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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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Missed Connection 3

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Listen, for my fellow Californians, I am aware there is little to no grass on Mt. Hollywood, this is fiction and I will make grass grow wherever I want it to!

Part 1 Part 2

“Dani, she wants to hang out with me today.”

You’re pacing in your apartment, AirPods in your ears, your voice just a touch below becoming shrill.

“Okay, I fail to see the problem here.”

“She said she’ll pick me up tonight. Is this a date? I don’t know anything about anything right now.”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

You throw your hands up, “Of course I want it to be a date! Have you seen her?”

Dani’s laughter crackles through your headphones, making you groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m just having a tough time feeling bad for you. Hang on- DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING BLINKER, YOU STUPID-“

You wince and turn the volume on your phone down as she yells profanities at some anonymous commuter. Some of the things that come out of her mouth are enough to make you cringe, but you have to laugh at her antics.

“Okay, sorry. LA. You know. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah! You have accidentally run into the world’s It Girl twice, and now she wants to hang out with you. Who cares if it’s a date or not? Woo her if it isn’t, make your move if it is!”

You’re going to wear a path in your rug if you keep pacing like this. You don’t stop.

“It’s not that easy! I’m awkward, dude. I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Dani sighs so loud you think she might hang up on you.

“Let’s be real here. Besides knocking her off her feet twice, you haven’t had to make a move. She’s doing all the leg work for you. Just fucking put on something nice, and enjoy the ride!”

You know she’s right. Even if it isn’t a date, you have the privilege of hanging out with someone incredible. You straighten your spine and stop your pacing.

“You’re right. I’ve got this.”

“You’ve got this! Don’t forget to tell me all about it as soon as possible. I’m living my dreams through you. Actually, you should ask if Emma is single for me; maybe have her pass along my number….”

“Goodbye, Dani,” you laugh, phone in hand.

“Think about it! We could go on double-“

You hang up the phone, ending the conversation. You have a few hours before you need to get ready. Whatever Jenna is taking you to do doesn’t require daylight because she’s not coming to get you until nightfall.

You’re dressed and ready far too early. Your nerves are making you feel so queasy you wonder if this is a good idea. Maybe you’d rather sit in your apartment alone and freak out about the time you almost went on a maybe date with Jenna Ortega. The idea of that alone strengthens your resolve. You will do this. It’s not like she’s going to murder you…you think.

In an effort to calm your anxiety, you leave your apartment and wait outside. Pacing has become your new thing, apparently, because you’re practically blazing a trail in the parking lot concrete. You consider calling Dani but decide against it. She’d probably yell about how lucky you were and tell you to buck up.

An SUV pulls into the lot, but you ignore it, too busy with your worrying to notice. It isn't until it pulls up next to you that you give it any attention. The black-tinted window rolls down, and your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Jenna is smiling at you behind the wheel, her fingers drumming on it. She’s twenty minutes early.

“I was going to park and give myself about ten minutes to be nervous before I let you know I was here. So…you’ve kind of ruined that for me,” she says with an embarrassed smile on her face.

You stop pacing and stare. She’s nervous. You’re nervous. Suddenly the idea of her being anxious makes you feel it less. You walk up to the car and rest your hands on the window frame.

“I came out here because I was too anxious to sit in my apartment for another minute.”

Her face relaxes as you speak, realizing you’re both feeling the same way.

“Well, get in then. Our simultaneous meltdowns will have to happen on the way up.”

You open the car door and climb in, the window rolling up as you close the door.

“Up?” You ask, buckling your seatbelt.

“Up,” she parrots back, not giving you further context.

“You haven’t told me what we’re doing.”

“There's a meteor shower tonight,” she says as she pulls out of your parking lot, the music from her car radio playing quietly.

You turn to watch her, curiosity getting the better of your nerves, “Yeah, there is. I’m surprised you know about that.”

She scoffs, “Why? You think actors don’t like the sky just as much as anyone else?”

“No,” you laugh, “no, of course not. I just figured you’d be so busy. When do you even have time for stuff like that?”

Her eyebrows raise, and she tilts her head to the side, glancing over at you. “Right now.”

You nod, feeling a little stupid. You chalk it up to still being starstruck. At least in the car, it was impossible for you to accidentally tackle her this time, though the image of purposefully falling on top of her isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever thought of. You widen your eyes at the thought, chastising yourself for how out of line it was. You still don’t really know if this is a date.

You look over at her and catch her chewing her bottom lip. She’s still nervous. The thought of that makes you feel giddy. Her eyes leave the road for a second to look over at you, and she smiles again, looking back out the windshield.

“I think you’re going to like this. Well, I hope you do, because if not, I’ll overthink it for the next lifetime.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll like anything you have planned,” you blurt out, immediately regretting the way your voice goes up an octave.

She just continues to smile, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. A song you recognize starts playing through the speakers, and you hum along to it, trying your best to look out the window and not stare at her as she drives. It’s more difficult than you had imagined it would be.

When her car pulls into the Griffith Park Observatory, you know you’re totally screwed. Either she has you perfectly pinned, or your tastes in a fun night out are so similar there's no way you’re not going to fall in love with her.

She parks her car and turns to you, “This is it. Is this okay?”

“Okay? Jenna, this is fucking great.” You reassure her, maybe a little overenthusiastically.

The reaction she gives you makes your being a bit of a fool worth it. The tension in her shoulders you hadn't noticed before dissipates, the shallow lines between her eyebrows smooth out, and her eyes crinkle in the corners. She gets out of the car, and you follow, waiting at the front while she grabs something from the back seat. When she rounds the car, she’s carrying a rolled up blanket and a tote bag. You can hear glasses clinking and can’t help the devious grin that takes control of your face.

“What do you have there?”

She shrugs, making her way past you toward the park, “Come find out.”

You follow her, jogging to catch up. She leads you down a path behind the observatory through a thin clutch of trees. You’ve been here enough to know where she’s going; everyone in LA hikes Mount Hollywood at least once. It’s late enough that there aren’t many people out, and in casual clothes, Jenna blends in with the rest of them.

You’re content to walk beside her, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. In fact, you know you’re the luckiest person in the world because she steals glances at you every few minutes as you walk. She turns off the path toward a grassy hill and stops, unfurling the blanket and laying it out. She sits, arranging the bag in her lap, and you take your place next to her, your shoulders brushing.

She pulls a bottle of wine from the bag, holds it up for you to take as she digs around the bottom of it. You laugh, eyeing the label.

“Ma’am, I don't think you’re old enough for this. Am I supposed to drink it alone?”

She frowns at you, her arm up to her elbow in the bag, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay, okay. Jenna Ortega is a bad boy type, huh?”

She snorts, “Oh yeah, a bottle of wine on a blanket really screams bad boy.”

She stops looking at you and opens the bag with both hands, peering inside of it with a frown.

“Slight problem, though,” she pulls out a corkscrew and hands it to you, returning to the bag. “I think I forgot cups.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk, using the corkscrew to open the bottle. With the cork dislodged, you take a swig from the bottle and grin.

“We don’t need them, here.” You hand the bottle over to her, and she sets the bag aside, watching you closely.

She takes a sip, her eyes still on your face. She seems to be looking for something there, but she gives no indication of what it is. After a moment, she hands the bottle back to you and leans back on her elbows, her face pointed to the sky.

“It’s starting,” she says, pointing up.

You drink another gulp and mirror her, resting the bottle on your side. You watch the pinpoints of light streak across the sky, their tails turning white as they burn up. Thousands of them shower over you, and you almost forget where you are until Jenna’s pinky brushes yours, and suddenly the falling rocks in the sky are not even close to the most interesting thing in the world. You turn your head to look at her, her eyes still on the sky.

The flashes of the meteors spark in her eye, and the moon shines down on her cheekbones, and suddenly you feel the need to drink more wine. You turn and take a healthy gulp, offering the bottle to her. She smiles politely and takes it, drinking from it twice before resting it between you and wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She tilts her head back again, her posture relaxed.

“You’re supposed to be admiring the meteors, y/n.”

You feel heat rise into your cheeks, and your eyes widen in embarrassment. You jerk your head up, and she giggles at your side. You reach for the bottle at the same moment she does, and your fingers brush again, quickly turning your attention to your hand. You look up, and she’s already looking at you, her expression shy. She hands you the bottle, and you drink, passing it back to her.

In an effort to relieve the clear tension that you don't know how to handle, you break the silence.

“So what’s it like?”

She swallows, rests the bottle on her leg, “What’s what like?”

“Fame, fortune, the love of the masses?”

She sighs, “It kind of came as a surprise. I know that sounds stupid because of my job, but it really did.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

“No, it definitely does. And I’m grateful, I really am. I just wasn’t ready for how insane it was going to be.”

“I mean, there have to be perks, though, right?”

“Of course there are. Actually, I’m going to the Met Gala next week. That’s a major perk.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “That sounds terrifying. There’s a reason I stay behind the camera.”

Jenna sits up and looks down at you, a spark of an idea in her eye. You frown, waiting to hear what she has to say.

“You should come. To the Gala.”

You snort, “Absolutely not. Jenna, no way.”

But it’s too late. She's excited, nodding, pushing the wine bottle into your hands.

“Yes way! Come! It’ll be so much more fun if you’re there.”

You take another drink, smile around the mouth of the bottle, “I’ll consider it. But only for work. There is no way I’m going anywhere near that red carpet.”

“It’s not red this year.”

“That does not change the situation.”

Jenna does not drop the idea for the rest of the night. The meteor shower is quickly forgotten as you both take turns sipping from the bottle of wine, talking. She tells you about the dress she’s wearing to the gala, gushes over it for longer than you realized anyone could speak on a garment. You enjoy it, watching her talk animatedly about her stylist and the designer. As the bottle empties and inhibitions lower, you both grow more comfortable with each other. The awkwardness from the beginning of the night fades away, and you quickly find yourself at ease with her again.

You’re not sure what time it is when she orders an Uber, both of you laughing and stumbling back to the parking lot. When the car stops at your apartment, you want to kiss her. You want her to show you a sign, any sign that it’s okay. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a stupid mistake, though, and end up jumping out of the car right as she leans toward you.

You dip your head down into the car, “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’ll see you soon.”

She looks up at you, her eyes hopeful, “Get ready for New York. I’m going to convince you to go if it’s the last thing I do.”

