hearing the wrong name, he was holding the small hand of Y/N's nephew who was bringing him to her room. "Hey love." Mark approached the bed and gave Y/N a quick kiss on the forehead. "How are you?" “Swollen.” she pointed to her left cheek and saw Mark laugh lightly as he looked at her. Her face was actually slightly more swollen compared to the other side but that was expected, considering that removing the tooth would do just that. “Any pain?” he asked worriedly and she shook her head. “I just feel sleepy.” she replied, lying down on the bed again. She still felt the anesthesia in her mouth, it had only been two hours since she had her wisdom teeth removed so the effects were still there. “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” he assured and approached to give her a light peck, both Y/N and her nephew laughed. The nephew for finding the scene amusing and Y/N for feeling just one side of Mark's mouth press against hers. "What?" He laughed awkwardly. “I don’t feel anything on that side.” She explained, pointing to her own mouth and he laughed along. “Rest, okay?” he asked and she nodded. “Your nephew and I have a lot to play with.” Y/N admired her boyfriend holding her nephew in his arms, the little boy loved Mark and tired the boy until he himself fell asleep but it was a great battle because Y/N's nephew always fell asleep first. She just watched the two leave the room as her eyes grew heavier and heavier and she gave in to sleep.

[…]

Y/N started to wake up to the sound of the guitar chords, it was familiar, Mark tried to teach her nephew to play the guitar from an early age and the little one always had fun with the instrument, more hitting his own hand than playing the strings but he liked the songs and Mark singing for him. Just like Y/N, who didn't move to avoid attracting attention, she just watched her boyfriend and nephew sitting on the floor in their own little world. She enjoyed watching the interaction between the two, the two favorite people in her life adored each other and she couldn't feel happier. “Listen, grandpa and grandma are here.” Mark announced to the little one that clapped his hands and got up quickly, with the help of the older one and ran out of the room, Mark followed him a little late and came back a while later. “I didn’t see you woke up.” he said to his girlfriend as soon as he saw her eyes open, he sat next to her on the bed and took his hand to caress her back. “He adores you, you know?” Mark smiled widely, he also liked him as if he were his own nephew. And in fact he felt like it was. “He just needs to learn to say my name correctly, right.” Y/N laughed at Mark's disappointed expression. “One day I’m Marcus, the next Maku, he’s even said Mork.” “Will you believe me if I tell you that when you’re not here he says your name right?” Mark looked at her in disbelief. “I feel defeated.” He threw himself on the bed next to Y/N who stroked his hair lightly as he made himself better on the bed. “You’re his favorite uncle.” Y/N remembered and he nodded. “And he’s my favorite nephew.” Y/N laughed. “Because he’s the only one.” They both laughed and Mark turned to face her. “Thank you for coming today.” He moved closer to kiss the tip of her nose. “I said I would come and take care of you. Your parents have a child to look after and so do I.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Okay, Uncle Marcus.”

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scarlethexelove · 2 days

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If possible could you do a intersex kate bishop x Stark fem reader where Kate and reader are rivals with alot of tension towards each other and soon they begin to have a argument/fight that turns into a love confession with reader and Kate ending up sleeping together and reader becoming pregnant with Kate's child

I Love You, You Idiot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4804

Warnings: Intersex Kate, Little bit of angst, Smut, Some fluff, being shot, being trapped, Kate's got a big dick (Yes that needs to be a warning in itself), unexpected pregnancy, throwing up, blood draw, soft protective Tony, Mentions of torture, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of being skinned, Scars, Kind of a frenemies vibe, P in V, unprotected sex, Little bit rough sex, Choking, Maybe more I can't think of

A/n: I loved writing this one. Sorry it took so long. I knew this one was going to get long and I hope you like it. I would definitely be up for adding some more to this in the future.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You grunt as you pull yourself off the floor. Pain coursing through your shoulder, arm, and head as you look around the room. Pallets of equipment covered in tarps surround the room. A dim light only lets you see the center of the room. You look towards the exit but it is covered in rubble leaving you with no way out. Kate had shot an explosive arrow which had went terribly wrong.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Your eyes land on the raven haired girl who is dusting herself off. “What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with you? You pushed me.” Kate shoots back at you. Anger now taking over and making you forget about the pain you’re in.

Your Dad Tony Stark sent you on this mission with Kate. You and her don’t get along, always bickering and trying to one up the other. Most of the Avengers know that you both can’t stand to be in the same room with one another so why did your father send you out with her of all people. It’s not that you don’t find the girl endearing but she just, you don’t know how to put your finger on it. This mission was supposed to be easy in and out but that all changed in a matter of moments.

“I had to push you you idiot or did you want to fucking die?” You scoff as you jump and sit on one of the pallets. Grimacing when you poke at the bullet wound adorning your left arm not even being able to lift it to get a better look at the wound. Kate’s features soften for a moment as she sees your condition. You look up at her and see her shifting as she looks at you just causing you to scowl. “Oh so you had a death wish, got it. Next time leave me the fuck out of it.” Kate quickly snaps out of it. “If you hadn’t pushed me then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Her arms cross over her chest as she huffs. You roll your eyes. “Kate, that agent would have shot you if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way.” You notice how Kate’s nostrils flare when she is angry. “I would have been fine. I would have gotten him.”

Your patience is already wearing thin as your arm bleeds and you can now feel blood trickling down your face from your head. “He would have killed you, but I took the damn bullet.” You shake your head at the other girl and she shakes her head. “I could have gotten him.” You groan at her arrogance. “No you wouldn't, you didn’t even see him.” Kate just scoffed. She doesn’t want to admit she is wrong and that you are right. “Well if he was going to kill me why did you save me hmm? I thought you hated me.” Kate counters. You don't know what to say. You don’t hate her at all. Yes she annoys the hell out of you but she is a good person and someone that you can rival with. “Why did you do it Y/n?” She raises her voice. When you still stay quiet she yells. “Why the fuck did you save me if you hate me so much?”

“Because I fucking love you you idiot!” You yell back before going quiet and looking down. You honestly didn’t expect for that to come out of you and neither did Kate. Her jaw dropped as the room was completely silent. It takes her a moment to comprehend what you said. “W-what.” That is when the panic starts to build in you. You just told Kate that you love her. You hadn’t even accepted the fact in your mind before your heart took over and made you yell it out. Kate couldn’t lie she has always found you attractive and hated to admit that she was falling for you even though you bicker all the time. She just thought nothing could ever happen since you obviously hated her but she knows that she was wrong now.

You can’t bring yourself to look at her as you try to take part of your suit off. You need to check your wound and you want to forget that you just admitted feeling you haven’t fully grasped. “I-It’s nothing.” You mumble. You whimper when you can’t get your suit from off your shoulder.

Kate snaps out of her stupor when she hears you whimper in pain. She quickly makes her way over to you. “I think your shoulder is dislocated.” You hadn’t noticed how close Kate had gotten until you looked up startled. You don’t say anything and just nod. “Let me help.” You want to push her away and deal with it yourself but you know you can’t so you just nod again. “Okay.”

Kate looks over you to assess your injuries. When her explosive arrow went off it sent you flying into the wall. Your shoulder taking most of the impact and your head hitting against the wall. Blood drips down your face from the cut on your head. A sliver of it peaking through your hairline. All of the anger washes away as she sees the bullet wound adorning your arm. You were right and she might have been dead if you hadn’t pushed her out of the way. Your left side taking the brunt of all your injuries. Kate uses what Clint has taught her in order to treat you in the field. She helps get your suit down until it is sitting around your hips but you are wearing a long sleeve black shirt underneath. Kate hesitates before asking. “May I?”

You’re worried about Kate seeing you without your shirt on. Some of your past is only known to a select few outside of your immediate family. Four people to be exact Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. But you know for her to be able to help you she needs more access so you nod once again. A lump forming in your throat as she carefully removes your shirt. If she sees the scars she isn’t letting on but you know she can see them and you're thankful that she isn’t bringing attention to them.

It’s mostly silent other than your grunts and whimpers of pain as Kate pops your shoulder back in place and dresses your wounds. Leaving you thankful for the silence but the room is tense. Once Kate is done you look up at her and give her a soft smile. “Thank you.” It’s barely above a whisper but she hears it. Kate is about to speak before you cut her off. “I’m sorry.” Tears shine in your eyes not meeting her gaze. So many emotions are flooding you and you are struggling to hold onto one. “What for?” Kate asks you. “For everything. I was mean and spiteful to you for no reason. Well, more like I was scared.” Kate’s gaze softens. “Scared of what?” You struggle to find the right words to say. “Scared of what you would think of me. Scared of feelings that I don’t understand.” You look up at her and she sees the tears shining in your eyes. “I thought if I pushed you away and just was, I don’t know meaner to you I could just get rid of those feelings. I thought it would be better if you just hated me instead. But instead you made me fall for you more and I know that now. You don’t have to accept anything from me and you can hate me. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Kate takes the chance she cups your cheeks leaning in and kissing you. You're surprised but soon reciprocate the kiss. You don’t even realize how heated the kiss has gotten until Kate pulls away and you're breathing heavier. She leans her forehead against yours and whispers. “I love you too Y/n.” You look into her eyes for any hint of doubt but all you find is truth. Kate pulls back slightly her hands moving to your waist. Your legs wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer just wanting to feel closer to her.

That is when you feel it. Her bulge in her pants and you can tell just from the short make out session that it definitely stirred something within her. Kate notices that you can tell and starts to pull away. “I-I’m sorry.” You wrap your legs around her tighter and shake your head. “I want you Kate, please.” You grind your hips lightly making the other girl groan. “R-right here?” You don’t know where some of this confidence has come from but with your good arm you cup her cheek in your hand and rub gently. “Katie we are kind of stuck here and I just want to feel you.” Your words flipping a switch in her grip on your waist tightening. “Fuck.” She groans.

Kate is quick to help rid you of the rest of your suit. Tossing it to the side already sees a wet patch forming on your underwear. She bites her lip admiring your body. You normally would be self conscious of your body but the look in Kate’s eyes has that washing away. Letting yourself be vulnerable with her. She doesn’t seem to care about the scars that litter your body. She only sees the beauty in your strength.

A finger hooks into the waistband of your underwear as Kate slides them down your thighs until they fall to the ground. Your body is now naked in front of the fully dressed woman but not for long. Kate eagerly strips down until she is only in a sports bra and boxers. You can see her cock straining against the fabric. You reach out for her, wanting her to come closer, but she takes her time. Finally pulling her boxers down and letting her cock spring free. She is much larger than you had expected. Kate notices your look of shock which makes her feel a little self conscious. She is about to step back when you reach for her again. “Katie.” She hesitates for a moment so you speak again. “I’ve never taken anything… anyone so big before.” Kate relaxes, finally stepping closer to you, slotting herself between your legs. “If at any point it becomes too much, let me know and I’ll stop.” She gets closer, the tip of her cock bumping your clit making you groan.

“Please Katie.” Your need and want for her taking over. Kate just chuckles with one hand on her cock as she looks down slowly, swiping it through your folds. Coating it in your juices. She hasn’t even done anything yet and you're already a dripping mess. She is entranced by your dripping pussy as she keeps teasing you. You whine a little and buck your hips but that doesn’t stop her teasing. You start to grow frustrated. “Stop teasing and just fuck me already.” You're barely able to get the words out before Kate is thrusting her length into you. Her cock splitting you open and stretching your walls further than ever before.

“O-oh fuck.” You gasp. Kate takes a minute with her hands going back to grip at your hips. “Shit so fucking tight.” Kate starts to ease out before pushing back in. A painfully delicious stretch as she picks up speed. Small breathy moans start tumbling from your lips as Kate pistons her hips into you. Kate looks from where you two are connected looking at your already blissed out face. Your mouth hangs slightly open as moans continue to fall from your lips. “Fuck so this is how I get you to shut up pretty girl. Fucking your tight little hole with by big cock.” You can’t help the blush that rises as you nod your head words escaping you.

Kate tests the waters with you a little bit as one of her hands moves up to your neck wrapping around it loosely. Your eyes widen and with a particularly hard thrust from Kate you moan. She applies some pressure to your throat causing another moan to be caught in your throat. Your head falling back and your arm wrapping around Kate and digging your nails into her back causing her to moan. You like the sound of her moan so you scratch down her back and clench around her length. More moans tumbling from her lips. Your combined moans bouncing off the walls as Kate continues fucking herself into you.

“Mmmm K-Kate.” Your words breathy as the knot grows tighter. Kate's hand is still firm around your neck as she drives her hips into yours. “Fuck you feel so good around me baby girl.” Kate leans in kissing you. You moan into her mouth giving her access, allowing her tongue to explore your mouth. Your legs pull her closer to you as your nails draw blood on her back. You're both so close. Kate’s thrust becomes sloppy as she draws near. You grind your hips into hers looking for your release.

“Wanna cum baby girl?” Kate mumbles against your lips. Trying desperately to hold her own orgasm back wanting to see and feel you fall apart for her. “Mmm please.” You whimper. “Cum for me.” Kate demands. Your vision blurs and your legs shake around her hips. Your nails racking down her back leaving angry red lines cuming harder than you have ever cum before gushing around her cock which just sets Kate off. Her hips stutter as she paints your walls white. Her thrust slows as she continues to cum. Filling you so full there is a slightly large bulge on your lower abdomen and her cum leaking out around her cock. You have never felt this full in your life but it’s a feeling that you could get used to.

When Kate stops her hands drop from your throat as she wraps her arms around you and buries her head in your neck pulling you as close as possible. Your head falls on her shoulder as you both hold one another panting. When you both have calmed down enough Kate pulls back and looks at your disheveled state finding you even more beautiful than before. “That was…” You breathe and Kate finishes. “Wow.” Which causes you both to giggle.

Kate slowly pulls out of you which causes you to wince and whimper. “I’m sorry.” She says hating that she could have hurt you. “It’s ok Katie, just sensitive.” You say with a small smile. She smiles back at you before her attention is drawn down. She watches as a mix of both of your cums leak out of you. Wish she could just push back into you making sure that it all stays in but she doesn’t want to hurt you. So Kate does what she can to make you more comfortable. She wanders around setting up a small place for the both of you to lay down. Once she is done she picks you up but you stop her. “Kate, I can walk.” You slap at her arm lightly. She holds up her hands in defense. You get up but your legs wobble and your knees give out. You would have hit the ground if it weren’t for Kate’s strong arms catching you. “Don’t say it.” You warn the girl. She just chuckles.

Soon you’re both laying on the ground, you on your side that isn’t injured cuddled up into Kate’s side. Your bummed arm draped lightly over her stomach. Her arms wrapped securely around you as her fingers dance across your skin lightly brushing the large scar adorning your side. You know that she is just absentmindedly just doing it but you feel safe with her. Your head that was laying on her chest now propped up on your chin looking at the raven haired girl. “Would you like to know?” You question her, your words soft. Kate smiles at you. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

You lay your head back on her chest and let out a deep sigh. “When I was 13 a group of men kidnapped me. The daughter of the great Tony Stark should be able to get access to all the money and weapons they desire. I don’t know why they thought a 13 year old would have that but I guess they weren’t all that smart. When I couldn’t give them what they wanted they tortured me.” You have to pause for a second letting out a shaky breath. Kate is listening and holding you close for comfort. “I was there for a week with little food or water. Right before my Dad found me they took a large knife and literally skinned my side. They um, they sent it to my Dad which actually helped him find me. For as dumb as they were, they were also good at hiding. Not many people know outside of my Mom and Dad. Only Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda and well I guess now you.”

You nuzzle into Kate’s chest trying to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Kate sniffle causing you to look up at her and see the tears shining in her eyes. Her other hand moves up to cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry that happened to you Y/n/n.” You give her a reassuring smile. “It’s ok. I um still go to therapy for it and still have some nightmares but they have gotten better.” She leans in and kisses your forehead. The room grows silent as you both lay in each other's embrace.

Your eyes flutter closed as you grow close to sleep but you're woken when you hear a voice and not of Kate’s. Your com is sitting on top of your clothes. You quickly crawl over to it and stick it in your ear. “Y/n/n are you there? Please be there.” You hear your Dads voice come through the com. “Dad?” You question hoping you're not just hearing things. “Thank god you’re alive. Are you hurt? Is Kate there with you?” He asks quickly. “Yes Dad, we are ok.” You tell him as Kate is behind you rubbing her hand up and down your back. “Y/n is injured but I patched her up the best I can.” You can’t help but look back at her and scowl which just causes her to smirk. “Shit, okay. We have your tackers and we are working to get you two out of there. I’ll have medical on standby.” You huff. “Dad, I'm fine.” Kate talks over you. “No, she was shot.” Your head shoots back to look at her again. “It was nothing.” Your Dad is silent for a moment. “Medical will be ready to look you over when we get you out. We should get to you in less than an hour.” You nod your head like your Dad can see you but you realize he can’t. “Okay see you soon.”

You push Kate when you stop talking to your dad. “I just want to help you baby girl.” You can’t help but sigh knowing that she is right. Your cheeks are also heating up from hearing her call you that which just makes the girl smirk at you. So you push her playfully. You both quickly get dressed Kate helping you get dressed as you wait to be rescued.

—---------

You’re sitting in the lab with your Dad as you work on upgrades for yours and Nat’s weapons. You even have some ideas for Kate which makes you smile to yourself. But the smile soon falls when the familiar feeling in your stomach has you stopping. The tools once in your hands clatter on the counter as you lung for the trashcan. With the trash can now grasped in your hands and propped on your lap the small amount of content in your stomach is thrown up. Tony is behind you in seconds rubbing his hand up and down your back.

Once you're done throwing up you set the trashcan back down and wipe your lips. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were pregnant. You’ve been sick the last few days kiddo.” Tony says as he tries to comfort you. But his words spark something inside of you. You think back. It has been two months since the mission and you and Kate had sex. You’re just now realizing that you haven’t had your period either.

You start to panic as you realize that your Dads words more than likely ring true. Tony watches your expression change. You get up and start to move around the lab. Tony grabs you and stops you in your tracks. “Hey kiddo calm down.” His hands are on your shoulder. You look up to him with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go to the store.” He knows what you want and shakes your head. “We can do a blood test here in the lab. It is much more accurate than those tests.” You give your dad a small nod. He leads you over to his work area having you sit as he gets ready to draw your blood. You're both quiet as he sets up. As he starts taking your blood he speaks. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.” You sigh and look down. “It’s complicated Dad.” He is silent for a moment as he pulls the needle out and places a piece of gauze on the spot. You hold it there and pull your arm back. “Are you going to tell me who it is?” He asks you but you stay silent.

As Tony starts running the test you go and brush your teeth before coming back to the silent room and continuing your work. Trying everything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling in your gut. You don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like it is going slow and fast at the same time. You're brought back to reality when the computer beeps. You watch as your Dad rolls over to the computer screen and pulls up the results. You can’t see through his head but you're scared to look. It’s not that you don’t want kids, it is the fact you didn’t expect to have any right now and you’re not even dating Kate.

Tony rolls out of the way and angels the screen towards you. The screen shows pregnant. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as they move to your Dad’s face. You can’t tell what he is feeling at the moment but all you do is start to cry. “I-I’m sorry Daddy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.” You don’t even know why you're crying but just as before Tony is to you in seconds this time wrapping his arms around you tightly as you cry into his chest. He reassures you as he holds you close. Once you start to calm down he speaks up again. “Do you want to keep it?” You nod as you pull back a little and look up at him. There is a small smile on his face. “Now are you going to tell me who fucked my daughter?” You push at him a little as he chuckles which just brings a smile to your face. You know you are going to have to tell him because you have to tell Kate but you're still a little scared and you know if you don’t do it now you won’t have the courage.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You look at Tony who is still holding you in his arms. “Was it an Avenger?” He questions you. You pull back from him and wipe some of the tears off your face. “Please don’t be mad.” You tell him. “You fucked another Avenger!” He exclaimed. “Dad, if you don’t promise me that you aren’t going to be mad and respectful, I'm not going to tell you.” Tony grumbles but agrees. You let out a sigh before speaking again. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” It is quiet for a moment. “Yes Miss. Stark?” A female voice is heard overhead. “Can you please ask Kate to please come down to the lab.” You don’t dare to look at your Dad as you talk. “Right away Miss. Stark.”

When you finally meet your Dad’s gaze his mouth is hanging open in shock. Everyone knew that you and Kate didn’t get along so how could it be her. Though most have noticed that since your mission with her and being trapped together your dynamic has changed. You two wanted to keep things private and navigate these changes without the others knowing. So in front of the others you two were friendlier with one another but spent time together to get to know one another in private. Most just figured you two being trapped together changed things for you both but this wasn’t on their bingo cards for sure.

The door creaks open bringing your attention to the Raven hair girl that walks through the door. Kate notices the tear stains on your face and her gaze softens. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you were looking for me.” She looks between you and Tony and she can see the obvious scowl on his face. You give her a short nod before speaking up. “Dad, can you give us the room?” But he doesn’t move, still scowling at the other girl. “Dad you promised.” He grumbles and moves to leave. “Don’t try anything funny with my daughter, I'll be watching you.” He says to Kate as he walks by before heading out the door. He has always been protective over you and even more so of your sister so it is no surprise that he is acting like this.

“Y/n/n what's wrong?” Kate asks you but you don’t say anything, just taking her hand and walking her over to the screen. You drop her hand as you turn the screen for her to read. You drop your head not wanting to see her reaction. Not wanting to see her upset with you. The room goes silent once again as the results of the screen sink in. “You.. You’re pregnant?” Kate questions. You finally look up at her as tears that you didn’t even know were there start slipping down your face. You nod. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t m-mean for-” Your cut off when Kate wraps her arms around you and picks you up spinning you around.