You smirk, shaking your head, “Good night!”

You shut the door and watch the car pull out of your lot, a lopsided grin on your face. When it’s out of sight, you head inside, ready to tell Dani the whole story. And maybe try to find a reason to work at the Met Gala. One that has more to do with your portfolio, and less to do with brown eyes and freckles.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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sc0tters · 7 months

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The Day It Went Down | Trevor Zegras

summary: you haven’t seen Trevor for weeks, so when he lands up at your door you can’t help it when you fall back into old ways.

part one of the babies and buddies series

warnings: sexual themes, fingering, p in v (unprotected), swearing.

word count: 1.66k

author notes: you guys have been waiting for this one but the Trevor and Hughes sister AU is officially here! I have been writing this piece for days late at night so a lot of it might not make sense but she’s here and she’s happy so we will accept here as it is.

To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door was an understatement.

It was a humid Californian afternoon and you had been sat on your floor getting ready for the a night out with friends when there was a knock at the door “Z?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened your door.

The boy took in your sight as you were currently sporting an orange dress that complimented your freshly painted nails “interesting look.” Trevor smiled motioning to the curling rollers that were still in your hair “may I?” He added as you nodded pushing your door open further to let him in.

Your living room hadn’t changed since the hockey player last saw it with everything including the pictures of your brothers and family scattered around your apartment. It reminded Trevor of just who you were “what do you want?” Your words weren’t meant to come out as harsh as they had done so “missed you.” Trevor’s confession came out soft and cute.

What one would have made you smile honestly made you want to pull your hair out “sure you aren’t meant to be saying that to Dixie?” Your arms crossed unintentionally pushing your breasts up “you jealous of her?” The hockey player smirked as he moved across the room to stand with you. The rumours of them had been coming thick and fast since April but now as you two were into June you figured that it only could have gotten more serious for the two of them.

Trevor let his hands run over the satin fabric of your dress as your hands reached up to pull the roller from your hair “why would I be jealous if you don’t want me?” You blinked raking your fingers through your hair “we were only just sleeping together after all.” Your words made him frown as it felt like a punch to the gut.

Twelve months ago you two ended up sharing a drunk night together after you were in the same bar that he was in celebrating a big win. You were stood at the bar waiting for a drink and that was truly all Trevor needed to come up and talk to you.

The boy sighed as he forced your face to look at his “we weren’t just sleeping together.” His finger brushed along your cheek “look I’ve got to leave in thirty minutes.” You sighed pushing away from him as you walked back to your room.

Trevor was hot on your tail as he grew alarmed “a date?” The words felt foreign as they danced on his tongue “what I do is none of your business now Trevor.” You laughed shaking your head.

It felt hypocritical coming from the boy “you think he could fuck you like I do?” Trevor walked up behind you letting his breath send shivers down your spine “he could fuck me even better.” You weren’t even going out with a guy but the boy clearly didn’t know that.

His hands pushed up your dress causing you to gasp “you sure about that baby?” The hockey player grunted running his finger along a high part of your thigh “if I felt your panties they wouldn’t be soaked?” He added watching as your head leaned back against his chest eyes rolling back into your head as your jaw went slack.

Your body melted at his touch “so dry,” the game you were playing was one that you were close to losing “tell me to stop and I will.” Trevor pulled your dress even higher revealing your black panties.

Instead of talking you remained silent letting out a little gasp as his fingers slipped under the fabric “please Z.” You begged finally giving the boy a green light to have his way with you.

The hockey player smirked moving his hand to cup your pussy “fucking hell baby.” Trevor groaned two fingers teasing your clit before he moved them down your slit to thrust them into your pussy.

Your soaked cunt wrapped around his fingers making you both feel hot “Trev.” You moaned as the hockey player used his other hand to wrap around your neck pushing your head up of that he could kiss your lips “I know baby, I know.” His lips were rough against yours as he let out a grunt squeezing his hand around your neck when your eyes locked onto his.

For someone who was getting ready for girls night you were surprisingly horny as you squeezed around the hockey players fingers “you enjoying this?” Trevor smirked watching your face contort in your mirror “huh baby?” He added as you remained quiet “don’t stop Z,” you begged bringing your hips to meet his fingers as he added his thumb focused his attention on your clit.

As you forced your ass against his cock he couldn’t help but grunt “I’m gonna come.” You announced forcing the movement of your hips to go quicker than before “not so fast baby.” Trevor clicked his tongue retracting his fingers from your panties “you thought it was going to be so easy to come when get dressed like this for someone else?” He laughed at the words as you spun around to finally face him.

Trevor looked down at you as he licked his lips like he had seen this as some kind of challenge “real fucking hypocritical of you.” You grumbled placing your hands on his chest as you pushed him back into your bed hit the back of his knees causing him to fall back bringing you with him “you think you. Can. Go. And. Fuck. Someone. Else. And. I. Can’t?” You kissed his lips between each word as your hands reached down to fiddle with the drawstring of the shorts.

The hockey player groaned watching your tongue dart out of your mouth as you focused on moving his cock out of his boxers “never fucked her.” Trevor confessed as your hand teased his cock rubbing up the skin “just you baby.” The boy felt his body shudder as you used his hardened head to tease your clit “I’m still on the pill.” You announced letting your cunt swallow his cock as you sank down on it.

Condoms were something you two had let leave your relationship months ago after you both realised that there was nothing hotter than you coming around his bare cock “shit baby.” Trevor grunted as he began to guide your hips letting you move.

It was hot as your hands went to his shoulder “you always feel so good.” The hockey player confessed as his forehead leaned against yours.

You didn’t want to admit it but you missed these intimate moments with anyone in general as you hadn’t slept with anyone since Trevor took a step back from his relationship with you “missed having me like this?” You smirked as you turned back to look at him.

The boy moaned as you clenched around his cock “thought about you all the time.” The hockey player mumbled as his fingers dug into your sides guiding your hips against his “what would Jack think about you saying that?” Your mention of your brother causing his one hand to brush at your clit “what would he think about you on top of me.” Trevor spat as he let his other hand reach out to slap your hand.

It was now clear that him letting you take control was now over as he had enough of your fun “pull that top off so I can see those pretty tits of yours.” He ordered making your cunt clench around his cock “shit Z,” you cried as you pulled the straps of your dress down bringing your bra with it “you’re so hot.” You added as he brought his lips down to your nipples letting his tongue swirl over the sensitive peaks.

Your fingers locked into his hair “don’t stop T,” your body began to shake “not so strong now are we?” Trevor smirked as you shook your head letting your hands cup his cheeks as you kissed him.

The sight of you two was almost amusing as you were both still fully clothed with your panties pulled to the side as you rode his cock “think you knew I was going to come back to you.” The hockey player confessed as his thumb that was once on your clit moved up to your stomach “feel me right here?” He added making you gasp as he pressed his hand against your skin forcing you to stare back at his eyes as their hardened gaze brought you closer to your high “so big.” You murmured letting your eyes screw shut.

You were still sensitive from the orgasm he never let you have “gonna come.” You cried out as you began letting your hips bounce as Trevor helped move them.

The sight of your breasts bouncing in his face made the boy groan as he let his head rest between them “so fucking beautiful,” Trevor mumbled as he looked up to watch you come.

You were scratching your fingers over his shirt as your body almost collapsed against him “you’re so good baby.” He cooed as his come shot into your cunt that practically soaked it in as your release mixed with his.

Trevor spun you over so that he was now on top of you as his cock slid out of your pussy “can’t have you wasting a drop of this.” The boy grumbled shaking his head as he used two fingers to bring his come back into your pussy.

Your body jumped as his fingers pushed back into you “what are you doing?” You asked blinking at him as he hovered over you “making up for lost time.” The hockey player explained letting his cock tease your clit again.

For now you were going to enjoy this, because it two weeks you were back at the lake house.

Where everything as you knew it would change, forever.

#zegras x pregnant hughes AU!#Trevor zegras smut #Trevor zegras imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut #nhl fic #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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justsomerandomfanfic · 24 days

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In The Summer Heat - Billy Hargrove X Female Reader

Title: In The Summer Heat

Billy Hargrove X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother (Mentioned), Billy's mother (Mentioned), and high schoolers (Mentioned)

Requested by: @fandom-princess-forevermore

WC: 2,856

Warnings: Set during either Season 2 or 3, mentions of true crime, mentions of missing people, mild cursing, brief fear, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, slight suggestiveness, injuries (cuts/bruises), blood briefly mentioned, brief mentions of heat stoke, slight/mini? angst, and fluff

The breeze that was gently blowing through your window was hardly doing anything to cool down your skin as it passed by. The summers in Hawkins, Indiana were hot and humid. Your mother had always said she wanted to move somewhere warmer. But the only place she could afford was Indiana, where it was already eighty degrees with high humidity. You hated the heat, and trying to distract yourself by reading one of your favorite books was doing close to nothing for you.

And you were trying everything you could do to avoid the terrible heat getting to you; lighter clothes, window open, even a standing fan in the corner of your room, but nothing seemed to work. There was no escaping it. As much as you wished there was, you couldn't get away from the heat. It was impossible. You took another swig of the cold drink your mother brought up to you before she headed to bed, your hand wet from the condensation on the side of the glass.

Pressing your wet hand on your forehead, you let the cold condensation cool you down somewhat, shutting your eyes briefly before you opened them back up again and wiped your hand on your shirt. Drying your hand, you grabbed your book again, flipping to the page that you were on, and re-reading the page that you had stopped on.

Finally falling back into the rhythm of reading - or trying to, at least - you almost completely forgot about the heat until you heard a noise outside of your window. Snapping your eyes from your book, you stared over at your open window; your soft curtains only lightly fluttered in the practically nonexistent breeze. It was dark out. You could only see the tops of the street lamps from across the street as they lit up the neighborhood. Your mind began to race and your heart began to pound; a shiver ran down your spine.

The many nights listening about true crime on the TV, and hearing about the missing people from the town on the radio, was making your mind race. Could you be next? Unlikely, but still…

A hand reached out from the darkness of the night outside your window, raising up and clutching onto the windowsill; your heart stopped. Your breathing stuttered, and your eyes widened in fear. You were frozen, stuck between fight and flight. As a head pops up, you let out a breath of relief. Your hand snapped up to press against your chest, your heart still racing under your palm.