You have to tell her to stop and put you down before you throw up all over her. She quickly puts you down but doesn’t let you go. “I’m sorry.” You mumble looking down. Kate removes one of her arms from around you and makes you look up at her. “Why are you sorry?” You can see genuine excitement in her eyes but also the concern she has for you. “Because I got pregnant.” You tell her feeling disappointed in yourself. She just shakes her head at you with a soft smile on her face. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. It takes two to make a baby and last time I checked I wasn’t the only one who came that day.” Her words make you blush a little and she chuckles. “I want kids more than anything baby girl and I would love to have them with you if that is what you wanted.”

You can’t help the happy tears that fall. “More than anything.” You mumble. You were so scared before but now all you have is excitement for a new chapter. Kate leans in capturing your lips with hers. The kiss becomes heated quickly as Kate pulls you closer, but you're both broken apart when you hear banging on the glass. You pull back looking past Kate at your Dad who is banging on the glass walls of the lab. You wave him off knowing that he is grumbling to himself. You both laugh at the situation before Kate gives you another quick peck.

Kate looks down at you love and desire in her eyes. She moves one of her hands onto your stomach with a smile, her gaze on your stomach before looking back up at you. “Y/n Stark will you be my girlfriend?” You shed some more tears as you smile and nod. “I would love nothing more than that.” You kiss Kate again before pressing your foreheads together basking in the moment and the excitement of what is to come next on this new journey.

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rebeccccccaaa · 2 days

Text

My Part of Town

__________________

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

:: After what seems to be a rather confusing and tough case, Hotch finds himself in a dark corner of a club watching the girl he interrogated just days ago captivate him in a way he hasn’t been in years. ::

warnings:: talks about violence (canon type cm kind); reader is described to have tattoos, alt styled extras (not goth specified), etc; age gap (reader is in her mid to late 20s), also slight power imbalance? Idk i tried to write it in way that didn’t make it seem like reader fucked her way into the BAU by making hotch a tiny bit subby/pathetic but idk i put the warning anyway sorryyyyyy, no mentions of y/n, sober reader slay, no contraceptives mentioned so stay safe babies, body positivity, mentioned jack at the end for plot lol but he’s not present in the story, not sure what else i should tag

author’s notes:: i originally wrote this with the intention of a certain type of person in mind (me lol) with the tattoos and stuff, i know not all you readers have such but i thought i’d keep the second pov for fun and interactiveness, so i hope that’s ok with y’all, enjoy!!

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Hotch stood at the bar, a drink sweating in his hand. He hardly drank anything, in fact he just wanted to go home at this point. The room smelt of body odor, cheap perfume, and smoke. He didn’t understand how his coworkers could love going out to such a place like this. It was definitely not his scene anymore, but with much begging from the girls and Morgan, they were able to successfully convince him and also Rossi to go and celebrate the success of this last case. He was surprised to even see Reid enjoying himself.

He never thought in a million years he'd be back in a place like this. He looked around seeing the girls in a small circle laughing and jumping around, Rossi sat at the end of the bar talking to a girl, who was way too young for him, trying to get her away from hims, and Spencer and Derek were standing at the edge of the dance floor wondering who their next flattery target was going to be. Darting his eyes around, they caught a particularly familiar set of eyes that Hotch couldn’t seem to shake until he walked into the overstimulating room of noise and colors, at least until this very moment.

You grinned at him, facing completely towards him now. You dressed in all black, platformed shoes making you much taller than when Hotch had met you for the first time. The silver and gold reflecting the bright lights that scattered over the crowd from your fingers. Your skin covered ink that surprised him just as much as it did the first time he’d seen your decorated skin. And although you dressed in all black, you seemed to stand out more than anyone else in the sea of bodies.

Hotch tightened his jaw upon meeting your eyes. Your hips swayed effortlessly to the music that boomed through the room. It was like you were dancing just for him. Teasing him, like you did in the interrogation room where you had first met. You were an enigma to the case. You had come from nowhere, had nothing to do with the unsub or the victims, and yet had almost all the answers the BAU had questions for before they could even begin a profile.

Hotch began to fidget in a panic when you began walking towards him.

Hotch walked in the interrogation room. File in hand. They were in New York City. The infamous concrete jungle. The case involved a long line of girls in their 20’s; their stomachs gutted and filled with dirt, a small white rose planted in place. They hadn’t a long list of suspects but when a security guard mentioned to Hotchner of a strange girl lurking at the scene of the most recent crime they brought her in as suspect or at the very least, a witness. Walking in the room, a girl sat rapping her ring stacked knuckles against the table.

“What the hell am I doing here?”

“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” Hotch asked.

You stayed silent. You knew the position you were in. You were studying behavioral analysis and criminal justice yourself.

You were at the crime scene yesterday, you asked questions to the security guard who ratted you out. It would be a waste of time and effort, and especially money, to know that after all those hours of studying, your skills would be useless when it comes to navigating a real case. You needed to see for yourself. So you asked some questions, awkwardly and suspiciously at best, and now you found yourself sitting in an interrogation room for a crime you actually have nothing to do with.

“Why were you asking questions to a security guard about the victim? You asked, if anything had changed? You indicated that you have seen the previous victims’ bodies.”

“I have,” you said.

“Why’s that? Was there something in particular you saw that made you ask those kinds of questions?”

“Am I being questioned as a witness? Or a suspect?”

“Why do you feel like you are being questioned as a suspect?” he asked, making you go silent. Hotch took his sign to leave, leaving you to continue tapping your decorated fingers against the table like before.

“She’s not really saying anything. Her demeanor tells me that she’s keeping something from us but her body language also is calm and collected. She may not have anything to do with the crime but she knows something, and she is not telling us,” Hotch said to Rossi and Spencer who stood watching the interrogation.

“I called Garcia to look into her background a bit. She’s also a student at the same college all three of our victims attended. So I asked her to cross-check each of their schedules with hers for any overlap and she came up empty. They don’t even study the same major,” Spencer explained.

‘What does she study?” Hotch asked.

“Get this, Behavior Analysis,” Rossi said.

“Hey! If you’re still lingering behind the window, I got something to say. But send the grumpy one in,” you shouted.

“She beckens for you, Agent Hotchner,” Rossi teased.

Hotch walked back into the room. You sat properly in your chair again with your hands folded politely, completely contrasting the way he left you. You had discarded your jacket too. Hotch couldn’t help his eyes drifting across your decorated skin. It tells him that you were most likely extroverted, confident. Though the psychology behind tattoos can be varied so his interest peaked briefly.

“What would you like to share?” Hotch sat across from you.

“Have you built a profile yet?” you asked.

“We have some working theories,” he responded.

“So do I,” you smirked.

“Agent Hotchner,” you strolled up to him, “What the hell are you doing in my part of town?”

“Your part?” he joked with you.

“Did you finish the case?” you asked.

“Yes, much help from you. Thank you,” he replied.

“What?” you yelled over the music.

“I said ‘Thank you,’” he responded loudly as you did.

“I’m just kidding, I heard you. I just wanted to hear you thank me again,” you smirked, before leaning over the counter to call the bartender. He may have been right about your tattoos making you a confident persona.

“So, what are you drinking tonight, Agent Hotchner?” you asked him.

“It’s just Hotch, and um, I’m not too sure. My coworker ordered me this drink. But I've hardly drunk it.” he complained.

“Yeah the drinks here are like gasoline, but at least you’re paying for what you get,” you laughed.

“What about you? What’s your poison tonight?” he asked you, he could feel his shoulders start to relax a bit.

“Coke,” you winked before grabbing.

“Really?” he asked with curiosity, he figured a girl your age would be drinking the night away while you were still young.

“I’m sober,” you told him.

“Good for you,” he told you, a smile creeping unsuspectingly on his face.

“Not all that crazy, I’m starting my thirties soon and graduating next semester so I have to start taking life super seriously since it won’t for me,” you said.

“What makes you say that?” he questioned.

“Seriously?” you joked, “Look, I knew my appearance was eventually going to affect my career down the line but I believed life is too short to not celebrate your body and decorate it the way you want. The body is a temple, and what’s a temple without art?”

“I think your tattoos are lovely,” he complimented.

“I think so too,” you grinned, making him chuckle. You liked amusing him.

“What do you mean by affecting your career? I understand not everyone likes tattoos in the workplace but you can easily cover them up with the right attire, can’t you?” he asked.

“Of course, but why would I want to burn up wearing a turtle-neck shirt in the middle of summer just to please some old fucks who don’t even work personally on the cases we would be working on?”

“I understand you,” he debuted.

“I can help with that,” he told you, after a small pause between you two.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“Well, I can talk to my boss about opening an internship position with the BAU. That way right before you graduate you can have a good reference and experience on your resume for when you start looking for a permanent position,” he explained.

“Are you serious?” you beamed.

“Yes, you were excellent with my team and incredibly effective. And I think it would be good for you to continue exploring that part of the job, if that’s what you want to do after you graduate,” he told you.

“Uh, yes! Oh my goodness, if I wasn’t sober I’d take a shot with you right now,” you laughed putting your hand on his chest.

Hotch could feel the warmth blooming from your hand into his system. His breath became slightly heavier than it was. He doesn’t know what compelled him to do this but he knows you could be very valuable to the team, and working with the BAU would set you up for success after you graduate. Those were the only reasons, right?

You and Hotch stayed a while at the bar talking and laughing most of the night. You told him stories about your tattoos and he told you stories from past cases. Derek and Spencer had left by then, Rossi was making his way out and the girls were still dancing and laughing as they had been the whole night. Occasionally they would point at him talking to you, they giggle at how unexpected and incredible it was for Hotch to be talking to a girl like you. What felt like minutes was actually hours and you were itching to get back on the dance floor again.

“Let’s go dance,” you tugged at his arm.

“Oh, no. That's not my thing,” he protested.

“Well, pretend it’s your thing tonight! Come on, I want to dance with you,” you begged.

“Eh,” he whined.

“Come on, come on,” you dragged him by the arm; it worked since he set his drink down and dragged his feet across the dance floor to bring his body against yours.

His hands hesitantly went to your hips while your arms instinctively wrapped around the back of his neck. Your chests were pressed against each other and if Hotch focused hard enough he could probably feel your heart beating against his. Maybe you could feel his picking up. Your eyes were closed, like you were trying to focus on only the music but unbeknownst to him you were focusing on his touch.

Finding confidence, Hotch moved his hands up and down your back. His leg moved in between yours and your hips moved together in sync. Hotch had never danced like this before with anyone. He felt a little lost but you were guiding him well and he was feeling more bold than before. Your fingers started raking through his hair and Hotch couldn’t help but sigh with his eyes fluttering close. It had been a long time since someone had been with him, had touched him in any way that wasn’t a professional handshake or a platonic hug. He had been always busy with work and if not work then taking care of Jack. Haley had been gone for a long time, it almost felt unnatural to feel this way again but Hotch was remembering how good it felt and how much he missed it.

He let his face bury into the side of your neck and you continued scratching his head, pulling your nails down the back of his neck making him breathe out shakily. You had this man suddenly wrapped around your finger. Hotch became as bold as one could get in the darkness of the club, letting his hands completely cup your behind and pulling your hips impossibly close to his. You pulled slightly away from him before resting your forehead against his. His eyes were only focused on your lips. You turned yourself around, hearing the sigh escape from Hotch when you did, but you made for it pressing your hips against his.

The girls had taken a break chatting and giggling at the bar. They couldn’t believe the sight before them. Hotch, a widower and single dad grinding up against a woman dressed in black and chains with tattoos up and down her arms and legs in a suit and tie he refused to change out of when he agreed to tonight's outing.

“I cannot believe what I’m seeing,” Penelope gasped.

“I think I’ve drank too much; I’m hallucinating Hotch having a better time than us,” JJ joked.

“Oh come on, girls. Leave the man alone,” Emily said before downing the rest of her drink.

“I would’ve been less surprised if Reid pulled a girl like that,” Penelope jokes.

“Yeah, it’s not so much the situation but rather who. I’ve never seen Hotch like this,” JJ said.

“You know I can’t deny that,” Emily rang.

“I think I’m gonna go now, seeing Hotch like this is making me feel things I’ve never wanted to feel from my boss,’ Penelope grumbled.

“You guys are so dramatic,” Emily laughed.

“I think I’m actually gonna go,” JJ chimed, “I shouldn’t leave my boys alone all night.”

“Ok, then let’s all just get out of here,” Penelope chirped, “We should leave Hotch to whatever he plans on doing.”

“I think you mean whoever,” Emily said, as she snapped a picture of you two dancing like there was nobody else there with you.

“Did you take a picture?” JJ gasped.

“Oh! He’s gonna kill you!” Penelope laughed out loud.

“Let’s go before he finds out then,” Emily chuckled.

You and Hotch danced like if the other let go you would disappear never to be seen again. You milked the time you had together in these final hours of the night before the sun set in reality. You could feel Hotch’s lips pressing against your hot skin below your ear. Your chest fluttered and your stomach flipped at the feeling. You were so enthralled in the feeling, you didn’t hear him whispering in your ear. The small puffs of air pulled you from this trance and you quickly turned around to better hear him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whined.

“Lead the way,” you teased, pulling gently at his tie.

His fingers entwined between yours pulling out of the disco. You nearly tripped over your platforms trying your best to keep up with the man taking you to his home. He opened the door for you and you practically jumped in the car without hesitation. You couldn’t help the giggles coming from you as you heard the quick steps from Aaron rounding the car.

The drive to his place was quick, or maybe it was long and you were just distracted. He looked so stoic and determined behind the wheel. Not even your light touches along his thigh, or the unbuckling of his belt would shake the fire behind his eyes. His skin was burning up and his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Once he got home he was quick to open the door, quick to rid his tie, quick to show exactly where he intended on fucking you tonight. So quick, he hadn’t bothered turning any lights on. Not that it mattered too much.

You laid roughly on the bed watching Hotch undress above you. You couldn’t help but notice the scars across his stomach, that’s when you noticed the scars along his knuckles; even with how dark the room was. You told yourself you’d ask about it another time. You didn’t want to ruin the moment over something he probably doesn’t want to talk about anyway. You started picking at your rings, twisting and pulling hard and fast to take them off; sometimes they were a bit distracting when you were having sex.

“No, leave those on,” Hotch gowled, before reaching to you to disrobe your outfit from tonight.

As he reached for those eye-catching platforms that made you stand out from most of the people dancing in the room, you couldn’t help yourself making a bit of a snarky remark.

“You want to keep those on too?” you flashed a smile.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he remarked, before his hands left your ankles to flip you over, leaving the shoes on for both your pleasures.

He peeled your underwear down your legs. His lips kissing the backs of your thighs softly; if you hadn’t been so overly focused on his every touch you wouldn’t have felt them. He stood tall over you, towering like a stoic statue. His hands roughly ran along your spine making you arch your back deliciously, basking in the fiery feeling. Hips pushing backwards to feel every inch of lust from the man behind you .

You dropped to your elbows, arching your back even more as you anticipated a craving you’ve wanted since he walked into that interrogation just days ago. If someone had told you then that that man would rutting his hips into from behind like he’d never fucked before, you’d had laughed in their face. But you couldn’t be more satisfied with the outcome of it anyway.

“Oh, Hotch,” you called out breathlessly.

He grunted behind you as he slowly inserted himself into you, pressure building like a souffle in the pit of your belly. He grunted again, words incoherent, before you realized he was speaking to you. You hummed in confusion, asking to repeat what he said louder, when his hands threaded your hair and pulled you back on your knees effortlessly against his body.

“Aaron,” he growled in your ear.

Your hands instinctively went up and behind, holding his face close to your neck and he bit and kissed the soft flesh sensually, goosebumps erupting along your arms. You whispered his name in the darkness that blanketed over, your sense of sound and touch becoming overstimulating. Hotch’s hands roamed your body like you were a delicate glass sculpture, contrasting the momentum of his hips that bruised your skin.

You could feel the intensity building, and your body beginning to buzz when Hotch suddenly pulled out from you to flip you over violently. You smacked down on the bed again like you had before, a playfully shocked giggle erupted from your belly. Your feet felt heavy over the edge of the mattress from the shoes you still had on. Hotch leaned down, stroking his rough hands along your legs from your ankle to your hips before dragging your hips even closer to the edge. He brought his hand to the back of your knee, bending it before he once again entered you with a delicious burn.

Your hands reached up cupping the back of your neck to pull him closer to you, his damp forehead resting against yours. Your rings felt ice cold against his burning skin. You could see, barely in the blue black darkness, his chest beginning to become red. His hands, although rough, were beginning to feel clammy but you hadn’t minded not one bit; completely enthralled and aroused in his touch.

You could feel the sweat building between the valley of your breasts. Your back is heating up from the thickness of the sheets that you laid upon. Even more so obvious when you felt the contrasting cold air that swept between when you arched you back in pleasure.

“Aaron,” you whispered.

“What do you need?” he asked you.

“Kiss me, Aaron,” you begged.

Without hesitation, his lips found yours in a feverous kiss. Your noses bumping against one another blocking your abilities to breath; but with the heightened passion shared between, breathing seemed impractical in a moment like this. Your breasts grazed softly against his chest, your nipples hardening with the friction as he moved swiftly and roughly above you.

You moaned in the kiss as did he. Your center pulsing, practically sucking him in with each thrust of his hips. The sounds of sex bounced off the walls. The bed squeaked beneath you; Hotch’s hips rutted into you with no particular rhythm. You hand came down from his neck to grip the sheets and you moaned and whined louder and louder as you inched closer and closer to your climax. Hotch breathed heavily above you before dipping head to your neck. Suddenly, without any warning, his hands roughly grab your wrists pinning your arms above your head.

“Keep them here, sweetheart,” he groaned, before standing straight up again to roughly grab your hips. His fingers dug into your soft skin, bound to bruise the next morning. His hips snapped in and out, in and out, harder and faster than anyone has ever fucked you before. You squealed and whimpered in ecstasy, pleasure. Your thighs squeezing tightly around his hips desperately holding back to climax.

“Fuck!” His voice was low and guttural.

“I can’t hold it anymore; can I come, please?” he begged, he reached for your calf pulling your leg over his shoulder. His mouth instantly kissed and bit like he was a rutting animal.

“Shit! Yes, yes!” you egged him on. Your climax spilling over, waiting for that little drop of water that would break the dam of pleasure. And once you both reach the highest point, your hands grab at each other desperately searching for some stability of any kind to guide through the crashing waves of bliss. His body slumped forward damn near crushing you beneath his strong body.

“Holy shit,” you sighed, laughter escaping your lips as you felt your entire body and mind buzz with nirvana. No man had ever fucked you that good and you were a little upset that it was over. Unbeknownst to you, Hotch didn’t have any plans of ending your pleasure; at least for tonight. With heavy eyes and a devilish smile, Hotch slid down your body, placing both of your legs over his shoulders with every intention of wearing you out tonight.

…

You stood in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror with a drunken smile you hadn’t seen in years. You were completely naked. Your makeup ran down your face and your hair was practically a bird’s nest, and yet you stared at yourself with admiration. Hours had passed, every inch of clothing ripped or discarded on the bedroom floor of this man. Your shoes were long gone by this point and you felt your face becoming warm knowing you’d never wear those shoes again without thinking about tonight.

You had taken a quick shower, since Hotch had let you. He left you with a couple of garments he put aside for you to make sure you felt comfortable. You walked under the shower, letting the hot water engulf you and clean you. You looked around for the first and noticed the small toys in the corner of the bath. You stepped out and saw the small green and blue toothbrush beside another larger toothbrush that was also green and blue. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself.

You walked back to the bedroom quickly seeing Hotch sitting peacefully on the bed typing away on his phone in the soft warm light beside him. The small puddle of light allows you to better look at him. He looked so handsome and calm, so different from the harsh fluorescent lights of that interrogation room and the blinding colored LEDs from tonight. He looked up at you smiling when his eyes met yours. He chuckled seeing how different you looked now than when you had when he first saw you days ago; hours ago. You climbed into the bed, instantly snuggling into his side like a cat. Your lips kissing and biting playfully along his jawline.

“How old is your son?” you asked quietly. Hotch raised an eyebrow to look at you, he usually kept Jack’s room closed and his toys put neatly away.

“You’re going to be an excellent profiler,” he commented.

“You're not wrong but also you have matching toothbrushes in the bathroom and rubber duckies in the corner of the tub,” you remarked, giggling.

“Right. That would be the obvious answer,” he chuckled.

“He’s 10; I’m going to pick him up from his aunt’s place tomorrow afternoon,” he told you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair by then,” you told him, sinking lower beneath the sheets ready to sleep.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind it all. You can stay as long as you like,” he whispered. He craved those little domestic moments again that he had been missing for years. He knew he was crazy for thinking about moments like that, moments of you meeting Jack and whatnot despite only knowing you for such a little time, but he was starving for that kind of intimacy again. He will start thinking rationally again when he wakes tomorrow.

“I think you ought to take me to dinner first before I meet your kid,” you joked.

“I can do that,” he said seriously.

“Really?” you challenged.

“Yes, let me take you out to dinner next Friday,” he offered.

“And if you’re working? If you have to leave?” you questioned.

“Well, you’ll be coming with us, won’t you?” he grinned.

“Oh, right. Ok, then it’s a date, SSA Hotchner,” you smiled widely before pulling him in a kiss.

“You’re the only one who can call me, Aaron.”

“You swear?” you laughed.

“I swear.”

#criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #hotch x reader #hotch smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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mappingthesky · 2 days

Note

not a prompt necessarily but I’m always down for planymphia angst 🙏🙏🙏

in response to multiple asks i’ve received for planymphia angst… here is this <3

i know baby, no attachment

None of this had been in the plan.

It was the first thing they’d talked about that first night in Jane’s apartment; Neither of them were looking for anything serious. They were both unavailable, incapable of making any promises. Not now. Not yet. It would be clean, simple, no strings attached. Just two people using each other. Innocently, admittedly using each other, but using each other nonetheless.

They’d been on the couch in Jane’s dimly lit apartment. Jane was an obvious sort of gorgeous. It was the first thing Nymphia had noticed about her, what drew her in on that first night they’d met: she’d been wearing something meant to lure you in, hypnotized by the clinging of her clothes to her body, the wave of her hair, her eyes tightlined and sharpened like knives. Jane was almost lethal to look at, all done up and primed to kill; the most magnetic friend-of-a-friend Nymphia had ever been introduced to. She was somehow even more gorgeous now, sitting on the couch in her casual clothes, her face aglow in the light of the television, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy top knot. She was painfully, effortlessly attractive, and, much to Nymphia’s surprise, only so much of a smooth talker. She came off suave at first, all punchlines and quick remarks, but after a while Nymphia could start to see her thinking. Jane would be in the middle of a sentence, flying through it, hurtling towards some revelation, and then she’d catch herself. She’d pause, freeze on a word and scoff at it, like she was considering whether whatever she was about to say would be worth the sentiment. And then she’d go a bit shy, averting her eyes and playing with the pilling on the upholstery, giving away just how carefully considered she was. And just when Nymphia was starting to think that Jane was completely nervous to her core, that Nymphia might actually have the upper hand in this situation, Jane would bring it back. She’d pick her head up and let the words go, say something so stunningly direct and devastating. It left Nymphia a little breathless, a little too endeared, a little too eager to kiss her.

They could have guessed at the chemistry, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

What happened when Jane’s skin hit Nymphia was the sort of collision that produced suns and planets and supernovas, flinging particles off into space with enough pressure to form entire worlds. Nymphia could practically see the stars behind her eyes, fluttering shut when Jane was hovering above her, hand between her legs, finding some undiscovered place that Nymphia didn’t know had been there all along, waiting to be found. Jane turned Nymphia’s body into something more than it was before, transforming her irrevocably. Jane was a comet crashing through her atmosphere, and Nymphia was awe-struck, staring at the sky and watching the sparks shower. You can’t be prepared for such life-altering things, it's what makes them so devastating.

What neither of them could have predicted was the ease of what came after - the lying in bed, talking about it. The debrief. Nymphia was a bit too happily fucked, and unwilling to share the extent of her satisfaction. She was worried she would come off easy, inexperienced somehow. Jane, however, was endlessly attentive. She wanted Nymphia’s experience of the encounter, all the details - what she liked, what satisfied her the most, what she wanted more of. Her sheer desire to please was enough to pull the details out of Nymphia. She was rewarded when Jane allowed her to relive it, this time through Jane’s eyes. Jane’s gaze was far off with remembering, a smile playing at her lips as she recounted her experience of Nymphia in such erotic detail, every telling arch and shudder, and the whole thing was so overwhelmingly flattering that it sort of made Nymphia want to do it all over again.

Nymphia had known better than to pack an overnight bag. She thought she had, anyway.

Her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep when she’d mumbled, ‘I should be going soon.”

Jane just chuckled. “You’re half asleep already.” Her fingers trailed up the curve of Nymphia’s thigh. “Just spend the night. If you want to.”

Nymphia's eyes were suddenly open, “Yeah?” Jane traced stars onto her hip.

“Mhm,” Jane hummed, eyes flickering up, then back to the curve of Nymphia’s waist.

Nymphia closed her eyes, savored in the feeling of Jane on her skin. A long moment passed.

“D’you cuddle? Or is that against the rules.”

Jane’s hum was an amused look at you asking so soon. She was already pulling Nymphia to her chest.

That first night turned into a three-day sleepover, because of course it did. Nymphia and Jane stretched themselves over the long arc of the weekend, sharing the sort of welcome, unexpected ease that you can’t put down, the kind that you’ll happily destroy your routine over and resign yourself to picking up the pieces after the fact. One weekend became another, and then occasional nights at Nymphia’s apartment with the door shut and her duvet crumpled at the end of the bed. And then they added the weekday rendezvous: Nymphia meeting Jane at her place after work on Thursday evenings, promising not to keep her up late and failing miserably, leaning her head on Jane’s shoulder in the morning as she locked the door on her way out. And then Nymphia was bleeding into Jane’s week, her Tuesdays and Wednesdays, her breakfasts and dinners, her late-night ice cream cravings and subsequent walks to 7-11. And then it was all too regular: Nymphia and Jane, Jane and Nymphia.

It's been a few months now, and there are so many things Nymphia loves about Jane.

She loves how Jane drives with one hand on her thigh, or with her fingers in her mouth. How she looks over to the passenger seat with that special look that's reserved just for Nymphia, and makes her feel like the only person she's ever wanted. She loves how she listens to her music loud, sings along when she’s drunk and tossing her hair, or when it's Sunday morning and she’s at the stove and there’s a record spinning in the living room. Nymphia loves how unabashed Jane is, how bold. How she never hesitates when it comes to the people in her life, how to be loved by Jane is to be fiercely defended by her. Nymphia loves how Jane kisses her in the middle of her sentences, especially when she's talking too much. She loves that Jane is so rough. How she can fuck her like she hates her. She loves how Jane can be so tender. How she can fuck her soft and slow, as reverent as religion. How Jane can make a mess of her, then put her back together again.

There are so many things Nymphia hates.

She hates that Jane is so impulsive, how she strikes so thoughtlessly, how she has to return to the wounds later to draw the venom out of them. How Jane is so stubborn, so set in her ways, so inflexible. How there’s two Janes - the one she’s with now, the one she is around her friends. The one who doesn’t kiss her, hardly touches her aside from a possessive arm around her shoulder or a tap on her knee. How the real Jane, Nymphia’s Jane, emerges as soon as they’re alone together, the one who will see her downturned gaze on the way home and coo what can I do, princess? Hmm? What can I do to see that pretty smile? Nymphia hates that she forgives Jane so easily, that she crumbles every time, that she loves Jane completely and entirely and beyond any measure of hurt that she could unknowingly inflict upon her.

She hates that she’s still sitting at this party, long after Jane promised they’d leave. She hates that Jane’s friends clearly like her; they laugh at Nymphia’s jokes, compliment her shoes, send knowing glances and winks across the room every time Jane so much as mentions her name. She hates how, when they ask what they are, Jane is all too quick to brush them off.

It's obvious that Nymphia’s upset by the way she pounds up the stairs, by the way she wordlessly digs through her purse for her keys, by the way the anger and the hurt and the disappointment emanate from her like poison.

“I just can’t believe they asked that,” Jane scoffs. Nymphia says nothing, gritting her teeth as she turns the key in the lock.

It should be obvious, but Jane is a bit too self-absorbed to notice.

“Like, we don’t even know what we are,” Jane says, and Nymphia feels sick, because she thought she did. “Why would she put me on the spot like that? In front of everyone?”

Nymphia pushes into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen.

“I mean, it was weird, right?” Jane continues, relentless. “Why do they need to know so bad?”

“Yeah,” Nymphia’s voice is hard, laced with venom. She chucks her keys onto the counter with a little too much force. “Why would they?”

“Right,” Jane doesn’t notice. “It would be nice if they could just let us-“

“I don’t know why they could possibly be so confused.” Nymphia interrupts, working off her thigh-highs.

Jane misses a beat. “Wait. Are you-“

“I can’t fucking imagine why they’d think that we’re together.” Nymphia lets her boots drop to the floor, one gut-wrenching smack after the other.

Jane blinks, brows knit together. Nymphia straightens up, fumbles with things on the counter that don’t need to be fumbled with. “Are you upset about this?”

“Why would I be upset?” Nymphia picks up a stray mug, sets it down again. “You just told all of your friends that we’re nothing serious. Why would I ever be upset about that, Jane?”

“I didn’t say that, Nymph,” Jane starts, already on the defense. “I said that we’re something.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” Nymphia scoffs. “We’re something. Let me know when you’re ready to illuminate me on whatever the fuck that means, Jane.”

Jane recoils at Nymphia’s profanity, unfamiliar with her frustration. She’s never seen her like this- so hurt, so ready to retaliate.

It's not funny. Jane shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t, but she’s viscerally uncomfortable and horrifically unprepared for this situation, so she does anyways. “Are you really angry about this?”

The whole thing is white hot and embarrassing, and Nymphia has tears in her eyes when she turns and whips her purse to the floor.

Jane jumps. “What the fuck?” She’s wide-eyed, both hands held up in shock. “Nymphia. Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know Jane,” Nymphia bites. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you might be,” Nymphia steps over her bag. “Y’know, because you cut me a key to your fucking apartment. I thought maybe that constituted we were more than,” she curls her fingers in the air, “something”.

Jane shakes her head, jaw tight and temple pulsing. When she speaks, it's in a lower voice, almost ashamed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about it!” Nymphia’s voice cracks, a desperate wail. Jane’s mouth opens, already halfway towards defending herself until she looks at Nymphia and sees her bottom lip quivering, the spilling over of her tears. Jane looked back with a concerned, almost panicked expression, lips frozen and slightly parted.

“Do you love me, Jane? Do you even fucking like me?”

Nymphia surprises herself with the question. She’s so amped up, so high on adrenaline that she lets it all out- the culmination of weeks of words she’d bitten back, suddenly pouring forth from where they’d been collecting in a lump in her throat.

“No, seriously, do you? Because I can’t fucking tell. I think you do, because- because you say all these beautiful things, and you spend so much time with me, and you take such good fucking care of me. So you must fucking love me, right? But when your friends ask, I have to sit there and listen to you tell them that we’re something. Like it’s so fucking confusing to you. Like it's a goddamn secret. Do you know what that feels like?”

Nymphia is fully pacing now, walking the length of the kitchen over and over again. Jane follows her with wincing, pained eyes.

What Nymphia hates, more than anything, is that she doesn’t hate Jane at all. Not for any of it.

“I’m fucking in love with you, Jane, alright?” Nymphia whines, hands whipping through the air with frustration. “I’m so in love with you, and everybody fucking knows it. Your friends, my friends, my mom, everyone! But no one seems to have any goddamn clue if you love me too. And you know what? I’m not sure if I do, either.”

When she finally expels the last of the words from the hole in her heart, Nymphia looks up through her tears. She can barely stomach the sight of Jane, lips parted and wordless, unsure of what to do with the outpouring of Nymphia’s heart. She stares at her, eyes twisted in pain, then looks to the ground, like Nymphia’s words have slid off her and collected in a puddle at her feet. Nymphia just cries, a pained and exhausted whimper on her lips as she pushes past Jane and into the living room. She collapses on one end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind one hand, hot tears sliding down her cheeks and into her mouth.

Jane stands in the center of the room with her back turned, still facing the phantom of Nymphia’s words that may very well haunt her kitchen forever. Her head is spinning, because how the fuck did this happen. Nymphia is openly sobbing behind her, and the sound is so gut-wrenching that Jane is nauseated.

Nymphia makes a horrible, shuddering gasp for air and Jane finally breaks, crossing the room and dropping to her knees on the floor where Nymphia sits. She doesn’t even look at her, just sobs, and Jane can physically feel her heart fucking breaking.

“Nymphia,” she says, placing her palm on Nymphia’s knee. “Nymph. Hey.”

Nymphia shakes her head, face contorted with tears. She flinches at Jane’s hand like it fucking hurts, and Jane winces as the guilt slices through her. She exhales a sharp puff of defeat and drops her head in hurt.

Nymphia just cries and cries, and the reality of the situation sinks in Jane’s stomach with every sob. She’s sick to her stomach with concern, worried that Nymphia might actually fucking hyperventilate, and then she’s gently begging the girl to breathe. She goes to reach for Nymphia again and pauses, scared to reach out, scared to hurt Nymphia, scared that she’ll recoil from her again. It’s then that Jane knows, for the first time in all of her life, what she wants. She knows, right as it threatens to slip out of her hands.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jane hears her own voice. Her words hang in the air for a moment, floating like smoke between Nymphia’s shaky, shattered breaths. Jane looks up.

“This,” she says, a tentative hand on Nymphia’s knee. “What you and I have. I’ve never-”

The words are hard for Jane to stomach. They don’t pour out like Nymphia’s do. They catch in her throat, feel wrong in her mouth. She’s not sure they’ll be enough.

“I’ve never had this with anyone,” she says. “I’ve never wanted to. Not until now.”

Nymphia wipes at her eyes, shudders a bit as her breathing quiets.

“I, um,” Jane glances down, scared to look. “I don’t know how.”

Nymphia finally looks at Jane, so small and nervous and crumbling at her feet. She wants to take her hand, to show her, to be endlessly patient even if it kills her. The desire is so enormous, even now. She almost hates herself for it.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Jane says to the floor, her voice tiny and wavering. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“I just need to know,” Nymphia whispers.

Nymphia swallows hard, and then Jane looks up and its so fucking harrowing, so moving, because Nymphia can see the guilt in her eyes, the desire, the glimmer of words she can’t figure out how to say. She watches as she considers, catches herself, lets it go.

“I do.” Jane says. Nymphia’s heart plummets, because she knows what she means.

“I don’t want to say it now,” Jane says. “I don’t want it to be an apology. I want you to know I mean it. Is that okay?”

Nymphia nods and Jane mutters over and over I do, I do, you know I do.

It's beautiful and tragic and overwhelming, and Nymphia wants to crash into Jane, to merge together and surpass the need for words entirely. It's too soon to know yet if it's for better or for worse, only that she does it - that she reaches out and takes Jane’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, a bit of Jane laughing at herself. “But I want to try.”

Nymphia just nods and feels more tears streaming down her cheeks, and Jane’s crying too, and then they’re crashing into each other. Nymphia is leaning down and throwing her arms around Jane, who is sitting forward and clinging to her like she’s scared to let her go. Like she caught a shooting star in her bare fucking hands.

It's a whisper against her hair, but Nymphia hears it. “Can I try again?”

Nymphia could hate herself for it for all of forever. She’s prepared to. Jane doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn't either. Nymphia nods anyway.

It's a new world, one of their own making. It's unexplored, uncharted, and they’re venturing into it together, hand in shaking hand. It's dangerous. She’s doing it anyway. She might hate herself for it. It might be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

#take a shot every time jane says something 3 times in a row in one of my fics #also. too many commas. AND WHAT ABOUT IT #i just want you to know i’ve had this one in mind for literal weeks #and i had it in my drafts on AO3 AND I FUCKING LET IT EXPIRE #AND THE WAY I HAD TO WRITE THIS FROM MEMORY…#i love u guys. u better be grateful <3 #WOOOO ANGSTY #with a hopeful ending #because i am sooooo nice ::)#prompt #she writes #planymphia #chappell roan inspired OFC #shoutout 2 my muse also. u inspire me #but not with angst. just with ur brilliance #OK BYE

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speedycoffeedelight · 1 day

Text

An Animalistic Disaster

CH-19 : A Deer Vs Wolves

Masterlist

Summery :Where you get your ass saved from being almost killed.

*Some time after you left*

Alastor and Niffty was sitting outside the cabin, lazily enjoying each others company. Niffty had turned into a human and leaned against Alastor's body. Alastor, even though he hated dogs,he has learned to at least tolerate Niffty's presence. That doesn't mean he allowed her to stay close to him in her full dog form. That form irked him.

"Hey Alastor.." Niffty finally broke the silence. "Do you think you'll ever transform?"

'Of course I will. Why would you doubt that?'

"Because what if you don't like (Y/n) ever? You need to like her so you can be human again."

Alastor scoffed and looked away. ' Don't you worry your little head about it. I will find a way somehow. I am the radio demon after all.'

Niffty still wasn't convinced as she looked into the distance again. "You know, she's likes you a lot! We talk about you sometimes."

That got his attention. He turned his head towards Niffty again. 'What did you guys talk about? It better not be something to tarnish my reputation my dear!'

" That's girl's talk silly. I can't tell you that! " Niffty chuckled with both hands covering her mouth. Alastor rolled his eyes at such a display ."But I can tell that she really likes you."

'We know that already. That isn't something new. I'm used to ladies fawning over me.' Alastor thought back to his time as a human in the 19's. Indeed, despite his colour back then, women would throw themselves at him nonchalantly. It was both a blessing and a curse for him. Blessing since it helped his popularity grow, curse since he hated those type of contacts. This lowered a lot after he became an overlord. People were far to afraid to approach him then.

"Yes but she's different. She might like you but she'll never push herself onto you. You're rumoured to be asexual and she respects that."

'I'm a what now?'

"Asexual!" Niffty repeated herself. "Don't you know what it is?"

'I'm afraid not dear. Is it one of those modern slangs?'

"Of course not! Let me explain what it is then."

And thus Niffty spent almost an hour and a half explaining different types of sexualities to him, including asexuality. It took a lot of tries to get Alastor to properly understand the concept.

' So you mean to say, that it's normal to not want to engage in such activities? My, all this time I thought I just hadn't found the right girl for me to have those desires. Or worse, there was something wrong with me...' Alastor's smile faltered a bit. It was crazy how times had changed. Normally he didn't like such changes but this was one of the better ones.

'Of course, not that I mind about having something wrong within me. Haha! I am a serial killer after all.' His smile came back as quickly as it disappeared, not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of someone. He supposed he could admire your respect about his boundaries too. Unlike those other girls in his past, you actually cared to make him comfortable, no matter how much you liked him. It made him feel a bit....warm inside.

He spent the next few hours just chatting with Niffty. As sun began to set, Vaggie came over to the pair.

"Hey, (Y/n) hasn't returned yet. It's already getting late. She said she'd be back before sunset. Have any of you guys seen her?"

Niffty and Alastor looked at each other and shook their head. "No...we haven't. We've just been chatting here all afternoon." Vaggie sighed, worry immenent in her face. "I see... sorry for bothering you then."

As Vaggie went back to the cabin, she couldn't help but think about what might have happened to you. You were an adult human. You could handle a night out yourself. Still worries begun to rush in one after another.

"Alastor...you don't think something happened to her do you?" Before Alastor could reply, a howl broke through the night. Both Niffty and Alastor's ears perked up. A blue light caught in the corner of their eyes. Whipping their head towards it, they strangely found a bright blue butterfly that was seemingly glowing in the dark.

Just like you before, they couldn't help but follow it. It felt like it was the right course of action. Though they couldn't tell why. They began to chase after the butterfly at full speed as it was rushing through the forest. Niffty had already transformed into her dog form to run faster.

Soon Niffty picked up scent of something. It was blood. There a familiar scent with it. Your scent.

Niffty's eyes widened with the realization as she shouted at Alastor to let him know. Soon enough, they were able to hear faint growls, snarls from distant. What really made their heart almost stop was the low moaning of you.

You tried. You really tried to hold on by yourself as long as you could while trying to find find a way to escape. You picked up a nearby branch you found to defend against this horde of wolf that were dead set on eating you.

But there were only much you can do. After some time, you were bleeding all over, barely standing. A wolf's claw teared a big slash on your back. Another one almost teared your leg off before you gave it a good punch. There were small scratchs and bite marks all over. The blood coming out from all over your body was starting to harden on your clothes.

It was hurting to stand already as your body reached it's limit. You collapsed on your knees as the bloody branch you were holding fell down with a thud. You couldn't do this, not anymore. It all hurt too much. You felt tears pricking at your eyes as you thought of your inevitable death. Would there even be anything left of your body after these wolves finished eating you? How much would it...hurt?

A wolf jumped on you, teeths bared to finally consume your sweet flesh. It's teeth were only a few inches above your face as you closed you eyes. Suddenly something small but fierce jumped onto its neck from a side and bit onto it, pushing it to the ground. A sickening crunch followed soon after.

You opened your eyes warrily a little. Your vision was still blurry so you couldn't see clearly. Judging by the sound of the small thing...it was probably a dog. It looked back at you and transformed.

"(Y/n)!.......okay?? We'll...out..here.."

You couldn't hear her words clearly. You saw a big black figure rush through and stand in front of you protectively while facing the wolfs. Did they come to protect you? If so, you could rest a little right? You finally collapsed and shut your eyes.

Your head fell down on Niffty's lap as she shook you to keep you awake. 'Niffty my dear! Focus on protecting (Y/n) and getting her back to the cabin. I'll deal with the wolves!'

Alastor shouted out while looking forward at the canines. It was clear the wolves remembered him just as he did, increasing their anger tenfold. His consciousness was shouting at him to run. He doesn't need to do this. You weren't worth risking his life for. But against his better judgement he was still standing here, between you and these vicious animals.

One of the wolfs lunged forward as he quickly moved out of the way and pierced it with his antlers. But another one quickly followed and bit behind him. He kicked it off him as fresh trail of blood flew from his body.

"Alastor! Her conditions getting worse!" Niffty said screaming. "She'll die if we don't do something about it!"

Alastor knew that already. Niffty didn't have to spell it out for him to know how dire your situation is. He only gritted his teeth. No matter how much he thought, he couldn't think of a way out. It seemed like you understood that as well.

"L..eave..me..go.."