Billy pushed himself up and over your windowsill, an eyebrow raised as he looked at your - then shocked - and then suddenly relieved expression. Once his feet hit your carpet, you huffed, shutting your book and setting it beside you; your full attention on the young, Californian man you delightfully called your boyfriend. Billy only tilted his head, a small grin growing on his lips. "Scared ya?" He taunted playfully, making you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up a bit more on your bed to fully press your back against your headrest.

"Scared me? Nah, just startled me a little bit." You shrugged your shoulders, watching as Billy kicked off his shoes and made his way over to you; also dressed for the hot weather - somewhat. How the hell was he surviving in those Jeans?

"I think being startled is the same as being scared, babe." His voice was low as he walked further into your room, with a slight hint of amusement behind his tone. And then you finally noticed it. The small cut on his temple.

Your eyes widened as you frantically shuffled your legs, slipping off the bed less than gracefully, but you didn't care, your Billy was hurt. You stood in front of him, taking his face in your hands as you gently turned his head to the side to get a better look at the small scrape on his temple; it was no longer than an inch or so long. It was lightly caked with dried blood, not too much, but it still made your chest tighten at the sight of it. "Billy, what happened? Are you alright?" You asked anxiously, moving your eyes from the cut to his ocean blue eyes.

Billy just gave you his signature grin, though it didn't travel to his eyes; his hands coming up to take hold of your wrists. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." You pursed your lips, your eyes searching his for a moment, before you brought your attention back to the small wound. You knew something was up, but you didn't want to force him to tell you anything if he didn't want to. He would come to you and tell you when the time was right. So you didn't push, you didn't say a word, only nodding and making your way to your bathroom. You rummaged through your mirror cabinet, finding your small first-aid kit, before returning to your bedroom; and finding Billy already sitting on your bed. Billy wasn't expecting this... Well, he was - you’ve tried to clean up a lot of his injuries before, and you were always so- Well, he didn't really know what to think anymore. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do that-'' Billy started as you walked over to him, but you shook your head.

"If not for you, do this for me," You replied, interrupting him, "Please, Billy." You pleaded, only for him to purse his lips, staring down at your carpeted floor.

"Fine..." He muttered reluctantly, and you nodded, opening the box and gathering your supplies. As he waited, Billy looked around your room. Billy liked your room. It was neat, organized, and comfortable - very unlike the mess that was his room. You had a few posters on your walls, shelves covered in books, and a small boombox on your desk; overall your room really reminded him of you. Calming, and bright.

Looking back at you, Billy could see that you were concentrating very hard on the task at hand, the tip of your tongue peeking out from your lips. Taking out an alcohol wipe, you twisted your body to faced him, "This is going to sting a bit, okay?" Billy said nothing as you then cupped his cheek with one hand, turning his head ever-so-slightly, before dabbing the cut on his temple with the wipe. He shut his eyes, the stinging making him tense his shoulders as you applied gentle pressure to the wound; cleaning the dried blood. "I'm sorry..." You whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Do you have any other injuries?"

Billy opened his eyes, a slight frown forming on his face as you finished - the bandaid you had chosen for the side of his temple was fruit-themed. "No," He murmured, "Just my face." He said softly.

You didn't respond for a moment, staring at him, and Billy was worried that you could see right through him. You had such an ability, seeing right through him when no one else could. "Shirt off." You pursed your lips again, and Billy could only let out a chuckle, narrowing his eyes at you devilishly.

"Buy me dinner first, sweetheart."

"Billy." You lightly scolded with a serious expression on your face. "Come on, please?"

With a huff, he stared at you, his smile dropping back into a - rather indifferent - frown. He continued to stare, hoping that you would drop it but you didn't budge. Letting out a deep sigh through his nose, he began to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Mentally, he felt relieved, it was too hot in your room.

You felt your cheeks warm as your eyes drifted to his exposed upper half - even though you had seen him topless many times before, the butterflies still fluttered in your chest, despite the current situation - he then tossed his shirt to the corner of your bed. Your gaze then dropped, noticing the bruises that littered his side, crawling around to his lower back; they were purple and dark red. Your breath hitched, feeling your eyes burn as you reached out, but your hand shook before stopping short; overwhelming concern settling inside your stomach.

"I'm fine," He spoke nonchalantly - though, seemingly frustrated with either himself or something - as if what you saw wasn't all that important, "They look worse than they are."

You chose not to say anything - fearing that if you did, that you would cry - grabbing the bruise paste from the first-aid case. You squeezed some of it onto your fingers, before gently rubbing it across his side, making sure to cover the bruises as much as you could. And for Billy, he was just watching you, noticing your lips were pulled into a thin line, and your brows were furrowed together, clearly concerned about him, as he sat silently on your bed. Billy felt his body become warm, and he doubted that it was from the unbearable summer heat. His heart pounded against his chest, threatening to break through his ribcage, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by everything - by how much you actually cared about him. For the most part, he was used to people not caring for him. But you cared. Even now, here with him, you were helping him, worrying about him. He'd never been treated this well since... California... When his mom was still around.

Billy knew there was just something about you the moment he met you. Something about your eyes, that sparkle when you were happy, your hair that was always so soft, and your laugh - Billy couldn’t get it out of his head; it was difficult to explain, even to himself.

He was the new King of Hawkins High. Every girl he walked by swooned and giggled if he looked their way. Their attention made him feel powerful. He was known for being a womanizer and delinquent, the one that women seemed to flock to, who always got into fights, and picked on others. Yet, here he was, with you.

You had just been another girl he wanted to use until he got bored of you; like he did with most - if not all - of the girls in Hawkins High already. He tried in the beginning to woo and persuade you into going on at least one date with him. But you declined each and every time. You just smiled up at him, politely rejecting every single one of his invitations. It never seemed to irritate you when he would come back and ask you again and again.

At some point, Billy stopped asking you, and you thought that that would mean that he would then just leave you alone. But, he didn't. Instead of asking you out, he'd just sort of flirt, and ask how your day was going whilst leaning against the locker beside yours. He didn't realize how often you'd cross his mind, but sometimes he would find himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing, wondering when he'd see you at school again. There was an urge inside of him that he didn't understand, that he couldn't resist. It made him feel weak, pathetic, vulnerable, and completely in love with you. He wanted to hate it. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't.

The relationship between the both of you was odd at first, but grew quite beautiful. Billy found himself enjoying your conversations... He'd rather sit and listen to you rant and ramble about anything and everything than spend five minutes with anyone else. Your presence alone was calming, giving him a feeling of peace. There was this unspoken understanding between the two of you, something that neither of you had ever felt with anyone else before.

He wasn't used to the feelings that he had for you. These feelings grew whenever he saw you or even thought of you. This intense sense of desire to protect, hold, and cherish you. It scared the hell out of him. It scared him because he didn't know how to handle it.

"Alright," You muttered, wiping your hands off with a tissue before crumpling it and tossing it in your small plastic trash can in the corner of your room. "Those should heal in no time." You finished, making Billy grin.

“Great-”

You snapped your eyes up at him, giving him a short look, “With time and rest.” You emphasized before collecting the first-aid supplies and packing them back away in the first-aid kit. When you turned your attention back to him, noticing the far-off look in his eyes as he looked down at you. That look in his eyes made your mouth suddenly feel dry. It was a look that you rarely saw on Billy Hargrove’s face - only when he was really deep in his thoughts. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes holding an emotion that you couldn’t quite make sense of. It made your already warm face feel like it was burning from the intensity. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow, "What are you thinking about?" You asked softly, slowly watching as Billy's eyes rapidly blinked, gathering his thoughts, his lips twisted into a grin.

"I'm just thinking about kissing you," He didn't hesitate to answer, making you scoff out a small laugh, shaking your head at how adorably ridiculous he was being.

"Well, I'm thinking you just might get a kiss," You played along, mimicking his grin, leaning towards him slightly, "But, you have to promise that you will rest for a couple of days."

Billy chuckled, looking up at your ceiling before looking back down at you, "Whatever you say, doc," He answered, amused, before leaning in, but you stopped him, pressing your pointer finger on his awaiting lips.

You gave him a look, "Promise, B," You raised your other hand, lifting your pinky finger out for him.

Billy narrowed his eyes at you, impatient, but willing to play along. He brought his hand up to yours, but the second you wrapped your pinky around his, Billy leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours; knocking you onto your back, and landing back onto your plush mattress.

You gasped, giggling against his lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he moved over you; his forearms pressed down on the mattress beside your head, your own arms looping around his neck. The kiss was languid, his mouth moving against yours as your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. He sighed against your lips, feeling the warmth seep through his chest once more. He didn't even realize how much he had missed you. Even though it had been less than two days since he last saw you. He missed your voice, your face, your taste; everything. He didn't want to stop kissing you, but at some point, he was going to have to come back up for air.

Slipping his lips from yours, Billy breathily sighed, digging his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, before laying down completely on you. "I missed you," He mumbled into your skin, smiling when you laughed lightly under him.

"I've missed you too," You replied softly, running your fingers through his curly blonde hair, "But, you got to get off of me, honey. It's way too hot for you to koala me right now."

"Don't wanna," He muttered stubbornly, pressing kisses where his lips were placed on your shoulder. "Can't make me."

You huffed, unable to stop your smile from growing, your hands wrapped around his upper back; your nails lightly scratching against his warm, bare skin. "Fine..." You breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, "... But you owe me big time, Hargrove."

"Hmm... Sounds good to me," He hummed mischievously - you could feel him smirking, "I'm staying the night."

"Really? That's a surprise," You remarked teasingly, "I wouldn't have guessed that."

Billy gently bit your shoulder in retaliation, causing you to let out a little shriek, muffling your own laughter as you slapped your hand over your mouth; not wanting to wake your sleeping mother three doors over. "I'm trapping you here now forever," He grumbled, though it was hardly a threat.

"Oh, poor me," You answered sarcastically, "Trapped under my ridiculously handsome boyfriend. Heat stroke. What a terrible way to go." You sighed out, closing your eyes; a smile on your face, "Tragic, really." You almost forgot about how uncomfortably hot you were, “Honestly, not the worst way to die…” You muttered, your eyelids fluttering as your fingers started to move absentmindedly against his back and shoulders, rubbing circles, and tracing shapes. Billy sighed contently, his muscles relaxing beneath your fingertips. Your smile softened as you felt his eyelashes flutter against your skin, "Rest, Billy," You told him quietly, "I'll be here when you wake up."