You choked out with the last of your breath before blacking out. Alastor pulled his ears back. You remained ever the good girl till your last drop of consciousness. Always sacrificing yourself for others sake. How admiring....

It's not like that thought didn't cross his mind. Leaving you here should be the wise course of action here. Yet why did did he feel so....bad? Is it because he lived with you all this time? Or when he saw how careful you are with touching him when you were stitching? Or the things Niffty told him about you this afternoon? He wasn't sure. He knew if he returned without you, everyone would shun him out.

"Haha...." He chuckled bitterly at himself. Perhaps you have began to make an effect on him. Whatever happens, he decided,

He was going to stay by your side.

Golden light shone brightly along his body, blinding the wolves that were about to approach him. Alastor looked at his hands. "Finally... about time..."

Suddenly a familiar blue light shone in the corner of Niffty's eyes. Turning her head towards it she saw the butterfly again. It was sitting on top of a carcass. Wait no, it was sitting on top of a handle. A handle that sparkled brightly from the moonlight radiating of it now. It was (Y/n)'s knife, Niffty recognised.

Looking around, when she saw no wolves close by she chased to it. The butterfly flew away again into the distance as she arrived. Niffty picked up the knife in a swift motion. "Alastor! Catch!"

Alastor eye's darted towards Niffty's voice that wasn't behind him anymore. He was about to scold her for leaving you alone but held his tongue when he saw the sparkle of a knife shine in her hands before she threw it at him. He caught it effortlessly in his right hand. As soon as she threw it, she ran back to you and scratched at a wolf that was threatening to come too close for comfort while growling.

Alastor was bleeding from his forehead and multiple gashes from all over his body. But he felt newfound strength flow through him as soon as he held the knife. Ah, he missed this, this thrill of the hunt. He had a crazed expression on his face as he looked over at the wolves standing before him now. The ears on his head perked up as it sensed a wolf coming in closer. Just as it launched he moved out of the way and cut a big slash across it's neck and kicked it away. The wolf's now limp and dead body fell onto the ground beside you and Niffty.

"Come on, it's time to play, puppies..."

On the other hand, everyone was worried sick at the cabin. Angel found the bag you left at the edge of the forest and brought it home.

"What if something bad happened to her... Vaggie I'm scared!"

"Clam down toots! I'm sure she's fine.... probably..." Angel looked away, not being convinced by his very own statement.

"We cannot find Alastor and Niffty either. If Niffty was here, maybe she could have sniffed (Y/n) out." Pentious pointed at his nose. Husk took a gulp of orange juice you had since alcohol was gone. You really needed to stock up on some alcohol.

"What if we all go find 'er?" Cherri proposed. "She should be around somewhere here right? Since her bag was found close, she should be close as well."

"We... could do that...but what if we get lost? It'll take forever for everyone to get back together again." Vaggie looked at everyone present. "But it'll be our last choice, if she or Alastor or Niffty doesn't come back within half an hour. We're going out."

The fight was going much better then before. Alastor easily transformed between deer and human befitting of the situation. He could stab a wolf with a knife and then toss it in the air and kick another in its shin after transforming. Then again collect the knife after becoming human. It was fun.

But this couldn't go on forever. He knew that from the fatigue coursing through his body. He had to end this quickly while the adrenaline was still present. After some more slashes and stomps, he remained the only one standing in a field of fresh corpses.

He didn't have time to celebrate his victory. As soon as the last wolf was down, he quickly returned to you. The black stripes of his dress has been painted red with both his blood and the animals. He crouched down to inspect your pulse. It was weak, but you still had it. Alastor let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.

Alastor put the knife away in his pocket. He softly picked you up in his arms, careful not to put too much pressure on the cuts of your body. His own body was hurting severely, but he needed to be strong for your sake.

"Niffty, run back to the cabin and tell Vaggie to come immediately. And also bring someone to help carry her quickly. I'll be right behind you."

Niffty nodded her head and began sprinting towards your cabin. Alastor looked at your face with a soft gaze. He leaned down and whispered, "Stay strong my dear. You'll be fine, I promise.." With a final breath he began heading towards the cabin as moonlight shone on both of you.

Perhaps because he was so caught up to save you, he didn't notice a pair eyes watching the whole thing.

"Interesting...."

By the time Niffty reached the cabin, she found all of them standing outside, ready to depart in search of you. Their eyes widened seeing Niffty with blood on her dress.

"NIFFTY WHAT HAPPENED??"

It didn't take long enough for Vaggie to reach Alastor with Niffty alongside to guide her. Alastor gave a small smile towards the crowd as they collectively gasped seeing the both of you. Without wasting a moment, you were transferred on the back of Husk as Vaggie cast her healing. Alastor was about to fall down but Pentious caught him just in time.

"Hang onto me!" Pentious took one of Alastor's hands and slid it over his shoulder to support him. Vaggie kept casting her healing all the way to the cabin as Charlie started to cry. You were placed in your room with Vaggie, Charlie and Cherri. They changed your bloody cloths and cleaned you up first. Only then the boys were allowed to come.

Alastor on the other hand was placed on the lounge in the other room with only Niffty and Husk. Niffty sew up all the cuts and scratches he had and Husk just stood in a corner watching. Alastor wasn't comfortable with showing anyone else his bare body.

After that was done Alastor laid down on the lounge with a cover on his body as Angel walked in and popped next to him sighing and started a smoke.

" How's....(Y/n)?" Alastor found himself asking while looking at the ceiling. He didn't want to appear too worried for you, yet he could help but be anxious. " She'll live. Vaggie's doin all she can to save her." Angel took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke. "But what exactly happened? Why was she in that forest and how did you two find her?"

Alastor and Niffty began to tell their tale from when they found the butterfly to Niffty seeing the butterfly on the knife to Alastor carrying you. He skipped the part of his determination to protect you though. But he greatly told the tale of him slaughtering the wolves with great detail that left Angel's stomach turning.

" That butterfly...do ya think it could be a demon like us?"

"It's very much possible. It certainly wasn't any normal butterfly. But how did it gain the power to control us? I don't think any of us had any power like that."

" What if it's something entirely different from us? " Niffty jumped in.

" That would certainly explain this phenomenon. Though we can't really be sure. To know about it properly we need that butterfly. But that isn't a safe choice considering what happened today. "

A silence befell the room once again as Cherri slipped into the room. She took a sit next to Angel. "Vaggie's working her magic right now. If she wasn't here, not sure what woulda happened to her."

" Yeah...also smiles, ya transformed..." Angel said with a toothed grin looking back at him. He had deep curly brown hair and light brown skin. Two fluffy deer ears stayed atop his head. His glasses which were drowning in blood when they first saw him was cleaned again and sitting on his face. Plus Angel could swear he saw a brown tail poking out from behind Alastor's dress when Pentious carried him back.

Alastor's amber coloured eyes scanned Angel's face. He knew exactly what Angel was trying to get at.

" So ya do have feelings for-"

" None of that! "

" But you needed to have intense feelings

to transform ~"

" I merely wished to protect her that's

all. If I came without her you all would have scorned me."

" Same thing!"

With Alastor transforming, it meant the whole crew was human once again. Things should be a lot easier now.

" Also...does (Y/n) know about this? That

we need to have feelings for her to

transform? "

" Obviously not. We all collectively agreed to keep this a secret from her."

The night went by rather quickly. Before Alastor knew it, he was falling asleep. The fatigue and the effects of blood loss finally caught up to him.

You opened your eyes the next day at afternoon. The first thing you realised that almost every part of you hurt. With a huff and a grunt you pushed yourself up a bit. Vaggie was sleeping lying her head on the bed and and her hands on your torso. Charlie was asleep on the desk on the other side of the room. Angel came in with a plate of food and he let out a scream seeing you awake. He quickly put the food down on the table and rushed to you.

Apparently Vaggie has been healing you nonstop throughout the night, she pushed her body to her limit and passed out around the morning . Charlie was the same, she used her ability to smoothly clean your cuts and remove branches stuck to you. Your eyes widened hearing about Alastor.

" Alastor? Where is he?"

" He's fine, he's in the other room. Do you want me to call him to you?"

" Yes, him and everyone else. I want to know what exactly happened..."

Alastor wore one of Pentious's shirt's for now. He and others soon joined in your room. You made sure to talk quietly so you didn't wake up the sleeping girls. They deserve to rest.

"That butterfly....that damn butterfly is the reason behind all this.."

"But I don't understand one thing." Pentious looked lost in throught with a hand on his chin. "Why would that butterfly bring you both to danger and then help you fight back?"

"To know that we need to be in contact with it. But there's no need to rush considering what happened."

You sighed loudly, all that matters that all of you were still in one piece. You'll have to take a few days off from your work to recover. You'll ask your colleague to cover for you. He owes you one anyway for the time you secured him a date with his crush.

That being said, you finally looked at Alastor properly. This guy was handsome as fuck. His brown locks fell onto his bandaged forehead in a lazy manner. His honey eyes locked into yours as he felt you staring at him. You quickly averted your gaze, but you knew that he knew you were staring. A smirk formed on his face as he leaned in close to you.

"Don't I get a thank you for saving you back there, my darling?"

You let out a small yelp and whipped your head towards him. Then again backed your face away when you found his face inches apart from yours. When did he get so damn close?

"Yes uh, thank you..for saving me back there."

Alastor's grin just got wider seeing your flustered expression. He booped your nose as you blinked in confusion.

"Dear don't think I forgot all the things you did and said when I was stuck as a deer. I promise to pay back every.last.bit."

You couldn't help but gulp in the way he said it. Plus the intensity of his stare just added to this making you feel like fainting for the second time now. Just what did you get yourself into?

"Yeah, smiles ya gotta back up a bit. If Vaggie was awake she'd chew your ass up."

"Don't worry, I won't bother her too much. Rest assured my friend."

Something clicked into you just then. Today's the day you've been waiting for a long time. Hazbin hotel season one has officially been released!

"Guys, wake Charlie and Vaggie up again! We have your future to watch!"

A.n: Sorry for the long wait. College has been straining all my energy and will to live (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

This was one of the main scenarios that has been on my mind since the beginning of the fanfic. I had to start writing a whole ass story to make it understandable lol.

Also guys! GUYS!! I GOT FANARTS!!! LOOK AT THIS!!

These two were the first ones that got sent. It's Vox as the blue butterfly. Man I love his suit 🫠🫠

The second was this, our two girls!! Charlie and Vaggie both in their animal and human forms!! Also there's our first ever transformation moment~

Y'all remember the iconic moment of Husk putting on our shirt? 🥹🥹 They drew this!!! And there's our cutiepie Niffty and Mr. Precious!!

Man I can't believe my silly little fanfic inspired someone to draw fanarts!!! God I was so thrilled!! All of these wonderful fanrts are drawn by @/ Little_Wonders7 (twitter) @littlewonders7 (Tumblr) thank you again!!!

As for who the butterfly actually is....I think this will disappoint a lot of you..

Yes, tis I, your own author. Or the Hazbinfication animal of your author. I couldn't think of any way to bring reader back to the forest where the transformation was supposed to take place. So I forced a reason by placing myself there.(⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

This conversation is a thought I had while putting myself there so I decided to draw it.

A clue about this was on my twitter account where there's a blue butterfly on my pinned plus my profile. Shout-out to "sdsblogmainblog" to be the only one to get it!! I feel sorry to everyone who came up with cool theories on who the butterfly could be (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

Also no, the pair of eyes watching Alastor and reader was not the butterfly and DW I won't interfere in the story much.

And the winner of the voting issss

🎊VOX🎊

Vox had 27 votes on wattpad

0 votes on Tumblr

11 votes on ao3

Total - 38

Velvette had 12 votes on wattpad

3 votes on Tumblr

16 votes on ao3

Total - 31

I wrote "Your vote has been counted" on the votes I collected. So if you guys want, you can recheck. And I'll explain the requirements of a new character arriving in our world in the next chapter since this is already getting long (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Also towards people who are sad velvette lost. I only asked who'll be in the harem, not who'll come into this world. And this goes for every single character. Take this how you will.

Stay tuned folks~

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

49 notes · View notes

chiriwritesstuff · 3 days

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Hometown Glory; Chapter 2 Sneak Peek (Pt. 2)

Series Masterlist │ Read Chapter 1 Here!

Do we want a little flashback? I finally have a chance to sit and write after the chaos that was the last few weeks, I hope you all enjoy this little sneaky peek! Chapter 2 is dropping soon!

Your eyes remain fixed on the glossy surface of Nana's casket, the black reflection staring back at you like a mirror of your own conflicted thoughts and feelings. It's as if you're trying to find solace in the emptiness, to drown out the chaos of emotions swirling inside you with the deafening silence of grief. His voice breaks through the stillness, soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. You can hear the awkwardness in his tone, the uncertainty in his words, as if he's treading on fragile ground, unsure of where to step next. "I heard you graduated last fall," he begins, his voice so soft it's almost a whisper. You nod in response to his question, your gaze still fixed on the casket, the weight of his presence beside you almost suffocating in its intensity. You can feel the tension between you, thick and palpable, like a barrier separating you from the rest of the world. "And you started law school," he continues, his voice betraying a hint of eagerness, a flicker of hope. "I heard about it from Pop—" "I'm surprised you're even here," you say before you can fully process how harsh and how bitter you must sound, like someone who bets on losing dogs, like someone who— "Yeah, well, I got on the red-eye from Tampa after I got the call," he replies, and you swear you can feel his heavy gaze trained on the side of your face, his eyes pleading, begging. "Look, Glo, Bel—" But before you can fully process his words, before you can respond to the flood of conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm you, he reaches out to you, his hand closing around your wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, sparking memories of a time when his touch meant safety, comfort, home. But now, it feels like a betrayal, a reminder of everything that's gone wrong between you, everything that's been left unsaid and unresolved. “I wanted to see you,” he whispers, a slight heave in his chest. “Fuck, Glory, it’s been five fucking years—” And at that moment, you're torn between the desire to push him away, to protect yourself from the pain he represents, and the longing in your heart that yearns for connection, for closure, for something more than this endless cycle of hurt and regret. “Are we really going to do this now?! Right here, in front of—” “Yes, Glo. Right here, right now, right in front of this entire fucking town,” he replies harshly as you strain against his grasp, your strength no match to his. “You wouldn’t see me otherwise, god knows how much I’ve tried… please, Bella—” “Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking dare call me that, Francisco—” “Oh, so it’s like that, then?" he exclaims, his face a mask of stunned hurt, the weight of his words heavy with disbelief. "You disappear without a word, not even a goodbye, and we’re back to square one? Francisco?! Seriously, Bella?! Thirteen years of friendship—" “Well, that’s your name, right?” You spit, your eyes darting around your surroundings as you try to hide your distress. “I remember a time when you would call me Frankie, but that was before you decided that you were too good for this town and everyone who gave a damn about you!” “Well, that’s something a friend would call you, right?” you retort, your voice laced with venom, your eyes finally meeting his gaze. "What would your girlfriend think, Francisco? Did you bring her along for the ride, to my grandmother's fucking funeral?" A throat clears from behind you, and a light tap on your shoulder makes you turn, only to see a figure you never wanted to face again. "Fiancée, actually," Chelsea corrects, her smirk betraying her satisfaction as she steps closer, pulling you into a hug. "I am so sorry for your loss," she whispers against your ear, her fingernails digging into your skin. "Oh, Glory," she coos, "I missed you."

Series Taglist:

@ashleyfilm / @danaispunk / @imdrinkingpedro / @yxtkiwiyxt / @lilyevanstan1325

@kungfucapslock / @critfailroll / @maried01 / @misstokyo7love / @missladym1981

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine / @brittmb115 / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @darkheartgatita / @jupiter-soups

@anoverwhelmingdin

#fic: hometown glory #hometown glory #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #wip #frankie morales #pedro pascal character

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spatialwave · 1 day

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"baby, don't you know? that you're my golden hour."

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x ftm!actor!reader word count: 2.5k summary: being an up-and-coming actor had you fighting tooth and nail for opportunities. you were young, though, still had much to learn and people to impress. you were surprised when cooper howard took it upon himself to mentor you. the cowboy star supported you through thick & thin — a light in your life that reminded you everything would be alright. warnings/tags: sfw, implied transphobia, angst, grief, mention of death, hurt/comfort, fluff. notes: as a transmasc enby, i get very passionate writing ftm!reader stories. this had been sitting in my brain for awhile, so thank you to anon for sending an ask that kicked my ass into gear and write it!

“what do you mean? they told me last week that i had the goddamn job,” your voice was loud and snappy, jaw clenching as you fell back into the chair with a heavy thud, “i did three goddamn auditions and even did a table read, now they’re saying i’m not the right fit? what the hell is that supposed to mean? i put in the fucking work already.”

you were sitting in your agent’s office full of luxury furniture, expensive paintings and the gaudiest decorations. with a red face, you huffed as he explained to you the situation at hand.

your next movie had dropped you as the supporting actor. it would’ve given you enough screen time for it to be your real breakthrough role and shoot you up into the fame and glory you’d been fighting for.

“well,” your agent sighed, leaning forward against his desk, “there’s been word going around about you.”

defensive, you furrowed your brows in confusion, “what word?”

he’d grown uncomfortable, putting one leg over the other as he rested into his chair and thought about what to say next. he needed to be careful with his words, seeing that you had been ready to knock shit off of his desk if he angered you anymore.

“i think you should read this,” he murmured, filtering through papers on his desk until he grabbed a folded newspaper and pushed it toward you.

your heart sank as you snatched the paper, eyes wide and shaky when you read the front page. it was all about you. your deadname was plastered in large text as the article detailed your past that you had gone lengths to keep out of the public eye.

you changed your name, moved away from home and started your transition quietly. you had done everything to make sure that people perceived you the way you wanted.

but life was never that easy.

your eyes settled on a few words, ‘a trusted source confirmed.’ thoughts ran through your mind, thinking of any person who you’d grown up with, family members, ex-friends—anyone who would be willing to spill career-ruining information for a quick lump of cash.

“i had no idea—“ your agent spoke, but you cut him off.

“i was hoping to keep it that way until i was in a damn grave” you said, voice calm but cheeks red and breath heavy, “fuck this.”

there was nothing worth sticking around for, who the hell would want to hire you now? there were too many close-minded people in the world, and you could already imagine the headlines of them lumping you right in with the opposition. a trans, american communist.

fucking christ.

the following week you isolated yourself in your apartment, high-end and expensive. you couldn’t even feel comfortable in your own home because the looming possibility of being unable to pay rent was alive and very real. you stayed in your bed, wondering how on earth you thought you’d be able to careen through life without anyone finding out.

you were lucky that your mother supported you every step of the way when you were a young, confused teen. she helped you navigate your feelings and even urged you to talk to a professional. one year later, you’d started testosterone injections.

she passed three years ago, leaving you with nothing but her memories and the devastating reality that you’d be alone from here on out. you always hoped your secret died with her.

you melted away on your bed as the sound of thunder boomed loudly and shook your apartment, rotting into nothingness. sleep was on the horizon, but you’d been interrupted by a buzzing sound vibrating from your intercom. you didn’t move, keeping your eyes shut tight and hoping the sound would stop.

buzz.

“who is it?” you asked tiredly, pressing your forehead against the buzzer.

“a friend,” a southern voice replied, full of static.

you let go of the button that connected your voice to the intercom at the entrance of your apartment, closing your eyes and wishing that cooper would turn around and leave. His pity was far from what you needed

you were angry at the world, and that included him.

swallowing a lump down your throat, you pressed the door buzzer, feeling it vibrate beneath your finger until you were certain the cooper was inside the apartment and out of the rain.

with a blanket strung over your shoulders, your bare feet padded against the hardwood flooring as you unlocked your door. three locks for safety.

you waited to hear footsteps, your ear pressed against the door while your gazed focused on nothing in particular. a shell of a human was the only way you could describe yourself.

you’d never felt this dark before.

a gentle knock rapped against the wooden door, and you had to force yourself to open it up slowly as the lights from the hallway spilled into your dim apartment. meeting cooper’s gaze left you feeling like the smallest man in the world, even if you were the same height.

“you look like crap, kid,” cooper sighed, getting a good look at you. you hadn’t showered in a couple of days and your stubble had started to grow out. for years, you’d been so meticulous with how you looked, never once letting someone see you less than your best. not even cooper.

“stating the obvious,” you murmured, stepping back to give the older man time to step in. you didn’t bother sticking around for a proper greeting, already heading back to your bed so you could collapse on top of it, burying your face into your pillows.

the sound of cooper’s footsteps made you queasy, curling into a ball and peeking out as he turned on a lamp near the doorway.

“why didn’t ya’ tell me?” he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, having discarded his coat and hat. you rarely ever saw him dressed so casually.

through furrowed brows, you glared at him, “i didn’t have to tell anyone a goddamn thing, you know. it was my secret to keep.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed, stepping close until you felt the bed dip down next to you, “you’re not obligated to tell anyone your secrets,” his voice was so soft, it made your stomach twist, “but you’ve been ignoring my calls. why?”

a deep, shaky breath came from you as you looked at the man sitting next to you on the bed, his face lit up by the warm lamp, “i don’t need your help. i’m fine, cooper.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, a tiny smile on his lips, “you always have been.”

you hated how well his voice and presence soothed you. for the first time in days you felt a spark of hope in your chest, but you stomped it out before it could burn bright.

“i know,” you whispered, moving to rest upright against the headboard with the blanket tight around you, “i figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.”

you didn’t dare look him in the eyes because the last thing you needed was for him to feel sorry for you. it wouldn’t be the first time someone questioned your identity and been turned off by it, many of your old friends had left you in the dust. considering you some kind of freak.

yet, there was cooper howard loyally at your side, his hazel eyes showing nothing but compassion and care for you.

you could remember it clear as day, the first time you filmed a scene with him. it was your first big movie gig after years of ads and small roles on television shows, a character that would be memorable if you played it well. cooper was the lead, a sheriff with a heart of gold, and you were his loveable, naive deputy.

feeling sick to your stomach was an understatement, you vividly remember looking in a mirror and seeing how sunken in your eyes were. you’d been trembling all morning, repeating your lines under your breath as you sweltered underneath the heat radiating from the floodlights that lit up the desert scene.

cooper approached you with that big smile of his, his teeth perfect. everything about him was perfect.

the two of you had run lines weeks and days before, but as you stared at him then, you felt your mind draw a blank. you weren’t going to make a good impression on anyone, especially him.

“you good, kid?” he asked you, head tilting as the makeup department did quick touch ups before the cameras started rolling.

“yeah. i’m great, never been better.” you forced a smile, which got a snort of laughter out of the esteemed actor.

“you’re a terrible liar,” he laughed, reaching over and giving your shoulder a few strong pats, “don’t worry, alright? remember that you’re here because you deserve it. you’ve got skill.”

the rest of the movie was a breeze.

cooper had stuck by your side since then, taking on a role like a mentor. he gave you acting tips, took you for coffee to meet with a better agent, and made sure you had all the connections you needed for making your career even bigger than his own.

you’re not even sure of the exact day you fell in love with him, but after a year of pining for him in secret, you knew you had to end things before trouble found its way to you.

then, he and barb divorced. so, like the devoted little mentee you were, you stayed by his side.

you helped him start up his gig work, which took weeks of convincing, and it only paid just enough to get the alimony to his ex-wife. you’d even started purchasing the dinners and coffees that you two love to frequent, knowing that at some point he wouldn’t be able to treat you as much as he used to.

cooper had become your lifeline, and this was the easiest way to repay him.

“why would you think that?”

cooper’s voice snapped you out of your daze, eyes readjusting to focus on the man sitting in front of you. he sat there with his brown eyes big and wide, the golden glow from your lamp creating a halo around his head.

“well, uh, you wouldn’t be the first to think that,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you dropped your gaze, full of shame.

he exhaled a heavy breath out of his nose, “i’d never do that to you, you know that,” his voice was a comfort to your broken heart, “look at me, i need you to see me say it,” you listened, eyes flickering up to meet his, “i will never ruin what we have over something that makes you… you,” he whispered, his hand holding yours, “you’re the same kid in my eyes and always will be.”

your bottom lip trembled as he spoke, his words digging deep into your heart and leaving you in a mess of emotions. you’d spent the last three days convincing yourself that life was over as you knew it, that all you worked for was just a heap of wood burning away into a pile of nothing.

cooper was a testament to the fact that things would be okay, even if the world wasn’t fair. after his divorce, you knew that he’d lost out on role after role, and if he managed to keep his pride, so could you.

“shit, coop, you’re so stupidly kind,” you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks as intense emotions flooded you for the first time in months. you weren’t much of a crier, but these wouldn’t stop, “i don’t think there’s anyone in the world who’s as goddamn nice as you. it’s almost sickening how sweet you are.”

the man grinned, “don’t go rubbin’ that in, you’ll inflate my ego and you do not wanna’ see me like that.”

you let out a god-honest laugh for the first time in days, one that made your stomach flutter and leave your cheeks a little sore.

the days got easier after that night. cooper visited you every day, bringing you a coffee and lunch, not leaving until he got a smile out of you. the two of you would sit around chatting for hours, he’d tell you all the bullshit stories of the gigs he’d picked up. he shared how barb was going to let him take janey to the gigs, too, and you saw how bright his eyes shined at the thought of getting to be with his babygirl, even for just a few hours in a day.

cooper reminded you that it was the little things that made life manageable.

a week later, he’d convinced you to go with him to see sugarfoot at her stable the day before a birthday gig, his first time that janey would tag along.

“hey, coop?” your voice was quiet as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes watching the trees pass by as you made way for the stable in a secluded area outside the city. the evening was warm and bright, filling the sky with hues of orange, red and pink.

“hm?” the man hummed, tilting his head to you, but not taking his eyes off the road.

“why me?”

his eyes flickered to you, “what do you mean?”

“why, uh… why’d you choose to mentor me?” you mumbled.

the car slowed down as you approached the turn-off to the stable, cooper looked back to road, “guess i can’t really get away with saying it was just outta’ kindness, huh?”

you chuckled, “i want the real answer.”

as you approached the ranch, cooper rolled the vehicle to a stop and shifted into park. you moved to open up the door, but his words interrupted you.

“you reminded me of myself when i was younger,” he answered honestly, turning his head to look at you, “i figured helpin’ you out would heal my soul, or somethin’ like that.”

“how selfish of you,” you snorted, “and to think i thought you did it out of love.”

you kept laughing to yourself after you spoke, opening up the passenger door and getting out to stretch your long limbs. you turned to look over at cooper, able to see him over the roof of the car, and it was then you noticed the red blush that coated his cheeks. he couldn’t hide it from you, even if he tried.

“c’mon, coop,” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you stepped around the vehicle, motioning for the older man to follow, “you don’t have to admit your love to me yet, just shower me in presents and i’ll know it’s true.”

“you’re a real pain in the ass. you know that, right?” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

neither of you needed to admit it out loud just yet, the look you shared spoke more than words could.

“i do,” you said through a smile, leaning into his touch as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to your temple.

you leaned back, taking one long, good look at cooper. he was breathtaking under the evening sun, his skin radiant. you’d never seen him so happy.

“thank you for everything,” you said.

the colour of my sky. you set my world on fire. and i know, i know everything’s gonna’ be alright.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fic #the ghoul fic #pre war cooper #fallout fic #angst with a happy ending

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skyfallslayer · 2 days

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Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Two

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: On the night of November 6th, 1983, Stephanie Henderson decided to walk her little brother’s friend, Will, back home. However… they never arrive. Now, Dustin, Mike and Lucas, and soon the exception of the girl’s ex-best friend, Steve, must band together to find out what happened. Meanwhile, Steph and Will must fight for their survival in this nightmarish version of Hawkins, Indiana.

🎲Chapter Summary: Lucas, Mike and Dustin try to talk to the girl they found in the woods; And Hopper questions an anxious Joyce about an unsettling phone call; Steph and Will must continue to survive; And Steve’s eyes get opened in a way he never saw coming.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 11,024 (Oh, my lord)

🎲Date: 5/16/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Swearing; Implied Broken Friendship; Talks of Kidnapping; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implying Sex; Lying; Implied Suicide; Death/Killing; Talks of Corpses; Blood; Gun Use; Steve's 'Asshole Era. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Jesus. This was a tough one to write and edit (Hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes). But, geez. Writing different POVs, everyone's thought was a tough one. But hopefully y'all can understand 😅. Also, I am NOT a D&D player, so some of lore just comes straight from the wiki. Hopefully that's reliable enough. Anyway, sorry for the delay. Enjoy!

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE ||

“What the fuck are you?!” Will heard her scream as the creature tried to outmatch her. The light above them grew brighter and brighter, and he squeezed his eyes shut while gripping her jacket tighter. He prayed this was just another nightmare. Maybe… Maybe he’s getting his wish when he hears the silence. Does he dare open his eyes and see the truth?

He’s scared, trembling, and it heightens when he hears the girl heaving for air. So much so he clenches his grip on the fabric tighter, the strange smelling air going through his nostrils causing him to gasp himself. When his eyes snapped open is when his coughing fit started.

He hears his name being called, and hands coming around his shoulders. He almost jerks away, afraid, until his orbs settle on the silhouette before him.

“S-Steph?” He croaked, a sense of relief flooding his veins. “What just happened?” He could see the confusion on her face, looking around for clues. He followed her eyes, nose crinkling at the sight. “We’re still in the shed. But it’s… gross.”

She swallows. “Stay behind me.” She tells him, and guides herself through the door. They both shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. “Jesus, It’s freezing.”

Will and her looked around, the outside world seemed to be encased in a blue hue, the places around seemed to be tangled with vines and covered in something sticky. There was also a white powder that looked like snow, raining down from the dark skies above. A sky that didn’t even have moonlight like it did a few minutes ago.

“Did you hit your head when we crashed?” She asked after getting his attention away from the sky.

He shakes his head, almost sadly. If that had both just hit their heads, would the situation have been better? He frowns, worriedly thinking away as the older girl tries to stay calm.

“Come on.” She says, gesturing to him to follow. “Let’s go inside. I want to see something.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT ||

The rain was coming down more intensely than before, followed by the grumbling of thunder and lightning. Somehow, miraculously, the boys, mostly Wheeler, managed to convince the strange girl they found in the woods to return home with them, and hid her in the basement.

“Is there a number we can call for your parents?” Mike asked, worriedly as the girl looked between the three boys, all scared and confused.

“Where’s your hair? Do you have cancer?” Dustin spitted out, genuinely curious.

“Did you run away?” Lucas asked, skeptical.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Mike says, just as his friend questions a red sustain on her shirt. He slaps his hand away quickly. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!”

“I bet she’s deaf.” Dustin suggested, before taking a quick half step and smacking his hands together. The sound makes the girl flinch, and he frowns apologetically. “Not deaf.”

“That’s enough, all right? She’s just scared and cold.” Mike said, silencing the two before running over to the laundry basket and grabbing some clothes. “Here, these are clean. Okay?”

The girl takes them, taking a second to be grateful before she starts stripping– The boys freak out, Mike running up to stop her while the other two look away.

“See over there?” He points. “Th-That’s the bathroom. Privacy. Get it?” She nods and he shows her inside. Just when he was about to shut it behind him, she grabs it forcibly. “You don’t want it closed?”

“No.” She finally says, surprising him.

“Oh, so you can speak. Okay, well… Um, how about we just keep the door…” He slowly moves it until there’s about three inches of space. “Just like this. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

Mike smiles and leaves her be, rejoining the group who were having a conversation of their own.

“This is mental.” Dustin said, freaking out.

“At least she can talk.” Mike points out, with Lucas shaking his head, replying,

“She said ‘no’ and ‘yes’. Your three-year-old sister says more.”

“She tried to get naked.” Dustin adds.

“There’s something seriously wrong with her.” Lucas said, touching his temple. “Like, wrong in the head.”

“She just went like…” The Henderson boy makes a motion of taking off shirt (and even knocked his own hat off his head).

“I bet she escaped from Pennhurst.”

“From where?” Mike said, eyebrow raised.

“The nuthouse in Kerley County.”

“You got a lot of family there?” Dustin teased, getting a dirty look.

“Bite me. Seriously though, think about it. That would explain her shaved hair and why she’s so crazy.”

“Why she went like…” He does the shirt motion again. In his mind this was helping him and Lucas’ case.

“‘She’s an escapee’ is the point. She’s probably a psycho.”

“Like Michael Myers.”

“Exactly! We should’ve never brought her here.”

“So you just wanted to leave her out in that storm?” Mike asks, irritated.

“Yes! We went out to find Will–”

“And Phanie.” Dustin pressures.

“And Steph – not another problem!” Lucas agrees.

“I think we should tell your mom.”

“I second that.”

Mike holds his hand up. “Who’s crazy now?”

“How is that crazy?” Lucas scoffed.

“‘Cause, we weren’t supposed to be out tonight, remember?”

“So?”

“So if I tell my mom and she tells your mom and your mom–”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh, man.”

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” Lucas frowns.

“Exactly. We’ll never find Will, or Steph.” Mike says, seeing Dustin make the shirt motion once more, silently asking the question about the girl. “All right, here’s the plan. She sleeps here tonight.”

Henderson perked up again. “You’re letting a girl–”

“Just listen! In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear. And tomorrow night, we go back out. And this time, we find Will and Stephanie.”

Lucas and Dustin share a look, until one of them finally shrugged. “I guess that works.”

“Great. We’ll start again tomorrow. Goodnight, guys.” Mike bid them as he went off to start making the mysterious girl a place to rest.

“This is crazy, man.” Lucas said, once they had snuck back out. “What the hell is Mike even thinking?”

“I don’t know. Do you think his plan will really work?” Dustin asked, as they headed over to where their bikes were hidden.

“I’m giving it less than a fifty percent chance of success.” He sighs. “I better get home.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, don’t look so sad.” He pats his curly haired friend on the back. “We’ll find them.”

“I just want my sister back. You have no idea.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

In the following morning, in the Byers house, the eldest seemingly was keeping it together, making the morning meal like he always does and hoping his worrying mother would have just a bite.

“All right, Mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan said, while placing the plate down in front of her, her thoughts being interrupted.

“What?” His mother said, before moving some papers. “No, be careful of the poster.”

“Yeah, okay. All right–”

“I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, Mom.”

“Listen, listen. The Xerox place opens in, like…” She looks down at her watch. “30 minutes–”

“Mom–”

“And I don’t want you to go alone–”

“No, I know. I told you, I got it.”

“So I’m gonna have Karen take you, ‘cause I should be here.” She gestures around, all jittery. “Claudia will meet you there, b-but if she’s not, she’ll reimburse us for the copies of Stephanie, I–”

He shakes his head with understanding. “Okay.”

“We need to make, what, 200, 300 copies?” He nods again. “How much is a copy?”

“Mom?”

“Ten cents?”

“Mom?”

“If we– ten cents”

“Mom, Mom!” Jonathan stops her from counting the cash she had laid out, and squeezes her shoulder with her other hang to calm her. “Y-You can’t get like this, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Joyce replies, taking a shaky inhale of nicotine.

“No, it’s okay.” He reassures her softly, just before someone comes knocking on their door. The mother rushed over with her son on her tail, busting the door wide open for the exhausted police officer.

“We’ve been waiting six hours.”

“I know, I came as soon as I could.” Hopper replies, nearly dead on his feet.

“Six hours.”

“A little bit of trust here, all right?” He slides his hat off. “We’ve been searching all night, went all the way to Cartersville.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

Joyce made a choking sound and looked away. “God…”

Hopper frowns, sadly. “Flo says you got a phone call?”

“Oh, yeah.” Joyce nods and shows him their phone.

He picks it, examining the speaker part of it which was charded black. “Storm barbecued this pretty good.”

She took a step back in surprise. “The storm?”

Hopper looked at her like she had two heads. “What else?”

“You’re saying that that’s not weird?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Can we, like, trace who made the call? Contact the–”

“No, it doesn’t work like that.” He shakes his head, and then looks at her with all seriousness. “Now, uh, you’re sure it was Will? Because Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

“No. It was him, it was Will... and h-he was scared. And then something–”

“It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you.”

“Who would do that?” Joyce questioned, face full of confusion and sickness.

“Well, this thing’s been on TV. It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh–”

“No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him.”

“Joyce.” He begins, as she denies him again

“Come on, how about a little trust here?” She laughs dryly. “What, you think I’m– I’m making this up?”

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up.” Hopper looks at her with concern again. “All I’m saying is it’s an emotional time for you.”

“And you think I don’t know my own son’s breathing?”

“Joyce–”

“Hopper, my son’s missing. A-And not only that, someone else’s daughter is missing.” She nervously takes a puff of her cigarette. “And you know what the mess up part about that is? Stephanie didn’t have to! She didn’t have to be the sweetheart she is and take my son home. She could have just drove past him, but she didn’t! She didn’t, Hop. And now I have to live with the thought that I made someone else’s kid go missing because I. Was. Working!”

She ends with an emotional sigh, tightening the heavy tension it the room. Jonathan worriedly looking at his mother before, locking eyes with the police chief who was trying to find the right words to say.

“You hear from, uh, Lonnie yet?” Hopper asked after the small silence.

“No.”

“It’s been long enough.” He puts his hat back on. “I’m having him checked out.”

“Oh, come on!” She sighs loudly, watching him leave. “You’re wasting your time.” Then the door shuts, and rubs her temple. “Jesus. He never listens!”

Jonathan ponders for a moment, before asking, “Mom, how likely is it that Will would actually go to Lonnie’s?”

“I…” Joyce runs a hand through her messy locks. “It’s possible, but he lives a long, long way. Especially on foot. But… I don’t– maybe he would! I…” She sighs again, overwhelmed. “However, I don’t think he would have gone with Stephanie. He’s… W-Will knows your father’s not the best man, and Will, you know, has that heart of gold.”

That got a chuckle out of both of them. “Yeah.”

“I don’t think Will would have risked Stephanie like that.” She shakes her head. “No. She’s an older kid, and older sister. As much as this sounds messed up, she would have done anything to make sure Will was safe. I know it. So… my question is…” She locks eyes with her son. “What would a girl her age think is a safe place for a young boy?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| TWO NIGHTS AGO ||

Stephanie flipped the lightswitch on in the kitchen out of curiosity, but finds herself still submerged in darkness. “Just what I thought. There’s no light.” She says with a frown.

“The flash of light we saw–” Will looks up at her. “Do you think it was a power outage?”

“I don’t think there’s light here, I mean-” She starts walking around, rubbing her shaking hands together. “Look at this place. I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore.” She shivers just a smidge. “At least it’s a little warmer inside here.” Then she hears a distressful sound. “Will?”

The boy was pale, pupils blown wide and had a small tremble. “W-What do you m-mean we’re not in Hawkins anymore?” He asked, lip quivering with a slight pant. “B-But th-this looks like my house. D-Did w-we get taken somewhere else? Can we even g-go home? I–”

“Shit… Will–” She rushes over, hands coming up to his shoulders while she gets on one knee. “Will? Hey, bud, listen– hey.” She makes sure his gaze meets hers. “Don’t freak out. I know it’s scary, but we’re going to figure this out. Once we do, I’m going to get us home, I promise.”

The boy sniffles into his shoulder, fighting back tears. “You promise?”

“I promise.” She says it without realizing the fate of those words.

He swallows and extends out a certain finger. “Pinky promise?”

Her breath was nearly taken away by that certain question, taking her far back into a distant memory. But… like hell she’s going to let that memory change her judgment. She interlocks hers with his and repeats, “Pinky promise.”

That got him to crack a smile. “So, what next?” He asks, making her rack her brain for a plan.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT DAY ||

He woke up again to his cat’s crying. The young Henderson frowns, heart clenching at how Mews was wondering where his sister was at. For the urban legend of how cats had no emotions, he’s certainly not seeing it. He rubbed his eyes and wandered aimlessly around, the thought of calling sick into school was still fresh in his mind. Should he? I mean it made sense, and it wasn’t like the school won’t understand, so….

Was that a yes?

He walked through the hallway, curls in his eyes as slows in front of his sister’s bedroom. His cat locked eyes with him, sadness and confusion filled the slitted pupils. Mews meows again.

“She’s not back yet.” Dustin says, getting a chirp. “We’re trying. She’ll be back soon.” He starts walking away, hearing him make a sad sound once more.

“Dusty-bun, I’m going to make some posters.” Claudia said, who were gathering her belongings by the door. “I left you breakfast on the stove.”

His nervous fingers gripped his t-shirt as he tried not to sound so down. “Hey, Mom?” Her eyes meet his gaze. “Is it okay if I… stay home today?”

Claudia’s face softens bittersweetly. “Of course you can, sweety. If you leave the house for whatever reason, just leave me a note where you’re going, that’s all I ask.” She gives him a kiss on his hairline, and is one foot out the door before adding, “Oh! And be back before dark. Okay? Your Mama doesn’t need to worry about another kid.”

“Can do.”

He watches her smile and closes the door, locking it. He frowns at that action, I mean they’ve never locked their door before, and now it was becoming second nature. He was even surprised she told him he could leave the house. Or… did she not expect him to leave this place in the state he’s in? Sounds like something she would do.

He sighs and heads for the kitchen to make himself a plate. He didn’t have much of an appetite, really, but he didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings or make her beg for him to eat – he didn’t want to call ‘pot kettle black’ since he was the one that had to convince his mourning mother to eat last night. But it was hard, his fork just picking at the food, cutting it into smaller pieces to stare at before dropping his utensil onto the plate.

Steph… His fingers dug into his pocket and pulled the gold chain out, letting it sprawl out in his palm. He stares at it intensely, thinking. Come on, Sis, give me a sign. What happened to you and Will? What caused you to go off road and run? Run with Will’s shotgun out of all things?

What had got her so scared that they needed a weapon to protect themselves? Both her and Will were the last two people that would resort in violence, so the fact that they decided to arm themselves with a weapon tells him that something sinister was up.

But what? Dustin lays the necklace down next to him, pretending that she was here to eat with him like she always does, before deciding it was time to munch on what was left on his plate.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper struggles to keep his mind clear after that conversation with Joyce. His thought always going back to this particular moment:

““Stephanie didn’t have to! She didn’t have to be the sweetheart she is and take my son home. She could have just drove past him, but she didn’t! She didn’t, Hop. And now I have to live with the thought that I made someone else’s kid go missing because I. Was. Working!””

Of course the woman felt guilty about everything. I mean, your kid goes missing, who else are you going to blame other than yourself? But she also was chipping away at the idea it was her fault that that poor girl was missing too. Blames herself for working later than usual, and wasn’t the one to come across her own son on the road and pick him up. That’s a lot of guilt for someone who’s holding the family together on her own.

He listens to the volunteers shout the children’s names, hoping that they would shout back. Hopper wishes that too. He prays that one of them would yell back for help and get this nightmare over with.