"You better be," He whispered, letting out a deep sigh before he closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

Glancing over at your book beside your head, you let out a small yawn, before turning your head to rest your cheek on Billy’s forehead, shutting your own eyes. You'd have time to read it later.

---

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

174 notes · View notes

tatumrileyslover · 10 months

Note

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #you Jenna Ortega hoes gonna love this #for the Jenna gals

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sweaty-confetti · 9 months

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i got super ill about the homestuck kids’ accents and wrote a whole thing

john: your stereotypical american accent that one thinks of, californian but diluted basically. says you guys a lot. pronounces wash kind of like warsh. also sometimes uses weirdly formal language, like television instead of TV, refrigerator instead of fridge, even automobile instead of car - dad’s fault. trained himself out of it cause he thought it was embarrassing, but slips up sometimes.

rose: somewhat of a transatlantic accent, including the speech patterns. picked it up from old tv shows and movies because she didn’t want to sound like roxy-mom (who has a thick mixture of a new york/boston/rhode island accent). but growing up with roxy-mom, she has a bit of that accent too - so it’s this weird mixture of 30% stereotypical American, 50% transatlantic, 20% boston accent.

dave: texan accent, courtesy of dirk!bro, who spoke in the most stereotypical drawling texan accent ever. as he got older he started to think it wasn’t cool, so he started masking it, but it’s still there. gets stronger when he expresses emotion or when he forgets to mask it. gratuitous use of the word y’all. doesn’t say it over text but it’s a habit in real life. drops g’s at the end of words, like singin’, fuckin’, etc.

jade: obviously had no outside contact with other people other than with grandpa, so she has a slight british accent - kept up with learning to talk by watching youtube videos, so the accent isn’t very strong. also, even before going god tier, had weird canine vocalizations picked up from bec, like growling, whining, even sometimes howling, etc.

jane: very similar to john’s, but sounds…older? not transatlantic, but similar to late 19th century-early 20th century accents, with song-like intonation and faint r’s. heavy emphasized consonants and slight vowel merging with e and i, such that pen and pin sound virtually the same. all in all, what you’d imagine a canadian from the 1800s talks like.

roxy: the goddamn heaviest stereotypical new york accent ever. a weird super heavy mix of queens and staten island accent she learned entirely for shits and giggles, and also to annoy rose-mom. not very nasally though, unless she’s trying to annoy someone on purpose. a lot of the word like thrown in. doesn’t say it over text, but it’s a habit irl.

dirk: the flattest most unplaceable standard american accent ever, apart from a hint of a texan accent. learned to talk from the internet and robots, but when he was very young used to repeatedly watch videos that dave!bro left for him and programmed around the house. dave!bro had a heavy texan accent, which is where he picked that up from. drops g’s at the end of words, like singin’, fuckin’, etc.

jake: really heavy, stereotypically posh british accent that sounds like what an american thinks a british person sounds like. but he’s 100% genuine about it and there’s no real explanation for why he does it, other than the fact that when he was very young he used to repeatedly watch grandma’s favorite movies - old british movies. now it’s just a habit and he can’t be trained out of it.

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rustedhearts · 5 months

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last christmas (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the return to your hometown for the holidays comes with the many ghosts of christmas pasts—including your ex-fiance, steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ christmas carols ✶ the library

tags: angst; hurt/comfort; reader’s parents are given names (celia/john) but no physical descriptions; reader is also given a name (lucy) because I refuse to write "y/n" but it's the same thing, still no physical descriptors; reader is a smoker because it's the 90s;

"a crowded room, friends with tired eyes, i'm hiding from you and your soul of ice. my god, i thought you were someone to rely on. me? i guess i was a shoulder to cry on,"

— last christmas, wham!

hawkins, indiana, december, 1999.

You couldn't deny—the nip of cold Indiana air was a welcome feeling after all those Californian winters. To bundle in layers of warmth and heavy fabrics, to shiver in the back of your father's sedan while he sang backup for your mother's Christmas carols: it really felt like home again.

It snowed the few days prior to your arrival, and every inch of Hawkins seemed sprinkled or covered with perfect white fluff. It'd been so long since you'd seen snow.

"I've got all your favorites stocked at the house," your mother announced from the passenger seat. "Strawberry Jell-O, Scooby Snacks—"

"Mom," you laughed. "I'm not a child anymore, you didn't have to buy all that."

She twisted around in her seat to face you. "When you're back in my house, you are a child! Let me have my fun, you haven't been home in ages."

Three years was hardly ages—but, you supposed, it was long enough. The first Christmas after you moved was too difficult to stomach back in Hawkins. The second, you were too busy with work to take even the weekend for a quick plane ride here and back. And the third, well...you still just couldn't do it. You couldn't handle seeing him again.

But this year, you decided it was enough. You had to pull your big girl pants on and buck up. It wasn't fair that your friends and family kept getting caught in the crossfire.

The car jostled through the icy driveway of your childhood home. Your father parked the car and hurried to the trunk to grab your luggage, while you slid slowly out of the backseat. Like reflex, you immediately directed your attention to the inflatable snowman bobbing on the lawn next door. The lights strung from the awnings and wrapped around the pines. The last name painted on the mailbox.

The Harringtons.

"Come on, I'll make us some tea," your mother ushered, looping her arm through yours.

Your father was close behind, crunching through the salted, icy snow mounds. You kept a close watch on the driveway next door as you approached the open garage and entered the warmth.

Luckily, there was no sign of that maroon BMW anywhere.

"So, I thought we'd go shopping at Macy's tomorrow afternoon, and then have dinner with your grandparents on Wednesday, but—"

"Celia, let her settle in first," your father interrupted, sawing into his chicken.

Your mother pursed her lips at him, but her eyes remained on you. "Oh, psh. What does she need to settle in for, she's lived here all her life! What do you think, honey, Macy's? We can grab breakfast beforehand."

You smiled at your father who passed an apologetic and knowing stare, and nodded at your mother. "Sure, Mom, that sounds fun."

After dinner, your father positioned himself at the sink, scrubbing every dish with care. He handed them to you to dry, and as he did, he watched you peek through the kitchen window toward the other side of the house.

“You think you’re gonna see him?”

You swept the dish towel over a clean dinner plate. "Who?"

Your father quirked a brow down at the soapy wine glasses. "Steve."

You barely saved your mother's delicate dinnerware. It clattered against the countertop through your fumbling hands, and once steadied, you turned to shake your head at your father, who slowed the faucet down to a trickling stream.

"N-No. No, I can't."

He held out a handful of forks. "Don't you think it's been long enough?"

"Dad..."

"All I'm saying, is...maybe you owe it to him. To yourself even. It's time to close that book for good, and you can't do that if you never speak to him again."

You plucked the towel over the fork prongs and tried to block out your father's even-toned words. He was right—he was always right. It irritated you how your parents never stopped knowing what was best. How they could always read you like a book without even trying.

But you desperately wished he wasn't right. And no matter how selfish it sounded...you just couldn't face Steve.

"I'll think about it," you managed to get out.

Your father hummed, turning the tap off. "Might be good for you, kid. Just trying to help."

You placed the forks back in their drawer. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed a quick and gentle kiss to your father's cheek and smiled.

"I know. Thanks, Dad."

When the dishes had been dried and put away, and your mother was already asleep with her glasses on the edge of her nose and her magazine dangling off the couch, you tip-toed up the stairs toward your bedroom. You still knew just which steps to avoid, just which carpeted areas squeaked and groaned.

But the flash of deep red in your periphery had you halting on a croaking step. You peered through the window on your left, holding the lace drapes away to get a better view. The BMW you spent high school riding to school and football games in came to a stop behind a minivan. The driver side opened and slammed closed.

Steve Harrington in the flesh.

Bundled in a heavy, brown wool coat and carefully knotted red scarf. His hair flounced in the wind and collected snowflakes with grace. He carried a pie dish and a smile on his face. Heart in your throat, you watched him stomp through snow piles toward the other side of the car.

He opened the passenger door and greeted a redheaded woman with a kiss.

She took the pie from him, cradling it close to her expensively-adorned chest. They had matching coats. She swooped a leather-gloved hand through the front of his hair to fix a tousled wave. His lips moved in words of gratitude, and you could almost hear the octave of his voice in your head again. How he cooed when he talked to you. You could tell by the softness of his eyes, the relaxed muscles of his smile—he was doing the same to her right now.

Steve wound an arm around her waist and turned them around. He flicked his head to toss away his hair, and for a moment, you swore he looked toward your window.

You hurriedly mounted the steps and slipped into your bedroom before you could find out if that were true.

"God, Mom, my arm's about to fall off."

You waddled alongside your mother down Main Street, carrying (literally) armfuls of shopping bags. She came rushing into your room at promptly seven o'clock this morning to rouse you, throwing your drapes open and ripping off your covers. She took you to get bagels and coffee, and then scrambled into shopping mode. Macy's lasted two full hours, and you immediately felt like a teenager whining for McDonald's again when one o'clock came around and you were famished.

"Oh, quit whining," your mother huffed, adjusting her own bags on her arm. "We'll stop for lunch after this."

So, you pushed your way through another store, hitting just about everyone in your vicinity with a gift-wrapped shopping bag. You were sweating through your layers, cheeks flushed hot, and your stomach was so hollow with hunger that it felt like it would cave in. The first day back home for the holidays was truly off to a great start.

"Sorry, sorry—oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"So, just when the hell did you get back in town?"

Raising your eyes from the crowd of shoppers you irritated and the bags you dropped, you settled on a familiar head of shaggy raven hair and round, brown eyes.

"Eddie!"

He accepted your tackled hug with a chuckle, closing his arms carefully around your crinkling bags. The embrace lasted a beat too long before you pulled away and grinned.

"I didn't know you were comin' home this year," he said, bending to collect your abandoned bags. You strung the corded handles back over your padded arm.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Sorry, I...wasn't sure if I should..."

Eddie tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as heavy and studded as ever. It creaked when he shrugged. "No biggie. It's awkward, I get it. Amanda would be stoked to see you, though."

"Oh, how is she? How are you—and everyone?"

The pair of you squished against a shelf of holiday candles as a bustle of angry mothers pushed through. You lost your mother somewhere in the crowd.

"She's good, everyone's...good. I mean, three years, kid...it's been a while. Don't even know where we left off."