“Hey!” He shouts at the two officers. “Anything?”

Callahan shakes his head. “You?”

“No, nothing but a dead phone.”

“Joyce?”

Hopper nods. “About one step from falling off the edge.”

“She’s been a few steps for a while now, hasn’t she?” Powell asked, as he’s met with a stern glare.

“Kid’s missing, man. Show a little class.” Hopper snaps, making them avert their eyes.

“All right…”

He exhales and takes off with the rest of the group, shouting, “Come on, let’s go! We got a lot of ground to cover.” He keeps his fingers crossed that this would be it. That this would be the search that brings them home.

For their mothers' sake.

For his sake.

For every goddamn person out of here’s sake.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE ||

Stephanie shifted through the last cabinet and frowns. “Well, we can’t cook anything because there’s no electricity. But we can eat the dry goods. Unless we can figure out how to start a fire” She sighs, and wrinkles her nose. I mean, they can go a few days without eating if they didn’t want to touch the box of crackers covered in goo. But water? How were they supposed to have water if the faucet comes out with something they probably shouldn’t drink.

She rubs her temples, thinking. “I guess we’re going to have to look for some bottled stuff to drink.” She makes contact with the boy who just entered the room. “How you feeling?”

“Fine. I got a bit of a chill, but we can still grab clothes out of the closets if we need it.” Will replies, hugging his walkie talkie close.

“And the call?”

“Nothing. I mean I could hardly ever get reception over here anyway, so maybe we can try finding a different spot.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea." She says with a sigh. “Where’s the shotgun?”

“Oh, uh– Mom’s room.” He points behind him.

“Alright, maybe I’ll take a peek outside. If it seems clear, maybe we can try to find some reception.”

Stephanie leaves the room with Will looking back at his walkie. He had to remain strong, hopeful. He has to get through to someone. His friends, his family, one of them has to be able–

Wait.

Was he hearing things? Was his mind playing tricks?

His eyes trail to his living room where he swears he heard someone talking. It was faint, but you can’t miss it.

It sounds like… His chest tightens at a thought, his brown orbs blown wide as he looks at the yellow phone on the wall. It was probably hopeless, stupid even, I mean… the damn thing didn’t work when Stephanie tried to call for help when they were being chased. But that was the real world, this was… fake? Maybe it different, maybe it’s—

Oh, shit.

Maybe he’s just grasping at straws at this point and hopes it turns out okay.

His fingers latch around the phone, pulling it off the receiver and dials his home’s number, praying with all his might that this ridiculous idea would actually work.

Come on, come on, come on, come on, com–

Oh, he felt like crying when someone picked up.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

His mother’s voice broke through and poke him in the heart. He couldn’t breath as relief washed over him like a storm.

[ ‘Hello? Lonnie? Hopper? Who is this?’ ]

Say something, say something, say something– His lip quivers as he swallows. “M-Mom?” He can’t wait till Steph hears about this. “M-Mom, I-It’s me.”

She can hear me right? She has to.

[ ‘Will? Will? It’s Will!’ ]

[ ‘Mom, it’s Will?’ ]

He could cry upon hearing the second voice. “J-Jonathan? Mom? M-Me and Stephanie are tr-trap in some weird place! I-I don’t know what t-to–”

Then he was cut off by the dreadful sound of the monster. Will watched as its claws wrapped around the corner, almost like it was pulling itself into the kitchen. He doesn’t even know where it came from. He didn’t even hear it freaking come in!

He froze on sight, his mother shouting something he couldn’t make out as the beast with no eyes looked directly at him. He wanted to scream but it was stuck in his throat. Is this how he was going to die? Die by listening to his mother’s pleas to answer her?

It shrieked and seemed to get bigger, ready to strike him down before it took a bullet to the face. The shot made it fall against the wall, and Will drops the fried phone and backs himself away. Stephanie looked half scared to death too as she cocks the shotgun again and fires one more when it stands up, sending it flying to the living room. As quickly as her buckling knees could hold her, she rushes over to Will, pulling him behind her as she aims the barrel into the direction the beast was. Shaking intensely, she carefully peeks around the corner to find that it had completely vanished like it did earlier. She gasps in shock before sliding to the ground herself, mentally drained.

“Steph!!” Will calls out with worry. He could see her eyes glassing over, her skin becoming paler as she shouts,

“Where the fuck are we?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT DAY ||

Steve strolls into school, head in the clouds, and an aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. His sleep went to complete shit after the conversation with his girlfriend last night. He still doesn’t understand why it was affecting him so much. It’s not like him and Steph hung out anymore. So why is he losing sleep over this?

You’re not even friends anymore, Harrington. He mentally slaps himself. Get your shit together–

“Boo!” Tommy yelled, jumping out from behind the corner, startling him.

“Jesus, Hagan.” Steve said, holding his chest while the other teen laughed.

“That was so easy.”

“So–” Carol’s arm snakes around him with a grin. “Did you tell your little girlfriend about your party?”

“I-I… not yet.”

“What? You didn’t tell her at her house yesterday?”

“N-No. Never got the chance to.”

“What?!” Tommy scoffs. “Stealthy Stevie didn’t get to use his skills last night?” Him and his girlfriend laughed, but then grew quiet seeing how distant the King was being. “What the fuck’s going on with you, man?”

“Um…” Steve’s gaze gets caught onto someone else, spotting a certain person posting a certain flier up on the bulletin board. He swallows, and masks a fake smile. “You guys go ahead to class. I got to grab something out of my locker.”

“Oh, we can go with you.” Carol begins, trying to follow him but he shakes them off.

“No, no. Go ahead. I’ll meet you there.” Steve ignores the strange looks they gave him before walking away. Deciding this was the ‘only’ way, he rushes over to the oldest Byers kid, ‘accidently’ pushing his shoulder into his, knocking the papers out of his hand while he was leaving. He scoffs, while saying, “Watch where you’re going!”

Jonathan says nothing as he bends over to collect the rest, oblivious to the other teenager sliding a paper away with his foot. Once he leaves, Steve retrieves the flier from under his shoe, reading it over.

HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Stephanie Henderson Age 16, 5’4” Brown Hair, Blue Eyes, 110lbs. Last seen wearing a brown work uniform, black jacket, white sneakers, and a baseball cap. Reach out to Claudia Henderson or Joyce Byers at #### or ####

Steve stares with a distant look in his eyes, thumb brushing over her picture. Such a gentle smile for a gentle person. God… why did they have to use that picture? It was right before he–

He frowns, throwing his head back.

Fuck…

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Back at the Wheeler’s house, Mike decided to stay home, his parents totally unaware of him doing so. He showed the new girl around his place, acting a bit giggly when they finally got to his room. He was so excited to show off his action figures, and comic books, and anything else that he holds close to his heart. He didn’t even realize she was starting to wander off to where a collection of trophies were. Her brown eyes grew with fascination by them.

“Oh, these are all my science fair trophies. We got first every year.” Mike’s smile drops just a tad. “Except for last year when we got third. Mr. Clarke said it was totally political.”

Yeah, it totally was that. He expected some kind of reaction from her, except for the one where her eyes widened and she slowly pointed to the picture of Will in their fair picture together.

Mike perked up, hopeful. “You know Will? Did you see him? Last Night? On the road? Did–” He pauses. “Hang on a sec.” Maybe he’s getting his hopes up as he grabs another photo after shifting around in his drawer. It was a picture of his friends’ families at the lake, posing nicely for the camera.

He points to the girl in the right hand corner. “This is Stephanie. She’s his sister.” He points to Dustin who’s hanging out behind her. “She supposedly gave Will a ride the night he disappeared, and we can’t find her either. Did you see her too?”

The girl studies Steph’s face, slowly the same reaction she had from seeing Will returned as she pointed again. “I–”

Her answer was cut short when they heard something from outside. Mike gets up quickly, peeking through his curtains to see his mother’s car pulling into the driveway. He pales.

“Shit.” He rushes to grab her by the hand and strings her along. “We gotta hide!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

Of course the eldest stayed awake for most of the night, the two of them tucked away in the far corner of Will’s room, her eyes trained on the door just in case that wretched monster appeared again. She kept a good grip on the shotgun, one foot planted on the ground for a quick pop up if needed. Adrenaline was pumping in her blood, she was fighting off her exhaustion and hunger, while a tune played on her dry lips.

“♪ Here we stand

Worlds apart, hearts broken in two. Two. Two

Sleepless nights.

Losing ground, I’m reaching for you. You. You

Feeling that it’s gone

Can’t change your mind

If we can’t go on

To survive–♪”

Will stirred beside her, his head resting on her shoulder that was starting to fall asleep, but she refused to jostle the kid. God knows he needs his rest. Well… so does she, but she’ll get around to that.

Her mind wanders back to the conversation they had last night, the one where Will admitted he spoke to his mother on the phone. Shock wasn’t the right word, especially when she examined the phone that had been burnt black, and when asking again if he heard that right, the youngest Byers swears he did.

Is there actually a way to communicate to… well… ‘our world’, I guess. She ponders on that thought, wondering if it’s possible to do so without frying your phone to death. Not to mention Will swears he heard people talking before calling his mother. Can we only communicate to the people we ‘hear’?

She scolds herself. This hurts my head too much.

“♪ –The tide

Love divides

Someday, love will find you

Break those chains that bind you

One night will remind you

How we touched and went our separate ways

If he ever hurts you

True love won’t desert you

You know I still love you

Though we touched and went our separate ways– ♪”

Will stirred again, this time waking up slowly with a groan. “Was it a dream…?” He whispers, his eyes opening at a snail pace.

“I wish.” Steph says, sadly.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks, rubbing his face.

Her heart skips a beat and a lie slips out. “Uh, yeah. It was fine.”

“That’s good.”

“We shouldn’t stay here.” She says, surprising him. “We should probably move around, maybe lose that monster for a while. And you’re probably hungry too, I know my mom keeps cans and bottled water down in our basement for emergencies. That should tie us over for a little while.”

“Is it even safe to go out?” He wonders, yet intrigued. He’ll admit… he is a bit famished.

“I don’t know. But we got to try. Right?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Whoa, whoa. Careful, careful.” Hopper says as he snags his partner by the collar. “I need you alive for the next few days, at least.”

Callahan smirked and scoffed as he gestures to the Quarry below. “Oh, hell, I could survive that.” He said, making his superior laugh. “What? George Burness made the jump. And he was drunk as a skunk. He did it on a $10 bet.”

“George is a liar. You make that jump from this height, that water turns into cement. Hits you like a ton of bricks.” Hopper smacks his hands together. “Break every damn bone in your body.”

The youngster pondered on that for a second before shaking his head. “Nah.”

[ ‘Chief, you copy?’ ]

Hopper grabs his walkie from his belt. “Yeah, Flo, talk to me.”

[ ‘Hey, Chief, we got a call from over at Benny’s. I think you need to get there right away.’ ]

And those were words he didn’t want to hear. So he and his team rushed over there as quickly as they could, and the first they were met with was the smell of a rotting corpse.

“Ugh, Jesus!” Callahan said, covering his nose.

“Suicide?” Powell asked, after a moment of silence.

Hopper hummed and stared in disbelief at the man laying on the table, pistol in hand and a bullet wound straight through the temple. There’s no way this can be real.

“Missing kid, suicide.” Callahan frowns. “You must feel like a big city cop again, huh, Chief?

“Well, I mostly dealt with strangers back then.” Hopper replies, this particular moment he almost broke down. “Benny was my friend.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

Stephanie peeked outside before gesturing to Will to follow. The two of them had backpacks on that they found lying around, going to use them to fill up with anything they could find – But the task that lay ahead was going to be hard. The task was…

Walking back through Mirkwood to the Henderson home.

No lights, just a few bullets to spare, and their pure will to survive (Or maybe it’s the fear that’s fueling that will).

“I don’t like this.” Will mutters, only a few minutes after they left the Byers’ driveway and down a few feet on the road. “What if that thing spawns in front of us again?”

“Then we shoot it and book it again. That’s all we can do now.” Steph replies, carefully looking around. But what if he’s right? What if thing actually just spawns out of thin air? Then there’s not telling where and when not to go.

He stays silent, shaking a tad as they make it further down the road. It took a hot minute for the older girl to notice this and stop briefly, the twelve year old’s eyes confused just as she held out her hand. Without missing a beat, his clammy hand takes it, squeezing it tight. She smiles just a tad, reminding her of Dustin before they started walking again.

She felt him hang on to dear life as they strolled into the darkest part of Mirkwood, the eeriness that was silence was making their hearts race. She came to a conclusion after facing the monster last night that she had to be the strong one here. She has to act like the older sister again, and remain calm, and to keep him safe.

I made a promise. I don’t know how to fulfill it just yet, but I’m going to get him out of here. Steph casts a glance down at him, the poor boy’s face looked so cold. Does hers look like that too?

She grins after a quick thought. “Hey–” His eyes locked with hers. “What does a ‘Ranger’ do in D&D? That one sounds intriguing to me.”

His face lights up. “You actually want to play D&D?”

“Hey, you suggested it, I might as well. So, the Ranger? What’s that like? The lore?”

“Well, Rangers are warriors that explore different civilizations, and they hunt down the deadliest of monsters. They’re trained in many different combat techniques, survival skills, and even some magic.”

“Magic? I like the sound of that.”

“They mostly reside in the forest, or anything ‘nature-y’.”

She chuckles. “I don’t like the sound of that. What else? Aren’t there like… classes… or different types?

“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “I guess it depends on what you prefer. Do you want me to tell you?”

“I’m all ears.” Steph said, making a motion. I’m just glad he’s stopped shaking.

“Well, there’s a lot. The most common ones are ‘Beast Masters’, which are accompanied with an animal companion. Then there’s ‘Hunters’, which are mainly just professional assassins that take down monsters of all sorts. Now, even though all Rangers have the capability of taking monsters down, Hunters are strictly made just to do that.”

She hums. “Interesting.”

“Then there’s ‘Gloom Stalkers’, who live mostly in dark realms, and take down the shadowy beasts roaming the territory. They’re pretty good at ambushing their opponents.” He smiles. “Personally, I find that the coolest.”

“Well, I can see why. What else? Do Rangers get weapons?”

“Of course! The most common is a two-blade or archery.”

“Archery sounds cool.”

“See, I agree. But I know Lucas always says it’s ‘stupid’, so–”

Steph shakes her head with a sigh. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to prove him wrong when I play.”

“So you are going to play with us!” Will said, joyfully, like you just told him Christmas was coming early.

“If that’s how I prove Lucas wrong, then so be it. So how does one newbie play D&D?” She asked, hopefully this will keep him occupied. At least I can keep him distracted until we get there.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT ||

“Are you out of your mind?” Lucas said, as soon as Mike was done with his explanation for them being here.

“Just listen to me.” Mike pleads.

“You are out of your mind–”

“She knows about Will and Steph.”

Dustin perks up after being the silent one here. “What do you mean she knows about them?”

Mike grabs the pictures from earlier and holds them up. “She pointed at them, at their picture. She knew they were missing. I could tell.”

“You could tell?” Lucas asked, looking between the pictures and the girl who was on the bed.

“Just think about it. Do you really think it was a coincidence that we found her on Mirkwood, the same place where they disappeared?”

Dustin nodded, agreeing. “That is weird.”

“And she said bad people are after her.” Mike said, with a frown. “I think maybe these bad people are the same ones that took Will and Steph. I think she knows what happened to them.”

“Then why doesn’t she tell us?” Lucas asked, glaring at her direction before stomping over. “Do you know where they are?” He grabs her by the shoulder. “Do you know where Will and Stephanie are?!”

“Stop it, you’re scaring her!” Mike pulls him away, as his friend brushes him off.

“She should be scared! If you know where they are, tell us! This is nuts. We have to take her to your mom.”

“No! Eleven said telling any adult would put us in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Dustin asked, his thoughts from earlier about his sister and Will taking a shotgun with them crossed his mind.

Lucas gives him a weird look. “Her name is Eleven?”

“El for short.” Mike clarifies.

“Mike! What kind of danger?” Dustin pushes, his stomach turning.

“Danger danger!” The brunette makes a finger gun and points it between Henderson’s eyes before moving over towards Lucas who demises quickly.

“No, no, no!” Sinclair snaps, rushing for the door. “We’re going back to plan A. We’re telling your mom.”

He pulls open the door only for it to slam shut automatically. Not even batting an eye at that, he tries again, for it to not only to shut with more force but to even lock itself. The boys look back at the only explanation, and they see El standing on her feet with a drop of blood coming out of her nose.

“No.” She said, with a tone that told them not to push it.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Back at the station, Hopper was questioning an anxious friend of Benny’s. Earl was his name, and he was sitting in a chair, eyes full of disbelief as he lit a cigarette.

“Just doesn’t make any sense, Chief.”

“You, uh, notice anything odd about him the last few weeks?” Hopper asked, trying to keep it professional (even though this case was hurting him the most).

Earl shakes his head. “No, we’re fixin’ to go fishing down the Etowah next Sunday. I mean, he was lookin’ forward to it. I know that.”

“He got any enemies you might know about? I mean, people who might not want him around?”

“The exes didn’t like him much. That’s for sure, but… nah.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday. Lunch, same as always.”

“Just you and the boys?”

“Yep. Me and Henry and…” He pauses. “Well, there was this, uh, this kid. No kid did this.”

“Kid?” Hopper nearly perked up hope. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. At lunch, uh, there was this boy that, uh I mean, he was trying to steal food out of Benny’s kitchen. Can you imagine that?”

Hopper locked eyes with Callahan who got the silent message. “This kid what’d he look like?”

“Well, he was about yea high.” Earl raises his arm up and out. “You know, tiny like. I didn’t get a good look at him, though. He was back in the kitchen.”

“He look like this?” Callahan asked, coming back with a missing kid poster of Will.

He takes the flier, and immediately shakes his head. “Oh, no, that’s… that’s Lonnie’s missin’ kid. No. This was a different kid. This one had really short hair. I mean, it was buzzed nearly down to the scalp.”

Hopper tries not to let his composure break, and continues to hold on to the slimmer of hope. “Yeah, well, let’s… You know, let’s forget about the haircut. I mean, if this kid had a buzz cut… could it be Lonnie’s kid?”

“Well, I-I… didn’t get a good look at him. About the right height, though. I mean, could’ve been. Yeah, that’s… Could’ve been.”

Hopper frowns, taking the poster back from him. “And, you only saw the boy right? No girl? Teenager? Dark hair?”

“No.” Earl shakes his head once more. “No. I didn’t see a girl.”

The Chief mentally sighs. This is not good.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[ ‘A party?’ ]

Finally! Steve thought, pumping his fist. She finally sounded intrigued. He was hoping this would make up for his weird behavior at school.

And, no, no, no, It wasn’t because of– well… ‘you know who’. Totally not because of her. Totally, totally, totally not–

[ ‘Steve?’ ]

Nancy’s voice broke through his totally not clouded mind. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Yeah, a party. Well… kind of. It’s just going to be me, Tommy H. and Carol. No parents for the whole weekend, so we wouldn’t have to worry about them coming in and ruining the mo-jo.”

Just my friends and my girlfriend. Just having fun, no worries about–

[ ‘Not much of a party with just four people.’ ]

He laughs. “Okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little sad. But you know, it’s better this way. And, you know, if you want to, you can invite Barbara. If it makes you feel more comfortable. Or not. Or you don’t have to come–”

[ ‘Steve.’ ]

“Yeah?”

[ ‘I’ll totally come. But I’m going to try to convince Barb first if that’s alright.’ ]

“Yeah, Yeah. Totally. It starts at seven.”

[ ‘Starts at seven. Got it. I’ll see you then.’ ]

He smiles. “See you then. Bye.”

[ ‘Bye.’ ]

“Yes!” He said, once he hung up the phone. “Finally.” He feels his spirits get lifted again. “This is going to be perfect.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

“Welcome to Mi Casa.” Stephanie said, upon entering her home. Just as gross and dark as Will’s.

“You said the basement, right?” Will asked, the thought of eating something sounded nice.

“Yep.”

They thought navigating below “sunlight” was going to be hard, but I guess living in darkness for nearly twenty-four hours had its perks. Finding the tote where the emergency supplies were easier than they thought, their stomachs growing when they saw the cans of food.

“Hang on second.” Steph said, disappearing back up the stairs for a sec, and then coming back with some forks and a can opener. She uses her shirt to wipe it clean the best she could before using. “Pineapple or Peaches?”

“Pineapple, please.” Will said, drooling as she placed the open can in his hands. The two of them plop down criss-cross applesauce, sighing with relief that they could finally take a rest.

“We’ll have to take what we can, but don’t make your bag too heavy in case we need to run again. Got it?” She replies, sliding over a bottle of water to him too. He nods, and takes a second to chug some liquid too.

One can was enough for now, since none of them had any clue how long they’ll be here, they’ll need to ration what they can find. Food, water, a first aid kit, some mittens and hats, an extra jacket, socks (And Will was proud to find a half box of matches laying around).

“Do we need anything else?” He asked, making her think.

She hums, and feels around her pockets. “We need more ammo. Or another gun at least.”

“Do you have any?”

“No. I don’t.” She closes her eyes. Now where could we get more nearby?

But the more she thought about it, the more she dreaded. She does know one place they have a gun, and hopefully still does since it’s been so long.

She sighs. “I know… one place that has a gun. It’s far though. Really far. It’ll take us a couple hours to get there on foot. But it’s closer than going to town.”

“If that’s what we have to do, then let’s do it.” Will said, sliding his backpack back on, ready to start their journey again. He flashes her a goofy grin. “I hope I can count this as PE for school.”

If that was a joke to cheer her up then it totally worked.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Now that they might have a lead, the police and its volunteers spread out in the woods behind Benny’s diner, hoping to find some good news (For Hopper’s sake he really hopes so).

“Hey, you think Earl really saw Will?” Callahan asked, trying to keep up with his Boss’ speed. “I mean, what’s he doin’ with a shaved head? And stealing food from Benny?”

“Tell you what, when we find him, we’ll ask.” Hopper replies, with an attitude.

“Can’t ask a corpse questions.” Powell said, getting a glare. Suddenly, one of the volunteers blew a whistle.

“Hold up! You got something?” Hopper shouted and broke into a sprint. “Hey, what do you got?”

“Not sure.” The person said, crouching down next to a drain. “Maybe nothing. I found this. In there.”

Hopper takes a piece of fabric from his hand, before shining his flashlight through the drain, still hopeful that maybe he was lying in there, scared but safe.

“No way a kid crawls through there.” Powell said, in denial.

“I don’t know… a scared enough one might. His brother said he was good at hiding.”

“Yeah, but, just Will?” Callahan asked, conflicted. “What happened to Stephanie? ‘Cause there ain’t no way a teenager’s going to fit through this drain pipe.”

“Maybe they separated?” Powell questioned.

“I’m not so sure about that. Claudia said her daughter would never leave anyone behind.”

“Willingly that is.”

“Come on, you two.” Hopper said, jogging again.

This time, they decided to follow the drain pipe that led them further into the forest. Just as their knees were about to give out, they’re met with an electric fence and a keep out sign for the one and only…

Hawkins Lab.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“El?” Mike announces his arrival into the basement. He had just finished having dinner with his family, and even convinced his mom to let his friends stay the night. All part of his plan to figure out what was happening to his missing family.

“No adults. Just us and some meatloaf.” He continues, placing a tray down in front of the makeshift fort, letting her know to come out. Her eyes trail to him and then to the two boys falling behind. “Don’t worry. They won’t tell anyone about you. They promise. Right?”

“We never would’ve upset you if we knew you had superpowers.” Dustin said, before getting hit in the leg by Mike. “Ow!”

“What Dustin is trying to say is that they were just scared… earlier. That’s all.”

“We just wanted to find our friends.” Lucas admitted, feeling a tad guilty for his actions.

“‘Friends’?” El asked, confused by that word. It was so foreign to her. What does it even mean?

“Yeah, friends. Will? Steph?”

“What are ‘friends’?”

Lucas gave her a weird look. “Is she serious?” Henderson shrugged. “Um, a friend–”

“Is someone that you’d do anything for.” Mike cuts in.

“You lend them your cool stuff, like comic books and trading cards.” Dustin adds.

“And they never break a promise.”

“Especially when there’s spit.” Lucas also puts in, making sure she was getting it.

“Spit?” El said, tilting her head.

“A spit swear means–” He spits into his palm. “You never break your word.” He holds his hand out for Dustin to take and shake. “It’s a bond.”

Mike nods in agreement. “That’s super important, because friends… they tell each other things. Things that parents don’t know.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Barbara finally pulls the car over to the side after her friend insisted they stop here. She looks over at the brunette with a strange look. “What are we doing here? His house is three blocks away.”

“We can’t park in the driveway.” Nancy said, making the ginger roll her eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, the neighbors might see.”

“This is so stupid.” Barb shakes her head. “I’m just gonna drop you off.”

“Calm down, Barb. Come on. You promised that you’d go.” Nancy pleaded with her ‘baby doe’ face. “You’re coming. We’re gonna have a great time.”

“He just wants to get in your pants.”

Nancy chuckles with disbelief. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Nance… seriously. He invited you to his house. His parents aren’t home. Come on, you are not this stupid.”

“Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there.”

“Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade.” Barb cringes at the thought. “It’ll probably just be, like, a big orgy.”

“Gross.”

“I’m serious!”

“All right, well…” Nancy takes her seat belt off and starts unbuttoning her sweater. “You can be, like, my guardian. All right? Make sure I don’t get drunk and do anything stupid.”

“Ugh.” Barb said, shaking her head. She watches as her friend takes her top off and starts fiddling around in her purse for another one. “Is that a new bra?”

Nancy pauses. “No.”

“So, obvious, Nancy…”

“Hey.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What’s the weirdo doing?” Lucas asked, watching her sit at their D&D table and close her eyes.

“El?” Mike said, as they gathered around, waiting.

When she opens her eyes, she slowly gravitates to one of the pieces and picks it up. “Will.” She replies, showing it was the Wizard piece, the one that the boy always plays as.

“Superpowers.” Dustin said, as Lucas rolled his eyes, still not convinced about this whole thing.

“Did you see him? On Mirkwood? Do you know where he is?” Mike asks, just before she brushes the rest of the figures off the board and flips it over. She places the wizard piece on the board. “I don’t understand.”

“Hiding.” She replies, the boys looking at one another. She then places another figure down, surprising them.

“Who is that supposed to be?” Lucas asked, as Dustin perked up.

“The Ranger. Is that Stephanie?” He asked, as she nodded. “Are they hiding?” She nods again. “Together.” Another nod.

“From the bad men?” Mike asked, but she shakes her head in disappointment. “Then from who?”

And without saying another word she places another figure down.

It was a beast with two heads.

The Demogorgon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW ||

It took a while like she said, and luckily they had no trouble getting there, but what was troubling the young boy was that she wouldn’t tell him where they were going. Was she embarrassed by this place? Did something happen? He doesn’t know, but it’s gnawing at him.

“We’ve arrived.” She said, as they were coming up to it.

It was… a pretty big house, much bigger than his and even his friends’ houses. He wonders if this was one of the rich neighbourhoods or something like that. And sure enough… his questions would be answered when he happened to catch the name on the mailbox.

Oh.

Now he understands why she didn’t say anything.

“So this is the…” Was he choosing his words correctly? “The King’s house?”

“Yep.” Stephanie said, hand on the doorknob which miraculously opened. She rolls her blue eyes. “They still keep it unlocked.” They stepped inside, still gloomy and covered in vines and goo like the last two. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Will follows behind, observing everything that seemed a bit foreign for him. “I knew they were rich but I didn’t know they were that rich.” He said after observing art piece after art piece that he knows isn’t locally made.

“Yeah, they got crazy money.” She said, and her pace seemed to quicken without her noticing. She hustles into the parents room, opening the closet to find a safe. “Shit.” She forgot about the lock. “Where did that bastard put the key?”

Stephanie starts running around the bedroom, pulling open drawers, looking through trinkets, his wife’s jewelry box too – A curse word after every failed attempt.

“Steph?” Will said, worriedly.

“Just give me a second.” She snapped, and left the room. She starts opening the drawers from the tables in the hallway, visibly getting more annoyed with each second. “For fuck sakes–”

“Stephanie!”

“What?!” She slammed it shut, rattling everything that was on. The force and her tone seemed to shock him, and even take a small step back. She grips the table, closing her eyes to calm herself. “Fuck. I just…”

And when she opens them she finds herself staring at the boy she wanted to forget about. It was a picture of him on his swim team, the frame saying: Championship 1981. She just stares at with emotions the youngest Byers couldn’t figure out what they were.

“Steph?” He asked, slowly.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to you and Steve?”

She continues to stare at the photo for another minute before pushing herself to stand. “I think he still keeps that knife in his room.” Was what she muttered before heading in the opposite direction to another room.

Will could only wonder what really happened to them…

Just as the lights started to flicker.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT ||

Inside the most “fabulous” party of the year, Barb laid back in one of the pool chairs, listening to the terrible music that’s blasting in her ear as her best friend watches her boyfriend slice a hole into a beer can and start drinking it all in one go.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy asked, as he sat down and lit a cigarette.

“You’re not?” Steve asked, genuinely surprised.

“You are a cliche, you do realize that?”

“You are a cliche. What with your– your grades and your band practice.”

“I’m so not in band.”

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done, then?” He hands her the knife and a can.

“Okay.” She says, all giggly.

“You gotta make a little hole right in–”

“I got it.”

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche!” Tommy said, as he crushes his own can on his forehead.

Soon, everyone was chanting “Chug” as Nancy down a whole beer in under thirty seconds. Everyone cheered and laughed, proud at the achievement.

“Barb, you wanna try?” Nancy asked, holding the blade up.

“What? No. No, I don’t want to. Thanks.” She said, shaking her head. But after a quick back and forth badgering she finally gave in. She rips the items out of the girl’s hand, clearly upset. It wasn’t long before her judgment was clouding her mind and accidentally nicks herself.

“Whoa, Gnarly.” Tommy said, impressed by the deep cut.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked, worriedly.

“Yeah.” Barb said, trying to push her away.

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh, it’s– Steve stands up, and starts taking her over to the sliding door. “It’s, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.” He frowns. Shit of course.

But before he could say anything, Tommy had pushed Carol into the pool and then jumped in after her. Steve then shrugs, and lets a smirk play on his face as he does the same to Nancy before doing a cannonball.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW ||

Steph tries to contain herself as she enters his room. It was taking a lot of strength not to just start flipping things over, and tear those stupid pendants off the wall.

Stupid fucking house. Stupid fucking room. Stupid fucking Harrington. She grits her teeth, fighting back the tears in her eyes as she desperately tries to remember where he hid the blade.

She lets out a groan. “For fuck sake’s, man! Where did you put it?!” She yells, and kicks whatever was near her. She swears something must have fallen out from it, but she doesn’t even want to look.

God damn you, Harrington. She scolds, and rubs her face. How can he–

That’s when the light in his room flickered on and off scaring her half to death. “What the–”

“Stephanie!” Will’s voice shouted, kicking her into high gear.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, and races to find that blade.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT ||

As soon as Barb comes out of the bathroom, she immediately spots a certain someone heading up the stairs. “Nance! Nancy.” She shouts, getting her to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Just… upstairs. To change. I… fell in the pool.” Nancy said, feeling like she was on cloud nine. “Why don’t you go ahead and go home. I’ll just… I’ll get a ride or something.”

“Nance–”

“Barb, I’m fine.”

“This isn’t you.”

“I’m fine. Just go ahead and go home, okay?”

And then Nancy leaves her all alone, confused and heartbroken by her friend’s actions. But despite being hurt, she couldn’t just up and leave her drunken buddy like this. So…

She decides to wait.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Steve had found her some clothes she could change in, and he was grinning like a kid upon the thought of seeing his girlfriend in his clothes.

I’m such a dork. He tells himself as she calls out his name. “Yeah?” There was a look in her eyes that he’s never seen before, and honestly was turned on by it.

But ‘Fuck that’, says the universe, and the home phone starts to ring.

He groans, irritated. “Hang on a second–” He proceeds to run out of the room, and shouts, “Hey! Turn the music down in case it’s my parents.”

Nancy chuckles, cheeks flush because she was ready to lose her– wait. Did something just touch her leg? She looks down to find that a box was tipped over and had opened, and wonders when that happened. Did she accidently kick it without realizing? Or was it already like that? Frankly, curiosity got the best of her as she crouched down to try to fix it. But then, her actions slowed when she saw something.

The Wheeler picks up a paper – a flier – to her surprise was the missing poster of Stephanie Henderson.

“What?” She says, quietly, confusedly. Why was he keeping this? And that’s when she puts two and two together. She starts shifting through the small pile which was made up of photos, movie tickets, receipts from a record store, arcade tokens and– “Oh, my god.”

Suddenly, Steve comes jogging back in, relief on his face. “False alarm. It was just–”

“So who is she to you?” Nancy asked, standing up and flashing the memorabilia at him.

His face falls immediately. “Hey, that’s–”

“Is she the person that was rumored you pushed away?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve replies, trying to take the stuff away from her, but she ain’t budging.

“It’s nothing, or she’s nothing?”

“It’s– W-What? You jealous?” He asked, trying to play this thing off cool, but his girlfriend wasn’t stupid.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just curious.” Nancy replies, honestly. She takes another look at the photos in her hand before looking back at him. “I mean, if she isn’t your friend anymore, then why do you hang on to all this stuff? Or better question–”

“Nancy, stop, it’s just–”

“Why did you break it off?”

His brain short circuits again. “What?”

“I said, ‘Why did you break it off?’ I mean…” She flips through some of the photos he has, memorized. “From what I see, you two remind me of Barb and I. You two look like you were tied at the hip. So why break it off?”

“I…” Why couldn’t he fucking talk all of a sudden? “I didn’t, I–”

“So, she broke it off?” She said, eyebrow raised.

“No. I-I broke it off, she didn’t do anything–”

“So… why did you?”

“Nancy–”

“Look, I just want to understand you. I mean, every time I think I have you figured out you throw me through a loop.” She gives him a reassuring look as she picks up the box, shuffling whatever was remaining around. “I mean, from what I see, you seem like a completely different person then. I just wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad–”

Now it was her turn to look lost (and for Steve to lose all the color in his face). She frowns, slowly pulling out a small casing. “Is this a… bullet?”

“That’s nothing!” He manages to snag at least that away.

“Why do you have a bullet in the box?!” She asks, eyes blown wide.

He swallows. “Nancy–”

“Did you shoot her or something?”

“What?!” He scoffs. “No! Why would I shoot her?!”

“Well did she shoot you?”

“No! Nobody shot anybody, it was just–”

“Then why do you have a stray bullet cas–”

“‘CAUSE IT WAS MY FAULT!! OKAY?!” Steve snaps, startling them both (He can’t believe he just lost his cool like that). He swallows again, head spinning at the memories (Why did he fucking leave the box right there?). “I just… there was an incident and… it… shaped my decision, okay? But it didn’t involve me or her with a gun, it was… s-someone else. Someone I know. I don’t know why I’m holding onto it, I…” He sighs and grabs the box, holding it out for her to put the stuff away.

It takes her a moment to process it all, and she does put all the stuff in her hands away, but she remains silent the whole time. She’s never seen him act this way before.

It honestly concerned her.

Nancy breaks eye contact, and only reverses it when she gathers the right words. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry I intruded, I probably shouldn’t have but… I’m just trying to understand you.”

Steve shakes his head, still confused. “I-I…” He shrugs, and crosses his arms defensibly. “What’s there to understand?”

Nancy gestures to him and says, “Well, for starters, you’re an airhead and–”

“So?” He cuts in, as she holds her tongue and continues.

“And you’re arrogant, snarky, and sweet–”

“Sweet’s fine.”

“Of course. Sweet’s fine. I love how nice you are to me, Steve.” She then frowns for him. “However, that gets overshadowed by your… insecurities.”

He pauses, now it was his turn to take in those words (What the hell did she mean by that? He’s not… no). “I don’t… I don’t have any… any–”

“Steve.” Nancy takes a step closer. “I don’t know why the kid in these pictures decided to change into the one I’m seeing before me, but if that doesn’t have to do with any insecurities, then I’m not sure why you decided to make that change willingly.”

“I… W-Willingly?” He scoffs again. “What do you mean? I never change willingly? What are you even getting at, Nance?” He hasn’t changed. He’s never changed. What is she even getting at?

But Nancy looked at him with eyes full of pity and took another step closer. “I don’t know what the reason was for you two to stop being friends, but all I know, from what I gathered, she wasn’t the one to end it.” She places Steph’s flier on his chest that he subconsciously grabbed, and said one last thing before leaving his room. And that was,

“Maybe there was a good reason for you to end it, but that’s not an excuse for you to stop being who you really are.”

And Steve’s left with an epiphany he’s not sure he can decipher.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW ||

As soon as the lock was broken, she retrieved the gun from the safe and frantically told her companion to get down the stairs. Will and Steph’s hearts were in their ears, and it sped up when the light above the front door flickered.

“Shit–” She pulls the boy to a halt, and redirects them to the back door. “Go, go, go, go, go.”

She throws open the sliding door, and out into the backyard, but as soon as they step foot onto the ground, the lights around the empty pool start to flicker. The two of them stopped immediately and held their breaths. They weren’t sure where the beast was at, but it was definitely nearby ready to snatch them up.

They were afraid to even breathe or twitch. What if this thing really does appear out of thin air?

They both jolted when a loud growl came from somewhere inside the pool. Wasting no time, Steph taps Will on the arm and makes a shushing gesture, then waves him to follow her. The boy understood completely, and the two of them move slowly, so carefully that there’s not way–

The both of them screamed when two human hands grabbed onto the top of the pool ladder.

A girl’s head poked up, face battered and covered in grime, her glasses shattered and splattered with blood. The girl looked so fam–

“Nancy!!” She shouts, as something growls behind her, scaring all of them to their core. And when her eyes landed on the two of them, she desperately yelled for help just seconds before the beast’s claws wrapped around her head and pulled her back.

Will and Steph matched the girl’s scream, and the beast roared in delight that his prey was just right in front of it. Its claws could be seen grabbing the ladder, like it was trying to crawl out and feast.

That’s when the two of them booked it.

The guns rattled in their hands.

The tears in their eyes.

Whatever this place was, they knew…

This couldn’t get compared to hell itself.

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

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freelancearsonist · 3 days

Text

all that we see or seem

➔ Dieter Bravo x AFAB!Reader

➔ 5.7k words

➔ You moved to Hollywood in hopes of chasing your dreams; you get a lot more than you bargained for from your new boss, Dieter Bravo.

➔ Rated MA // dark fic, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used) and generally able-bodied, age gap (unspecified, reader is younger than dieter), vampire!dieter, blood/both consensual and non-consensual blood drinking, knife use, slight self-harm, gore of the mouth variety, pet names, takes place in 1983 bc i’m a sucker for changing settings

➔ this was requested from this prompt list by the very lovely @sp00kymulderr!! happy birthday darling, sorry this took so long but i hope it's worth the wait <3 thank you so much to @missredherring for this AMAZING header graphic ily 🖤

Los Angeles is a far cry from the little town you grew up in. It’s a seemingly endless maze, with more possibilities than you ever could’ve dreamed. It’s a little daunting, really. You step off your plane with your suitcase in hand, and you feel like the world is in the palms of your hands.

The harsh reality comes crashing in without warning.

LA is expensive, especially on your own. As the money you’d saved up to get you started dwindles much quicker than expected, your dreams only get further and further out of reach. Life always finds a way to fuck you over, and the city of angels does it quicker than anywhere else. The glitzy neon nightclubs and the glamor of Hollywood swiftly become an omen of doom rather than a beacon of hope. You’re in over your head, but it’s too late to back out now.

Auditions get put on the backburner. You work yourself to the bone as a server in a dumpy little diner, but it’s still barely enough to cover your basic expenses.

You wake up, you go to work, you come home, you go to sleep. The cycle repeats itself so quickly that your days all merge together into one, long, neverending nightmare.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears shortly before the first anniversary of your move. You’re scanning through the paper during your meal break when you see a help wanted ad. It’s normally the type of thing you would ignore, but a few things about it draw you in. The part that really catches your eye is the large, bold letters that proclaim “work closely with one of the biggest names in hollywood!” It seems too good to be true, and certainly something you’re not qualified for. But it could be a start–a way to get your foot through the door of the industry that brought you out here in the first place. Really, what’s the harm in trying?

You go to the library, type up your resume, and mail it in to the address listed in the ad. Realistically, you know that there must be hundreds of other applicants and you probably won’t get so much as a rejection letter back; but the needling little ‘what if’ in the back of your mind gives you a boost of hope that you’ve lived without for an achingly long time.

You get better than a letter–a broad, handsome man shows up at the diner late one night asking for you three days after you drop your resume into the local mail slot at the post office. Janine, the shaggy-haired waitress you work with almost every shift and have sort of become friends with, nudges you excitedly while you’re handing a ticket back to the kitchen.

“Honey, do you know who that is?” She nods her head over her shoulder towards a table in the corner of her section and you try to look over as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course you know who that is. His face is everywhere in this stupid town–magazine covers, billboards, movie theaters. Even with sunglasses obscuring the dark brown eyes that have made thousands swoon, you recognize Dieter Bravo. He’s bigger than Hasselhoff and Swayze combined.

“He’s asking for you,” Janine whispers. “By name. You know him?”

“Not yet,” you answer truthfully. You know without a doubt that he’s here because of your resume and that your entire world is about to change.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before and now you can definitively say that it doesn’t do him justice. He’s more handsome than any man has a right to be. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black trousers, an ensemble that stands out in the brightness of 1983 but yet perfectly complements the tanned tone of his skin. His shoulders could fill a doorway and his smile might actually melt you into a puddle. You can’t help but notice–with a hint of trepidation–that his canines are the sharpest you’ve ever seen, although that thought is quickly pushed from your mind when he greets you by name.

“Your resume is impressive.”

“No it’s not,” you respond with a little laugh before you can stop yourself, then you have to refrain from banging your head into the wall. What a great start to an interview.

But he laughs, and you can’t help feeling you’ve done something right. You’d do a hell of a lot worse just to hear that gorgeously deep, hearty chuckle again.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. You said all the right things. You’ve got exactly what I’m looking for as an assistant.”

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because this is much too good to be true.

“You’re not from LA,” he states factually. “What brought you here?”

You consider lying–coming up with some story that’s less pathetic than the truth. He’s appreciated your honesty thus far, though, and you don’t want to break a streak. “I wanted to act, but… it’s hard to get started when you don’t have any connections. So I’ve just been kind of… getting by.”

He nods and gives you a look over–assessing, you think. “We all have to start somewhere. But this isn’t an easy job.”