A sheepish grin concealed a pair of warm cheeks. The tops of your ears burned under your earmuffs. God, it was embarrassing owning up to your bullshit, wasn't it? There certainly wasn't a manual for apologizing to your friends for getting lost in the crossfire of a called-off marriage.

"Yeah, I know. I just...didn't know what to say to anyone."

Eddie nodded, though his eyes avoided yours. His jacket clinked with his shifting. A ringed finger spun a candle on the shelf.

“Yeah, I get that. Well…hey, we’re all gonna be down at Deb’s on Christmas Eve for drinks. Like we used to, remember? You should come.”

A twinge of sorrow tugged in your chest. You watched Eddie teeter on the edge of hope and disappointment. He knew you’d say no. He knew you’d forget them. But how many hours over a short lifetime had you spent together as friends? How many times had Eddie picked you up when your car broke down? How many times had he come crying to you when he first met Amanda and he wasn’t sure how she felt?

How many times had you broken your friend’s heart?

Swallowing, you adjusted your bags again. “Is…is he gonna be there?”

Eddie scoffed. “Steve? Nah, he’s got…stuff.”

His eyes darted to you with wide worry, and you knew exactly just what ‘stuff’ he was referring to. The red-headed beauty with the fancy cashmere winter wear, and more grace and elegance than you ever had in your entire life. The woman who meant Steve finally moved on from you.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled. Your cheeks felt lined with sickly sweetness, stomach churning with illness. “Well…if you’re sure he won’t be there, then…maybe I’ll stop by.”

Eddie pulled off the shelf of candles and grinned.

“Yeah? Oh, man, Amanda’ll be stoked. And Robin’ll be there! She’s seein’ this girl from Indianapolis who literally drives two hours every day just to see her.” Eddie rolled his eyes, though a fond smile touched his mouth. “They’re cute, though…when they’re not mouthin’ at each other in public—nah, nah, it’ll be fine. Seriously, everyone’ll be so excited.”

You giggled, enthralled by his babbling. It was funny how much changed in three years, but how some things would always stay the same.

“I’m excited, too.” And you really were.

Sure, you made friends in L.A over the years, but none—not even your closest friend and roommate Bridget—could measure up to the ones you’d had since childhood.

The kids you grew up on the block with—the ones you suffered though puberty and high school with—could never be replaced. Being around them filled you with a certain bittersweet ache you’d never feel anywhere else.

“Alright, it’s at seven like always,” he said, tapping your arm. “See you there. And good luck with these crowds.”

You laughed at his shudder and waved your goodbye. “See you.”

As he pushed his way out, you spotted the top of your mom's head hurrying your way. She grabbed your coat sleeve and huffed when she found you.

"There you are—who was that?"

"Eddie—"

"Oh, the Munson boy! Eddie! Eddie!” She began to hop up and wave to accompany her shrill exclamation. You cringed and covered half your face to silence the stares.

“Oh, shit,” she sighed, clicking her tongue. “He’s gone. That boy was always so sweet. How’s he doing?”

You trudged after your mother as she filed through the masses, willing away the hot flash of her humiliation. “He’s good. Invited me out on Christmas Eve. Apparently they all still get together.”

Your mother fingered at a candle, assessing the vessel and smell. She hummed, glancing at you. Her basket was already half full.

“Oh…that’s nice.”

Are you going to go? lingered in her reply. You chewed on the edge of your lip and shifted your weight.

“I was thinking maybe…I’d go.”

“Oh good!“ Relief visibly flooded her. “It’s about time you spoke to him again, you know. Your father and I were just saying that the Harringtons—“

“What? Mom, no,” you huffed, jaw tightening. “Steve’s not gonna be there, I made sure of it. And you’re talking to the Harringtons? Come on, why are you always meddling?”

Your mother placed the candle back on the shelf with a heavy clunk. A mother and her young son rushed by and nudged your bags. The air in there was getting stiffer by the minute.

“They are our neighbors, Lucy, and were before you or Steve even came into the world. This hasn’t been very fair on us, you know. Did you ever think about that?”

If you thought you couldn’t breathe before, it was no match for the shallowness of your lungs now. You practically felt your color drain, the heat to your body drop to your feet.

“Well…Mom, I never said you had to stop being their friends,” you muttered, following her to another display table.

“I knew having them around would be too difficult. But I also thought that, by now, the pair of you would’ve…I don’t know…”

You plucked the lid off a candle and sniffed it absently. “Gotten back together?”

Your mother glanced at you in her periphery, pursed with hesitance. She sighed, head shaking.

“Maybe. We all thought…I mean everyone figured you were meant to be.”

You couldn’t remember the last time your chest felt this heavy. The last time your heart hurt so terribly.

Well…you could think of one.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I know.”

Your mother watched you a moment, twisting candle lids and plucking display glitter. She let you go on a moment longer before adjusting her shopping basket and flicking her hair out of her face.

“Alright, let’s get in line. If we’re lucky, we’ll get home by New Year’s.”

the harringtons’: christmas eve, 1994

“One more, one more!”

“No—Steve! Come on, I look terrible.”

“You look glorious, honey. C’mon, blow us a kiss.”

You threw a hand out at the camera lens, but it scarcely concealed your glowing grin. The pixelated picture of your own body blurred with Steve’s unsteady hand as he fell into laughter. He could barely keep his eye on the shutter to make sure you were in view.

“Kiss this,” you announced, and the camera panned to your denim-clad backside jutting out at him.

Steve snorted, and the whir and click of the zoom creeping in came from behind the camera. You tipped your hips from side to side to flaunt your ass, and Steve’s hand suddenly appeared to pop it. You jolted upright, whirling around to gape at him.

“Steve, we’re in your mother’s kitchen.”

“You just had your ass out!”

“I was joking—ooh, I’m telling.”

“Get that ass back here.”

Steve barely managed to place the camcorder on the kitchen counter before he tackled you. The lens caught a sliver of tangling bodies—just limbs flailing and the crackled sound of laughter. You had the hiccups. Steve was out of breath. Your sleeves were the same color—matching Christmas sweaters from Grandma Harrington, who always loved you.

When he carried you into view—arms locked tight around your middle, your legs scrunched up to your chest—the pair of you were all teeth. Just smiles and nothing else.

You were so happy.

“Hey, you two! Are we havin’ pie or what?” was a muffled call from somewhere in the house.

Steve placed you on your feet and swept two heavy palms over your tousled hair. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Even through the grain and static of the old picture, you could see the fondness in his face. How he gazed down on you like finding sunlight for the first time.

“Yeah,” he called back, and bopped you on the nose all the same. “Be right there!”

You gnashed your teeth at him playfully, and he threw a big hand over your mouth. From the way he recoiled in amused surprise a second later, you knew you had licked him.

Pie, little did you know, was code for ring. His family had been in the living room preparing for his proposal while he distracted you with affection and baking.

And when he clicked off the camcorder and snapped the screen shut, you knew he was taking you into the other room. He’d propose in front of the tree with your entire families as witnesses. He’d give you his grandmother’s engagement ring from the 50s, polished and sized just for you. She’d give you a wink from the armchair where she was sipping tea.

His mother had wedding magazines tucked away since your first date in high school. Your father told Steve when he was fourteen years old that he “better take good care of his girl.”

You were meant to be together.

What went wrong?

“You’re positive he won’t be there?”

You fumbled with the flimsy nylon toes of your black tights, cellphone wedged between your cheek and shoulder. On the other line, Bridget munched on an egg roll noisily. You could practically picture her Chinese takeout spilled over her coffee table, the terrible movie paused on the television. It was what the pair of you would normally be doing on Christmas Eve at your shared apartment.

“That’s what Eddie said.”

“And do we trust Eddie?”

You screwed up your nose, fixing the other seam over your toes. When they were where they should be, you pressed to your feet and rushed the closet door.

“Well, yeah. He wouldn’t lie about something like that, ‘specially not since we haven’t seen each other in so long. Plus…Eddie’s not a liar.”

You pulled a black skirt from its hanger and unzipped the back. You couldn’t fit into all your old clothes left over, but a few staple pieces were squeezable. This particular black skirt was from early college days, when you and Steve were rotating parties like clockwork.

You paused as you placed it on the bed. It likely hadn’t been worn since it’s last spin on a dance floor with Steve. Or was it that date in Indianapolis, the one where he surprised you with a show at the theater?

“Hello?…Helloooo?”

Blinking out of your stupor, you looked away from the skirt and toward your mirror, picking the phone up from your shoulder. “What?”

“I said ‘people can change,’” Bridget said. “How well do you really know this Eddie nowadays?”

Fingers curling tightly around the blue plastic of your Nokia, you clenched your jaw and exhaled sharply. “I know him, Bridget. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

You wedged the phone back against your shoulder and scooped the skirt up. You wiggled it on and reached behind you to zip it. Your father was watching Die Hard on VHS in the living room at an obscene volume level. Your mother was in the kitchen rolling cookies in cinnamon and powdered sugar with her stereo on.

And here you were, primping and prepping for a night out with your old CD case splayed on your bed. It was really beginning to feel like old times, and you weren’t sure how well it settled with you.

“Well…alright. You wearin’ somethin’ hot just in case?”

You smoothed your hands over your hips in the mirror and exhaled.

“Obviously.”

You borrowed your dad’s sedan for the short trip down to Deb’s. He handed you the keys with a pointed look and a demanded promise to call if you were too drunk to drive. Your mother didn’t let you leave without a Tupperware container of freshly-baked Christmas cookies for your friends.

She looked over your outfit with curious eyes. You scurried out into the cold before she could question just why you were in your tightest black clothes for a night at the dive. The cookies sat in the passenger seat until you rolled into the parking lot, and you did your best to conceal them under your coat as you wandered inside. Nothing more pathetic than a woman bringing her own food to the bar.

The bar looked mostly the same, with little tweaks and updates that would go unnoticed by those who didn’t spend most of their youth here. But they still strung the same rainbow lights from the high beams and frosted window front. They still played a mix of tinsely Christmas tunes and whatever was most popular on the radio. Still had stale peanuts in little wooden bowls and glass ashtrays on every table.

Still kept your booth near the window where your friends used the ledge as a table.

"Hey, guys..."

"Oh my god!"

Amanda was the first to leap up and hug you, jostling the table as she sprang to her feet. Robin next, her hug much softer and tame. Though already reacquainted, you accepted Eddie's hug gratefully.