There’s something unreadable in his voice, but you choose to ignore it because you want nothing more than a chance to impress him. It’s not about ‘making it’ anymore; it’s about proving to Dieter Bravo that you’re worth taking a chance on.

“Neither is this,” you reply with a vague wave at the diner around you. “If I’m not covered in fryer grease at the end of the day, it’s a good job to me.”

He chuckles again and it washes over you like fresh water after years of drought. You want more of him–more of his charm, more of his warmth.

“When can you start?”

You ask for two weeks to leave your diner gig on good terms, and he’s gracious enough to accommodate you. As the days tick past, the anticipation ramps up and time seems to move slower. You’ve never been so excited for a new job. Normally, your gut twists with anticipation and your mind swirls with every little minute detail that could go wrong–but not now. No, now you’re just excited. The possibilities of Hollywood finally seem to be within your reach again, and it all starts with this job.

You learn a lot about Dieter within five minutes of starting on your first day. For one, he’s incredibly personable. He greets you himself and vows to show you the ropes. There’s no third party to teach you everything you need to know, it’s just him. Just the two of you. You appreciate that immensely, because you’ll be serving him directly as his assistant. There’s no better person to learn from when it comes to his desires and routines than the man himself.

Two, he wears many different masks. It’s a little spooky, the way his demeanor changes depending on who he’s dealing with. He can be the sweetest, most charming man you’ve ever spoken to, then turn to a producer and be a complete hardass all in the name of getting things done. He knows exactly what persona he needs to wear for each person he interacts with–it’s all very calculated. You suppose all actors have to be capable of that; the mark of a good thespian is being instantly able to pretend you’re someone you’re not.

Still, it’s a little chilling. If you didn’t see it in some form or another with every person you meet on set, you’d be a little concerned. Dieter just makes it look like adaptation–fitting into his surroundings as a means of staying afloat. He’s been in this industry for a long time, he knows what works; and, subsequently, what doesn’t.

As far as the job goes, it’s a nice change of pace from what you’ve become accustomed to. You spend nights on set with him, fetching his coffee order or running little errands while he’s busy shooting. The hours aren’t unreasonable, and it pays double what the diner did. Now that you’re not struggling to get by financially, you have the free time you need to start pursuing your dreams again.

You have only Dieter to answer to, which is a definite learning curve. Directors, producers, and even other actors chase after your favors, but Dieter tells them unequivocally to fuck off. You’re his–it’s a heady feeling each time he reasserts it. It makes for easy work when you’re not being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously. He asks for what he needs when he’s around and he gives you a list of tasks to complete when he’s not. He’s a little eccentric–he tells you he can only work after dark because his eyes are sensitive–but it’s nice, falling into a routine after so long of working unconventional hours at a job where no two days are the same.

Still, as days turn into weeks by his side, you wonder exactly what version of Dieter he’s presenting to you. Which face is the most authentic? You want to believe he’s himself with you, but you’re not quite naive enough to convince yourself of that. The thing that bothers you the most is that you want him to feel comfortable enough to drop the facades around you. You want to get to know the real Dieter Bravo, underneath all the masks. But you also swore to yourself, when you accepted this job, that you would be nothing but professional–and wanting to get to know him so intimately is definitely a step beyond just being his employee.

To his credit, he’s strictly professional–even if you wish he wasn’t at times. There’s a lot of rumors and gossip about him, about his hedonism and the life he supposedly leads at night, but you don’t see that facet of him. With you, he’s friendly, kind, and respectful. He’s the perfect gentleman–and that’s how you know that you’re not getting a full glimpse of the real him. There’s too much contradiction between the rumors and the Dieter that you interact with.

No matter how straight-laced you try to be, you can’t help wondering what it’ll take to get a look at the real Dieter Bravo.

You think he starts to peek through when Dieter asks if you would be willing to work longer hours and be more of a personal assistant than a production assistant. You know him inside and out, he tells you, and it would be a pain in the ass to teach a whole new person how to deal with his errands. He even offers you a sizable raise when you pretend to be contemplating it, like you weren’t bursting at the seams to say yes before he even finished asking.

The sad–maybe even pathetic–truth of the matter is that you’re falling for him. Every facet of his charm, from his darkly passionate eyes to his easy humor, have you completely bewitched and ready to ignore the way your hair stands on end each time his gaze meets yours. You’ll take any small fraction of him that you can get.

He eases you into your additional duties, at least; that much can be said in his favor. He starts you out with small tasks, like ordering his groceries and picking up his dry cleaning. Dieter’s so kind and patient as he explains how he likes everything done–he’s particular, but not unreasonable. He even gives you a grand tour of his home so you can see exactly where and how he likes everything done–it’s like finally getting that real glimpse of him that you’ve been hoping for.

His Sherman Oaks mansion looks like something straight out of a Bram Stoker novel on the outside, yet the inside is a testament to the warm side of his personality that you’re more familiar with. It’s decorated in shades of orange and red, with patterns that are a little out of date but still manage to feel intentional. It gives the impression of someone who was more comfortable and sure of himself in the 70’s, or at least someone who hasn’t quite adjusted to the new trends that came with the turn of the decade. The walls are covered with art–most of it signed with his familiar “DB” in the bottom right hand corner. It’s neat, but not so neat that it feels staged. It fits the Dieter Bravo that you know perfectly, and it even starts to feel like home to you when you start spending more time there with him.

There’s never anyone else around when you’re there. For someone who has a reputation for throwing the liveliest parties in all of Hollywood, he doesn’t actually do a lot of partying. Not when you’re around, at least. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide that aspect of himself from you. If he has to host, he sends you home early or lets you know in advance that you’re getting a paid night off. You’re almost disappointed–parties have never really been your thing, sure, but you feel like you need to experience at least one of his.

Plus, people are starting to talk. You hear it on set first; his co-stars whispering about how he’s gone soft, how he’s gotten boring. Even the tabloids are starting to wonder if they’ve seen the last infamous Dieter Bravo party, which were once highly coveted and exclusive events. The few times he’s hosted lately have been small, quiet affairs–definitely not the big, star-studded shebangs that he’s gained a reputation for.

A rumor even starts circulating that he’s finally decided to settle down with a nice girl, which makes your stomach twist with a little green monster that shouldn’t be there. He’s your employer, you reason. That’s all. No matter how friendly he is, no matter how much he flirts with you, no matter how much he compliments your perfect cup of coffee, that’s all he is. Your boss. And yet, despite your constant self-assertion, your brain just can’t seem to accept it. You know you shouldn’t want anything more than that, and yet you just can’t seem to stop yourself from hoping.

“What’s going on with you?”

You’re in the midst of trying to sort through the files in his upstairs home office so you can find out when his insurance needs to be renewed when you hear the voice, loud and clear due to the open floor plan downstairs. Sound travels like crazy up the double-wide staircase with Dieter’s office door right at the top. You couldn’t shut it out even if you wanted to–and you don’t. God help you, you’re a little nosy and a little curious.

“Nothing.” That’s Dieter’s voice, but you don’t recognize the other.

“Bullshit. You’re not yourself.” It’s a deep, rich tone that you’ve never heard before and it immediately has your interest hooked. Dieter doesn’t get many visitors, much less such purposeful ones. Most people like to schmooze him, but evidently not this unidentified man.

“I’m trying to be different,” Dieter explains half-heartedly. “It’s time I cleaned up a bit.”

“No. Cleaning up your act is nothing more than a good way to get yourself caught. Things happen in the party climate, that’s how you fit in. Things don’t just happen to nice rich actors.”

Caught? Caught doing what, exactly? You creep closer to the open door on light feet, curiosity peaked.

Dieter sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up? Waste away after… how long?”

“Maybe I should,” Dieter retorts–there’s grit in his tone now, maybe even bitterness. “Maybe I never should’ve taken the deal in the first place. You don’t see how fucked up this all is?”

“So, what? You’ve gotten everything you could’ve possibly wanted, and now you’re tired of playing the game? Pathetic.” There’s a sneer in the tone of this unidentified speaker and you don’t like it. You want to jump to Dieter’s defense, but something tells you this is a conversation that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.

“Whatever, man,” Dieter scoffs dismissively.

There’s noise downstairs now–a slight thud and what sounds like Dieter grunting as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

“What changed?”

“Fuck off,” Dieter spits.

“What. Changed?”

“You weren’t fucking honest with me.”

“Bullshit,” the stranger growls back. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“No, you said everything I wanted, that was the deal. Remember?” It’s quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if Dieter’s pacing. He does that, when he starts to get stressed. “I’m still alone, though.”

“That’s your own fault,” the stranger replies–voice a little softer now. “I didn’t say I would hand you your dreams on a silver platter. You make your own destiny. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that little qualifier.”

“I can’t bring someone else into this shit and you know it,” Dieter replies. The venom is gone from his voice now–he just sounds done. Exhausted and spent.

“You can, but you won’t.” There’s a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Start acting like yourself again before you raise too much suspicion.”

“Fine,” Dieter sighs heavily.

There’s a few long moments of silence, and then you hear the heavy solid oak front door shut. Presumably the guest has gone, and while you’re eager to sneak down and see if you can catch a glimpse of who it might’ve been, it’s far too risky with Dieter down there. Something tells you that he should never find out about the way you just eavesdropped on that conversation. You don’t know who he was talking to, or what kind of deal they were discussing–you just know that it’s serious, and definitely above your paygrade.

“Did you find that paperwork?”

You didn’t hear Dieter come upstairs–his sudden question from right behind you makes you jump and whirl around to look at him. You fight to keep your calm as you catch your breath; the last thing you want to do is clue him in that you overheard his conversation with his unknown guest.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here,” you answer after a thick gulp.

“You’re a doll,” he proclaims with a wide smile. How easily he picks up the face he wears with you after a conversation that clearly upset him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you hum with a smile. “This entire room is a nightmare. It’s a miracle you ever find anything. You need to get, like… some filing cabinets. At the very least.”

“I’ll, uhh… get right on that,” he says in a way that makes you sure he definitely won’t get right on it.

Despite the nerves still thrumming through your veins, you laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a doll,” he repeats with his trademark grin. “Oh! Hey, uhh… you have tomorrow off. Paid, obviously.”

“Why?” You ask before you can think better of it.

He seems surprised–you don’t normally ask questions, especially about paid vacation days. “Work stuff I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“Okay,” you answer with a slight frown. “Sure I can’t help?”

He actually does seem to be contemplating it for a moment–his eyes scan over your body, and it’s like he’s considering you more than the actual offer. “No, honey, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” You take a short breath, then head towards the door–this was the last task on your list for the night. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he follows you down the stairs. “No. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You feel heat fluttering underneath your skin at the pet name–he uses them often and they never fail to make your heart pick up pace. It’s like he can tell, because his eyes linger on your lips for a moment before trailing down to the pulse point on the left side of your neck. You wonder for a second if he can actually see it beating, but you quickly push that ridiculous thought away.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you tomorrow?”

His eyes are still trained on your neck like he’s completely zoned out or something. You watch as his tongue slowly glides over his bottom lip, trance-like; it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers after a long moment–he’s standing so close now, you didn’t even notice him closing in. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” You want nothing more than to grab him and pull him in, to kiss him like your life depends upon it. He sounded so upset and every bone in your body is screaming to comfort him. The way he’s looking at you right now, you don’t think he’d mind at all.

Instead you take a deep breath, grab your bag from the bench next to the door, and bid him goodnight.

Dieter doesn’t seem to realize that you’re always working, whether you’re on the clock or not. Even on ‘off’ days, you get loads of calls for scheduling requests and other tasks. Your saving grace is your trusty day planner—it holds both of your schedules, all neatly color-coded for maximum efficiency.

The worst thing you could’ve done on a weekend leading up to awards season is leave it in Dieter’s home office—and yet, as you frantically dig through your tote bag and your desk, that seems to be exactly what you’ve done.

You know Dieter’s got whatever event he’s hosting at home, but you can’t keep taking calls and scribbling notes on napkins without your schedule in front of you. The last thing you want to do is overbook him at a time where every single interview counts.

With a heavy sigh, you dial Dieter’s home number. It rings for what seems like eternity, and just as you’re about to hang up an unfamiliar voice answers.

“Hello?”

With a sigh of relief, you ask, “Hi, is Dieter there?”

“He’s busy.” The voice is high and sweet, yet her tone says she couldn’t be more irritated.

“Okay… umm, it’s kind of important.”

The stranger sighs dramatically. “I can take a message.”

“I just… I left something there, and I need to come get it as soon as possible. But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

This time when she speaks, her tone is considerably more friendly. “Oh! Yeah, come on over. The more the merrier!”

You can’t help your intrigue, although you really don’t want to intrude without Dieter’s say-so. “Are you sure? I could always come tomorrow, I guess.”

“No no, come! It’s a party, everyone’s welcome!” Then the line goes dead without any further discussion.

You consider redialing in the hopes of speaking and clearing your visit with Dieter, but you doubt you’ll actually get through to him–and really, what harm would a quick visit do? You know exactly where you left it, on the desk in his office. It’ll be five minutes tops, a quick in and out. He might never even know that you’d been there.

You shake off the curious sense of foreboding that overtakes your mind as you grab your keys and lock your apartment door behind you.

It’s a twenty minute ride to Dieter’s house–a lot of time to spend thinking. At the forefront of your mind is that peculiar conversation you overheard last night; you’re not entirely sure why, really. Whoever that man was sounded almost as if he was in some kind of position of power over Dieter, and you don’t have even an educated guess at who that could possibly be. Dieter’s his own boss and he doesn’t take bullying–you’ve never heard someone get away with bossing him around like that before. He’s constantly in some weird form of pissing match with the directors and producers of whatever film he’s working on; he’s never seemed to be good at taking orders, even when he’s supposed to. You’ve heard many a rant about how much he values the ‘freedom of expression’. It all serves to make the mysterious visitor more confusing. Who does Dieter have to answer to?

The cab pulls up in front of his gated home before you’re able to find a plausible answer. You instruct the driver to keep the meter running since you’ll only be a minute before you step out into the crisp late-January air.

The grounds are a lot quieter than you expect them to be as the guard on duty opens the gate and closes it behind you. One thing Dieter’s famous for is noise–his parties are always reported as loud and exciting affairs akin to the fraternities in his favorite movie Animal House. There's no noise at all today, though, and it makes you curious. Is it really a party? Or was the stranger who answered the phone maybe his only guest? If the latter is the case, why would she want you to join in?

There’s a pale man in a cheap-looking suit waiting just inside the door, a tray of filled wine glasses in his gloved hands. “Take one,” he instructs, his eyes distant like he’s looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh, no thank you, I just need to–”

“Take one,” he repeats. “Master’s orders.”

Master? Of course Dieter would be into that.

The wine is a deep red, probably that expensive vintage shit that he’s always raving about. You prefer the grocery store stuff yourself, not just because it’s all you can afford. A drink never hurts, though, and you could certainly use something to take the edge off–because that tingling sense of foreboding has only gotten stronger since your arrival.

You take a glass and swirl its currant-colored liquid around. It seems more viscous than any wine you’ve had before–probably a mark of its age, but that’s just guesswork on your part. You take a small sip, then nearly gag. It’s like drinking a pile of melted pennies. You swallow it down with a grimace anyway since you don’t want to make a scene of spitting it out in front of the server. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that you’re eager to wash out–thankfully, the kitchen is on your route to the stairs. You quickly deposit the glass on a table once you’re out of the server’s eyesight, then head down the hall in a desperate search for water.

Once you’re out of the foyer, there are people everywhere. Very subdued people, at that–draped over furniture like throw blankets, some even laying on the floor. You consider checking one’s pulse until he twitches and lets out a muffled groan. Clearly high on something, you’re just not sure what. You nearly trip over one person and they actually hiss at you like some kind of feral cat. Your skin starts to crawl with every step you take. Even more important than your discomfort, though, is finding Dieter. What if he’s like this, too? Do you need to call someone?

You notice a dull ache starting in your gums as you make it to the kitchen–thankfully you’re familiar with his home, and you have a glass of water in your hands within no time. It seems that no matter how much you drink, though, that coppery-bloody taste never leaves your mouth. What the hell was that stuff?

There’s a short-haired blonde woman propped up against the wall underneath the mounted phone; she reaches out a lazy hand in some sort of greeting. She looks vaguely familiar, like someone you might’ve seen on the set of one of Dieter’s films.

“You made it!” She says with a lazy smile. She must be the woman you spoke to earlier, although you’re not sure how she can identify you.

“Yeah. Where’s Dieter?” The longer you’re here, the more worried you become. Something isn’t right, and your skin is prickling with apprehension.

“Upstairs,” she murmurs, then her eyes flutter shut and she slumps a little further down. She’s visibly breathing, at least.

For a moment, you consider picking up the phone and ringing the police. Would that cause more harm than good? Dieter must be aware of what’s going on here–you know you should talk to him before you do anything.

Your mission to find your planner momentarily forgotten, you make your way through the living room towards the stairs.

You check the office at the top first–there’s a few bodies zonked out on the couch, but none of them are Dieter. With trepidation in your very soul, you make your way down the hall. Each room is more of the same–people in varying states of unrest, no sign of the man you’re looking for. Most of them have red-stained lips and you eye more than one smashed glass along your journey. Your own mouth is starting to get alarmingly sore, but you ignore it in favor of finding Dieter.

Each step you take drives your worries deeper into your skull. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s knocked out like all of his guests, or hurt, or something worse?

This is the first time you’ve breached the bubble of his bedroom. None of your work has ever involved this room, and while you’re a naturally nosey type of person, there’s something deeply personal and sacred about the space someone sleeps in.

Ignoring the steady throbbing in your gums, you knock once before pushing open the door.

Dieter’s alone in his room, sprawled out like a starfish in a sea of rumpled sheets at the center of his massive bed. Something akin to a groan of horror escapes your throat as you see the state he’s in. He’s paler than a corpse and drenched in sweat, chest barely rising and falling with breath.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place. Your entire body breaks out in a cold sweat as you notice the knife in his right hand and the deep gash in the crook of his left arm, right where an IV would normally be set. You can smell the blood draining from him, you can even taste it in the air–or maybe that’s just the lingering taste of whatever you drank downstairs.

Your stomach churns violently with the sudden realization of what you’ve done, of what you’ve drank.

“Dieter!” You manage to choke out while your brain tries to remember how to send the signals required for your body to fucking move.

He lifts his head shakily, brown eyes widening after a long moment of trying to recognize the face he’s looking at. “No no no,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re not supposed t-to be here. You’re.. y-you’re supposed to be a-at home.”

A sharp, shattering pain in your top gum snaps your brain back into action. In a flash you’re crawling across a seemingly endless desert of mattress and it feels like you’ll never reach him. Everything is moving so slowly–each movement seems to take a hundred times the effort it should.

You spit out a mouthful of blood as the pain heightens, barely registering the two upper canines that go with it.

“What the fuck have you done?” You sob, uselessly pawing at his slashed left arm. It’s a precise cut straight across the artery–your hands are sticky and soaked with red the moment you touch him. Pressure, your brain screams at you. Put pressure on the wound.

“A real artist must suffer,” he mumbles weakly–then, even quieter, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re dying.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore. It’s higher, breathier.

“You drank it, d-didn’t you?” He asks, ignoring your statement. His distant eyes are trained on the sharp fangs that have pushed your canines out. “Fuck. Fuck! You were n-never supposed to…”

“Shut up, shut up,” you plead. Every shaky breath seems to cost him years. “How do I fix this? How do I fix you?”

“Thirsty,” he mumbles. There’s water on the sideboard, your brain reminds you. You don’t even remember bringing the glass with you, much less setting it down. Everything is so fuzzy. Your arm doesn’t move nearly as fast as it should when you reach for the glass, and Dieter’s hand weakly comes up to stop you.

“Not water,” he croaks. “Need… need…”

He can’t seem to form the words required to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to, though. You know.

“You’re not dying on me, Bravo.” You take the knife from his slack right hand before he can stop you and grit your sore teeth together as you slash it across your palm.

“N-no, don’t…” But he doesn’t resist as you hold your bleeding palm to his mouth. His empty eyes flash back to life with the first taste, and then he takes your hand in his own and drinks greedily. You watch with nothing short of disbelief as the cut on his arm seals itself right before your eyes.

“You were supposed to stay away from this,” he murmurs as his tongue sweeps across your palm. “Why the fuck are you here, baby?”

You don’t even remember anymore. Everything is hazy, everything hurts. It’s a chore just to keep your eyes open.

“Damn it,” he growls–pushing your hand away from his blood-smeared mouth seems to take all his willpower. “I never wanted this for you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur as you slump down against his sheets. They’re so soft and light, and you want to cocoon yourself in them for the rest of time. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’d you have to come save me? Huh?” His voice sounds so far away that you’re not even sure he’s really speaking.

“I love you.” It’s okay to say that, because he’ll never actually find out. It’s just a dream, after all; you’ll wake up in the morning confused but totally okay.

“You were never supposed to,” his voice echoes from some plain of existence far, far away. “Damn it honey, stay awake just a minute longer.”

You try, but your eyes are so heavy. He sighs heavily, as if he knows it’s useless.

“Promise you’ll still love me when you wake up,” he pleads through the tunnel that separates you.

Nodding saps the last of your strength, so you let your eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

You feel his lips against yours and his coppery kiss nearly brings you back from the verge of sleep. In the end, though, your throbbing head wins. Sleep takes hold quickly despite your feeble resistance.

How strange it is to fall asleep in a dream.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my lovelies <3

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