"Come sit by me, kid," he drawled, shifting down to make room.

You slid into the booth and pulled the Tupperware from your coat. "I didn't come empty handed. Courtesy of my mother, of course."

"Oh, nice," Eddie exclaimed, reaching in for a sprinkled wreath. "Mama Celia makes the best Christmas cookies."

"Bleh, don't call her that." Robin scrunched up her nose. "Oh, I'm sorry, this is my girlfriend Pam. Pam, this is our friend Lucy."

You smiled at the girl sitting beside Robin and extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Lucy's visiting us from L.A," Robin continued, bringing her rum and Coke up for a sip. "For the first time in three years."

You shot her a glare, and Pam shifted a glance around the table. "Oh...that's nice."

"It's complicated," you justified.

"Not really," Robin huffed. "She was engaged to Steve for two years, kept putting off the wedding—come to find out, she leaves him at Christmas without a word to anyone. Steve's brokenhearted, Lucy's living her dream in L.A, the rest is history."

A heavy silence fell over the table. Robin slurped at her drink through a thin plastic straw. You lowered your eyes to your lap and swallowed. The radio behind the bar changed to the tooting tune of "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree."

"Alright," Eddie interrupted, a big ringed hand coming between the table. "Can we just agree to have a good time tonight? Whatever happened...it's in the past. Can't do nothin' about it now. It's Christmas."

Flicking your eyes Robin's way, you searched for her agreement before giving yours. Pam rubbed her hand over Robin's back against the booth. Amanda kissed Eddie's cheek and squeezed his leather arm. It struck you in that moment that you were at a table full of couples.

"I'm gonna get a drink."

They served spiked eggnog in copper mugs, and you nursed one greedily to wash down the regret plaguing your every thought. You regretted what you'd done, you regretted coming out tonight, you regretted not thinking this through. Maybe you even regretted coming home for Christmas altogether.

"Is Steve really not coming?" Amanda broke the ice and uttered his name sometime around eight o'clock.

The table was littered with cookie crumbs, crumpled napkins, and empty drink glasses. Someone ordered a basket of fries and they'd been picked at savagely.

Eddie glanced at his girlfriend, and then at you. You shrugged, waving it off.

"It's fine. You can say his name."

"Uh, no." Eddie cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket that creaked with the weight. "He's...meeting Jessica's parents tonight."

Jessica. Of course. The redhead with the cashmere coat and Ann Taylor sweater. You wanted to bite off the corner of the fucking table. Everyone seemed to be waiting for your response.

And maybe it was the alcohol breathing fire into your veins, or your complete inability to stay calm and collected when you wanted to lose your shit—but you decided to bite.

"Jessica...how'd they meet?"

Amanda and Eddie winced. Eddie was the bravest of the bunch, and distracted himself with breaking a bell-shaped cookie in half as he replied.

"She's a paralegal at his dad's firm. They met last summer...it only just became serious."

Ann Taylor, cashmere, and brains. She was your worst fucking nightmare.

Swallowing tightly, you smeared a stiff smile over your mouth. "Oh. Well...that's great!"

You could only sit in the silence for a moment before you slid out of the booth and snatched at your purse on the end hook.

"I'm gonna run out and have a smoke. Be right back."

They watched you rush the front door and escape into the snow without your coat. You collapsed against the brick wall, gulping in the much-needed open air. Unlatching your purse, you scrambled through your belongings and retrieved the crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes rotting in the zippered compartment with your tampons. You hadn't touched them in weeks. An early New Year's resolution to yourself to quit smoking.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You lit one up with hungry need and inhaled a deep drag. It immediately soothed the itch in your lungs, but did nothing for the sting burrowing a hole in your chest.

So, he was happy. He was moving on. Did you expect him to wait for you to figure your shit out forever? Did you ever even plan on coming back to him? No. You were selfish and cruel, and you never deserved Steve anyway.

But Jessica? Really? He might as well have gone through the catalogue, closed his eyes, and pointed. She was perfect. His grandmother's engagement ring would suit her better than it ever suited you.

You were halfway through your cigarette and properly shivering when you glanced through the foggy glow of the front window toward your booth. Your stomach lurched into your throat at the sight of Steve standing over the table, pulling off Jessica's coat. She slid in beside Pam and flashed a dazzling smile.

You flung yourself back against the wall. "Fuck."

Well, you could abandon your coat inside and buy a new one. You could Irish goodbye and call your friends tomorrow. You were sure they'd understand the need for a fast getaway.

You stubbed your cigarette out on the rubber bottom of your heeled boot and flicked the butt into the snow. You straightened up and whirled around.

"Hey."

There he stood, pink-cheeked and bundled up. The handsome brown coat from the other day, a black scarf wound and knotted neatly around his neck. Flurries of snow sprinkled the top of his hair like glitter. The wind spun a whiff of his cologne toward your face. He was still so fucking pretty.

You were suddenly on the verge of tears. Standing so close to him felt like looking at the sun.

"They told me you were out here." His words came with puffs of white air. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and pulled his shoulders back.

"Yeah," you squeaked. You cleared your throat and looked toward the snow. "Smoke break."

Steve found the cigarette sizzling in the snow and hummed. The pair of you watched it sink into a divot of white for a while. His loafers crunched over the salted sidewalk when he stepped away from the door.

"Didn't know you were home."

You licked over your lips, suddenly dry and rough from the cold. "Yeah, 'til New Year's."

"Oh," he murmured. He watched the toe of his shoes crush small balls of snow on the ground. He wouldn't move his hands from his pockets.

You pressed back against the wall again and curled your arms around yourself. You could barely feel your fingers anymore.

"She's pretty."

Steve lifted his head in your periphery. The impassive softness of his face slipped. "Don't. Don't fuckin' do that."

The anger in his words hooked inside you like a grapple. There were those tears again, pricking at your lash line. You felt like you could throw up, and out into the snow you'd spew your heart. Whole and full of punctures from the anguish in his eyes.

From all those voicemails he left on your machine that haunted your sleep. Call me back, please, baby. What did I do wrong? We can work through this, we can get through this together. Please don't leave me. Don't do this, Lucy, I love you. You're fucking crushing me.

"What, you wanted me to wait? Sit around like some lost puppy dog just waiting for you to show back up?"

He was yelling now. Tufts of white air shot from his mouth in great gusts. Every one felt like a slap.

"Fuck that. And fuck you! Who does that to a person? And after three years, you're still hiding."

You lifted your head, gazing over at him sorrowfully. "I don't know what to say, Steve."

His shoulders dropped with a sharp sigh. He pulled a hand from his pocket to wipe over his face. "Yeah, well that's a real first."

Steve kicked at the wall with the toe of his boot. Shards of snow and ice fluttered off the soles.

"Were you ever gonna marry me?"

You sniffled, rubbing at your eye to will away the tears. "You don't want me to answer that."

Steve scoffed, ripping away from the wall—and you—to step toward the street. He pushed his hair back and you watched it bounce back into place perfectly.

"Yeah, you always thought you knew what was best for me. But, you know, you never fuckin' asked...I wanted to go with you. I wanted to move, I had—you know what? Never mind."

He spun around and stomped toward the door. You pushed off the wall with another sharp sniffle.

"Steve."

He stopped. Glared at the door handle with a tight jaw.

"She really is pretty. I'm just glad you're happy."

Steve yanked the door open and tossed his head over to you. "Wanna know the best thing about her? She'll never mail me back her ring."

The bar door slammed after him. He took slow steps back toward the booth, and smiled when he saw Jessica. She received a kiss on the cheek and an arm around her shoulders.

You tore Steve Harrington apart. You'd have to live with that for the rest of your life.

Dear Steve,

In true "me" fashion, I left without saying goodbye again. You'll understand how difficult it is to sit in a house right next to yours and still function normally.

I could apologize a million times over, but it would never be enough to fix what I've done. This decision will always be the biggest regret of my entire life. But I never deserved you, Steve.

You said you wanted to move, that you had it all planned out. But I watched you wince for two years at the mention of my hope to go. I watched you cringe and pull away any time someone asked what our plans were. You never wanted to leave Hawkins, and I couldn't be the one to ask you to. I knew one day, you would've hated me for taking you away.

There are a million other things I could say, but just know this:

Any woman on the face of the Earth who's known the gift of being loved by Steve Harrington is the luckiest person in the world.

Merry Christmas, Steve.

Love,

Lucy

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #king steve #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x you

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iovesia · 9 months

Text

✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍' 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄.

slasher!john wick⠀x⠀fem!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. when you and your friends get stuck in the middle of rural texas, you decide to knock on death's door for help.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀70s & slasher au. horror themes. naive!reader. use of marijuana. size kink. john has a southern accent. age gap (20s/40s). murder. gore. no happy ending. manhandling. 2.5k words.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆 ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ i wanted to save this for my upcoming event for october (a themed kinktober el oh el!), but here's just a small au that's been conjuring up in my head for the last few days — hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

"SHIT!" Your boyfriend, Matt yelps, nearly dropping the blunt from his lips as the sound of metal crashing fills your ears. A thick smoke began rising from the hood of the car, and soon enough the rest of you joined in on Matt’s irate attitude.

“Babe, pull over!”

Matt lets out a few curse words under his breath, as he follows your instruction and pulls the Chevy van to the side of the road. The five of you scurry out the vehicle, exposing yourselves to the Texan sun and heatwave.

Matt runs a hand through his feathered black hair while walking over to the front of the old, blue van. Popping the hood, he’s met with another batch of hot smoke, making him exclaim in disgust.

“Matt, you jerk! You just totaled my car,” Trin scoffs, fanning herself with her hand in a desperate attempt to cool down. The rest of the group, consisting of you, Matt, and your two other friends, stand on the rocky terrain on the side of the road, letting out exasperated groans.

“Relax, Trin,” Matt sneers defensively, taking another puff of his blunt. He examines the inside of the hood, his eyes squinting as he rubs the back of his neck. “Shit.. I think we popped.. or lost a valve or something.”

“We?” Trin raises her brow. The pair began bickering amongst each other, pointing fingers and only testing your patience. With their yelling and the sun beaming down on your skin, you prayed your migraine would kill you.

“Would you two just stop?” You sigh, pulling your shades over your head. “The car’s busted, doesn’t matter why. What do we do now?”

“Wait for help, I guess,” your friend, Shane shrugs, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend, Mary-Ann. Silence was casted among the group as you and your friends tried to think of a plan. Granted, the group was more Matt’s friends than yours— but what was his was yours, as Matt liked to pretend.

Your eyes trailed the scenery around you. The dead trees bordering the road, only a few desolate run down buildings nearby. The gas station, standing a few hundred feet, was falling apart at the seams. The shattered windows and creaking of the hanging “WE’RE CLOSED” sign was enough to crush your little hope. After a few agonising minutes, your eyes settle on a small house in the distance. You smile as you rise up, pointing to it and alerting the group.

“Guys!” You call out hopefully. “Let’s go ask them, maybe they can call us a toll or something.”

Shane furrows his brows, grimacing as he snicker. “You’re gonna go all the way to that shack? No, let’s wait here. Someone’s gonna come by soon.”

“Oh, c’mon,” your arms flap to your side, your head turns to glance at both ends of the road. “There’s not gonna be anyone driving here for who knows how long— it’s not gonna hurt to ask.”

“I dunno, girlie,” Mary-Ann purses her glossy lips, her voice monotone with a twinge of her Californian accent laced in. She scratches her bell bottom jean covered leg with her other foot as she turns her head to the house. “Maybe Shane’s right, I’m getting super bad vibes from that house.”

“Everything gives you bad vibes, you hippie,” Trin mocks, wiping the sweat from her forehead, shooting daggers with her eyes at the blonde. The two girls start trading insults, and the familiar ache in your head starts crawling back.

“Ok, well.. you losers can stay here,” Matt finally interjects with useful commentary, handing his half smoked blunt to Trin. “My girl and I will go and actually be useful,” Matt walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the pair of you walk through the field.

AS THE TWO OF YOU APPROACHED THE HOUSE, Mary-Ann’s words rang in your ears. The cream coloured paint on the walls was faded or peeling off like a tangerine, the porch was dusty and cluttered with random items. The patio swing squeaked as the wind forced its swing, the copper shade of the metal would make you think this house was abandoned.

“Maybe blondie back there was right,” Matt jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully, only affirming your thoughts.

The closer you got, the colder the chills down your spine got. You pause in front of the stairs, leading up to a mesh screen door, barely exposing the inside of the seedy home. Your boyfriend’s hand leaves your arm as he takes initiative, walking up the creaky, old stairs. You cross your arms over your chest, watching as he knocks a couple times.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

“What now?” You ask with a scrunched face, softly slapping at the mosquito on your arm. Matt glances over to the swinging seats, and notices the half built fence that led somewhere behind the home. “Let’s just go back to the road—”

“Let’s check the backyard,” Matt ignores your comment, jumping down from the porch, the heels of his boots squishing into the damp grass as he heads for the back. You call his name repeatedly and he only waves his hand as his figure disappears behind the fence.

“Are you kidding me?” You mutter to yourself, as you sit down on the porch stairs, resting your chin on your knees. Minutes that feel like hours go by as you wait for your boyfriend to come back, and he’s still gone. The sun was going to set soon, and you’d rather get back to your friends before it got dark. Worry boils in your chest, and you chew on your nails anxiously waiting.

Suddenly, the mesh door bursts open, slamming against the nearby wall and making you yelp. You jump up, head whipping in the direction of the door and your eyes widen at the sight. An older, brawny man stands in the door frame.

His jeans were splattered with dust and a dark fluid, and his white wife-beater shirt was almost see through from the sweat trailing down his muscles. His coal, black eyes piercing into your doe eyes as he scans your figure, his eyes focused on your exposed legs. You swallow awkwardly, pulling the hem of your red, booty shorts down in an effort to cover more of your skin. You felt naked under his intense stare.

“Hi!” Your voice cracks as you smile, trying to appear friendly. The man’s face is unreadable as he leans against the door frame, eyeing you carefully. “Um.. sorry to bother you, sir. But, uh, my friends and I need some help. Our car broke down, and I was wondering if I could borrow your landline?”

The black haired man just stares at you, his stare occasionally darting down to your smooth legs before back to your face. He breathes deeply and tilts his head to the side, gesturing to his home.

“Yeah.. I got a phone you can use,” he spoke curtly with a slight southern drawl, before disappearing inside. You quickly follow the older man, skipping up the stairs as you gently pull the door open.

Instantly, you’re met with a putrid smell of meat. The humid stench feels worse than the outside, but you try to keep your grimace to yourself as you glance around the room. The entrance was cluttered with old frames, the walls had holes and scratches as if someone had clawed their nails off them.

“In here,” his baritone voice calls out to you and you follow it, leading yourself into the living room. Equally cluttered, if not more. The shabby, grey walls sucked any life out of the room and you tread cautiously to the older man who was sitting at a large dining room table.

His calloused hand brushed against yours when he handed you the landline. You smile politely before turning around as you dial the number for an automobile service. You hummed quietly to yourself while the landline rang next to your ear, not even noticing the older man standing right behind you, looking right down on you.

“Damn,” you hissed before putting the landline back. You turn around and jump again, your face immediately bumping against the man’s torso. “S-Sorry.. Didn’t know you were standing.. so close,” you mumble, your face flushing.

“Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?” The raven haired man wets his lips, picking up a dish towel from the table. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

You say your name softly, as heat blooms in your face. You can’t help but focus on his figure, the glistening of his biceps and the movement of his large hands as he wipes them with a towel makes your throat go dry.

“I’m John. You said your friend's car’s stuck somewhere, or what?” His baritone voice snaps you out of your ogling and you nod distractedly.

“Yeah.. yeah— it’s the chevy van out there. Dunno if you can see it,” you turn your head and point through the half broken window to the small car in the distance. John hums.

“Popped a tire?”

“No, it’s the hood. I think we, like.. lost a valve or something,” you say with air quotes, still focused on trying to see your friends.

“Pretty girl like you don’t have a boyfriend that could find it for you?” John teases, raising a brow as he catches a glimpse of the van. Your eyes widen at the compliment, and you clear your throat, a small smile etching onto your face.

“No.. I.. I don’t.”

“Don’t have a boyfriend, or don’t have one that could find it for you?”

Your eyes meet again and you let out a soft chuckle when John’s brow quirks up, a matching smile on his lips. You scratch the back of your neck and take a breath.

“N-No, I mean I have a boyfriend,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “he just.. can’t find it.”

“Bet there’s a lotta things that he can’t find,” John snorts under his breath and the innuendo goes straight over your head.

There’s a painful silence casted upon the room, and you shift your weight to your other leg as you stand there, gazing out the window. You furrow your brows in confusion when you realise you can’t see your friends by the van anymore.

The older man sighs and glances around the room. “I could take a look at it if you want. Just gotta go get my things,” he gestures behind him with his thumb and quickly turns to walk away. He’s gone before you could say anything, and you’re left alone in the room.

The sun shone through the crack glass of the windows, illuminating the dust particles floating through the air. Inspecting the antique living room, you analyse the framed pictures closer, even daring to pick up one of them. The cobwebs on the glass frame made you cringe as you gently brushed it away.

It was a picture of a family, all men standing in a line, all looked astonishingly similar to John. John stood in the middle, with two younger men on each side. He was holding a large butcher knife, and the entire family wore white aprons, stained with blood. The hanging pig in the background made you queasy. Perhaps it’s his brothers.. or his sons? You thought, slightly intrigued, and disturbed.

A muted cry, abruptly muffled by a low droning noise, broke your thoughts, immediately calling your attention outside the living room. Curious and naive as you were, you set the frame down. Your sandals slap against the wooden floor as you crept out the living room, and towards the door where the sound came from.

The door was unlike the others— covered in a strange fur, and chains on the handle, and slowly squeaked open, almost urging you to investigate further. The droning noise gets louder, and sounds of shackles and screaming fill your ears and strike fear in your heart.

“(Y/N), help!”

Colour drains from your face, and against your better judgement, you slam the mysterious door open at your boyfriend’s desperate call of your name. The door revealed a staircase, with sunlight barely shining on the first step as it leads to darkness.

You tiptoe cautiously down the stairs, the sounds of horror growing louder and louder as it echoes through the dim, damp basement. Water leaks from the pipes above, small sounds of the water pattering only makes the hair on your neck stand up as you edge closer to the sounds. Stopping right in front of another door, a dark liquid begins to pour out from the bottom, and your jaw drops.

“M-Matt?” You call out, lower lip wobbling.

The lively roaring of the chainsaw abruptly stops.

Thud.

A blood curdling scream escapes your lips when the door is slammed open and your boyfriends body slumps to the floor. His feathered black hair, now matteted with his own blood as his baby brown eyes rolled to the back of his head. Matt’s denim jacket was torn to shreds, along with his matching denim jeans— the blood poured endlessly out of his massacred body, washing over the entire floor and staining the bottom of your shoes.

“Oh.. Oh my god!” You shrill, a trembling hand hovering over your mouth and your eyes fill with tears. Horror and nausea wash over you in waves, as bile boils in your throat. You cower backwards, practically tripping over yourself as you hurry to get away from the source of this terror.

The chainsaw wielding maniac turns to face you, and reveals himself to be one of the boys in the picture. The same sick smile on his face as he pulls the chain of the weapon, the thunderous howl of the chainsaw coming back to life.

Suddenly a pair of muscular arms wrap around your waist, lifting your frail frame off the ground and you let out a terrified shriek. Kicking and screaming, your feet meet the ground and your back is pressed tightly against a toned chest. Lips brush against your ear, and the eerie words invited goosebumps on your skin.

“It’s awfully rude to snoop, darlin’”

You let out another painful scream as you realise it’s John— John and his deranged family responsible for this massacre of Matt. His calloused hands roam your torso, groping at your skin and holding you firmly against his sweaty chest.

“Theodore…” John’s voice is low as he scolds his apprentice, who stands in front of you two, his cherub face doused in the blood and tears of your boyfriend, a twisted grin etched on his lips. “You’re scarin’ our guest.”

The younger man just laughs maniacally, dropping his weapon to the ground, and the loud thud of the chainsaw makes you whimper. You squirm helplessly in John’s grip, but your attempts to escape were fruitless. “Let me go! Let me go, you psychos!” Your voice is hoarse and your face flooded with tears.

“Aw, I don’t think so, darlin’,” John’s beard scratches against your cheek, his constricting grip on you nearly crushes your lungs.

“I think we’re gonna keep you a little longer— show you that real southern hospitality.”

Your screams and cries for help are drowned out by the two madmen’s deranged laughter and taunts.

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom. @hqmmett @ilovedilfs4ever

let me know if you wish to be added/removed♡

#dark.josie #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick #slasher!au #texas chainsaw massacre

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yelenasdiary · 6 months

Text

Once Upon A Dream

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: Yelena surprises you and shared daughter with a vacation to remember!

Warnings: Teeny Tiny Angst, Fluff, Mentions of scars, Brief Mention of PTSD | 2.3K

Translations: милый (darling), Detka (baby),

AC: I think this little AU deserves a happy fic, so enjoy! Also friendly reminder, this is the only variant of Yelena that I can see having a child, if this isn’t your vibe, don’t read xx.

"Where are we going?" you turned to your wife who grabbed the last suitcase from the trunk of the Uber's car. "You'll find out tonight" Yelena replied with a cheeky smirk on her lips, with a shack of your head at her you grabbed your suitcase with your free hand, Natalia holding your other before the three of you walked into the airport. Natalia now a 5-year-old was most excited to be going on her first plane ride rather than finding out what her Mama had planned for the family of three.

Yelena did everything in her power to keep the surprise from slipping, she checked in the three of you while you sat near the terminal with Natalia. "Mommy when do we get on the plane?" she asked, holding her stuffed Maleficent as a dragon plushie. "You'll have to ask mama peanut, when she gets back" you replied. The little girl with blonde hair and big green eyes threw herself on the seat beside you and huffed making you raise a brow slightly at her little outburst.

"Everything is all set" Yelena smiled as she sat down beside you, keeping the plane tickets out of view. "Mama, can we get on the plane now?" Natalia asked looking over you to Yelena, "Shortly милый, come here, I have a secret to tell you" Your wife gestured for the little girl to walk over to her with her index finger. Natalia loved secrets, mainly because she loved the tickle feeling she got whenever somebody whispered into her ear. You watched as your daughter's face lit up rather quickly with whatever your wife just whispered to her, she jumped up and down trying to keep herself from squealing which only made your mind run through ideas of what Yelena could possibly have planned.

The flight was 5.5 hours long, Natalia was asleep with her head resting against your forearm as she slept peacefully between you and Yelena. "She's not going to sleep tonight" you whispered to your wife.

"I've already got that part covered; don't you worry about a single thing" Yelena winked before her eyes returned to the book in her hand. By now you were just desperate to know what Yelena was up too, she just returned from a 10-month deployment a week ago and ever since coming home she had been very secretive.

It wasn't until the three of you were in the backseat of another Uber that Yelena finally told you what was happening. With a slightly tired little girl sitting in between you both, Yelena reached into her backpack and pulled out three horned headbands.

"So, this is where I can't keep the secret anymore" Yelena looked at you, handing you a headbang with a soft smile, "We're spending a week at Disneyland!" she added. Natalia put on her maleficent themed headband and looked up at you with the biggest smile, "Mama said Maleficent will be there!!!" she boosted. You couldn't help but smile before reaching over Natalia and kissing Yelena deeply, "surprise detka" she smiled against your lips.

Yelena knew how much you've wanted to experience Disneyland with the three of you but the dream had become such a long distant thought over the past few years that you almost forgot all about it. "Thank you" you replied before kissing her again. Yelena had planned everything to perfection, not a single thing was left unthought of. Your little family would be staying in a 2-bedroom suite at Disney's Grand Californian Hotel & Spa and Yelena wasn't lying when she said she had Natalia getting some more sleep covered.

Once at the hotel, you helped Natalia get into her Moana themed pjs before Yelena reminded her that she needs to get a goodnights sleep before she goes on a magical adventure tomorrow. Of course, only after a bedtime story was the little girl who was almost too much of a spitting image of her mother asleep snuggled into her plushie.

"Honey" you spoke softly has you unpacked the toiletries and placed them on the bathroom countertop. Yelena came up behind you, instantly wrapping her arms around your waist, "yes my love?" She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek. It was already getting late, soon to be 10pm and you had no idea what Yelena had planned for tomorrow. You turned in her arms, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck with a bottle of cream in one hand.

"How long have you had this planned?" You asked with a soft smile.

"Months, I had Nat help me book stuff while I was away. If you think the surprises stop here, you're wrong" she replied before kissing your lips softly, "Kate is going to fly out here in 2 days and watch Natalia so we can have some time alone" she added. You and Yelena haven't had a decent chance to have some one on one time for a long time, between her deployments, having Natalia & your own deployment, finding time for each other was almost near impossible but you both made do with what you had.

"You really are full of surprises" your smile grew, "could you please?" You asked, bringing the cream in your hand to Yelena's view. She nodded, "go lay down detka, I'll be there in a moment, just going to brush my teeth" she replied before kissing you deeply once more. This new part of your nightly routine was never your favorite but somehow, Yelena was able to make you forget why she was rubbing cream into the scars on your back. Maybe it was the way she kissed every single one of them before she worked her hands softly and tenderly over them with cream while she told you jokes that she found hilarious.

Or maybe it was how tightly she held you close to her afterwards, whispering sweet nothings as you fell into a slumber in her protective and loving arms. Either way, she made the process easier.

——

Natalia was up bright and early at 6am with pure excitement for the day ahead. She slipped out of bed and was quick to her Maleficent horned headband before running into your shaded room with your wife and jumping on the two of you.

"Mommy wake up!!" She shook you awake before Yelena wrapped her arms around her making her squeal as her mother covered her little face with kisses. "Mama!!! That tickles!!" Your daughter giggled in the arms of your wife while your eyes adjusted to being awake.

You smiled softly as you watched your wife hop off the bed with your daughter still in her arms, flying her around the room. "Faster Mama!!!" Natalia giggled, her arms spread wide as if she was an airplane. It always amazed you just how much energy Yelena had so early in the morning while it was a bit of a struggle for you to wake up without a warm mug of coffee or tea depending on the weather.

"Bug do you want a bath this morning or a shower? You didn't haven't one last night" you asked your daughter as Yelena placed her back on her feet and you sat up in bed.

"Shower! I'm a big girl now!" She replied with confidence.

"I'll help her, you get some coffee into you. We have breakfast reservations at 8" Yelena said as she wandered over to her suitcase. "Can I wear my horns today mama?" Natalia asked as she jumped back up onto the large bed and instantly cuddled you. "I've got the perfect outfit for you sweetheart!" Yelena replied as she turned around with a child sized Maleficent costume in hand, "what do you think?" she asked with a smile.

Natalia's eyes widened at the costume before she nodded her head ecstatically. Thanks to Kate, Maleficent was your daughter's favorite Disney character, she loved how Maleficent was able to transform into a dragon, it blew her mind when Kate had Maleficent: Mistress of all evil playing in the background once while babysitting Natalia.

Breakfast was a whole new experience for your little one, Yelena booking a table for 3 at Disney Princess Breakfast Adventure, giving Natalia a breakfast experience that she'll never forget. Entering the restaurant, you were greeted by 2 different princesses and of course, Natalia's eyes lit up when she saw one of them was Aurora.

She let go of your hand and ran up to the woman in the pink dress, you couldn't help yourself but capture the moment on your phone while your daughter played her role as maleficent and made jokes about putting a spell on the princess. Your eyes looked over to your wife who was watching the event unfold in front of her, a soft smile on her lips and a loving look in her eyes made you realise this trip was something Yelena needed for herself as well. A whole different environment, surrounded by excitement, love and other families to help her forget the events she had experienced recently.

The rest of the day was spent at Disneyland, Yelena taking Natalia on multiple rides over and over again, shopping of course, stopping every few steps to meet the next famous character walking around the theme park. Everything was so exciting for Natalia, her smile glued to her face the entire day, as for you, you had to capture so many moments on your phone's camera causing a growing excitement to make a scrapbook when you returned home.

"Can we go again mama?! Pleaseeee?" Natalia begged to go another round on the Dumbo the Flying Elephant ride.

"We can't detka, we have to get to the Halloween party for your big surprise remember?" Yelena replied with her hand reaching out for your daughter to cling onto. Natalia ran to her mother's side without a second thought, the three of you began to walk towards the Halloween party. The area was surrounded by other Disneyland goers as they all crowed some of the characters standing out the front while others took pictures and videos with them.

"I can't see mama!" Natalia looked up at Yelena. Natalia was a little shorter than most children her age, but it never usually bothered her until it came to doing things that required her height to be taller. You watched as your wife picked up your daughter and placed her on her shoulders, another moment for you to capture on your phone.

"Mommy! Mama!! Look!!!" Your daughter pointed with excitement as a woman dressed as Maleficent came out of the building, Natalia's face lit up instantly as she watched the fairy make her presence known.

"Well, Well" the character spoke, their eyes looking around at the crowd of families and couples. "I don't like children but –" the fairy pointed to your daughter, "you, come here" she added. If Natalia had moved any faster your wife would've dropped her, she placed her on her feet before apologizing to those around her when Natalia pushed her way through to the character that she was dressed as.

"Hi Maleficent!" Your daughter spoke with high confidence, a wide smile and a little sparkle in her eyes. The woman played the character all too well and Natalia loved every single moment. "Don't you look terribly evil today" Maleficent spoke followed by her famous chuckle, "and what evil things have you done today child?" she asked.

"I made my mama go on lots of rides!" Natalia boosted making both you and your wife chuckle.

"Where is your Mama?" Maleficent asked as she looked up at the crowd, "are you mama?" she pointed at Yelena when she saw you both laughing. Yelena nodded, "and that's my mommy!" Natalia added.

"Well you better come forward, move out of the way people" Maleficent replied as she gestured for you and Yelena to take a few steps forward to get the best quality photos of the moment.

"Now, maybe you can help me child" the fairy turned to your daughter one more, "have you seen young Aurora around by chance?" she asked. Natalia nodded, "she was at the restaurant I had breakfast at!"

"Did you cast a spell on her for me?" Maleficent's question followed.

"Yes! I put a sleeping spell on her!" Your daughter replied, even though she didn't think of such a thing, she was soaking up the moment she was sharing with her favorite villain. "Well done child, keep being evil and have a happy Halloween" Maleficent did her evil laugh once more before posing with Natalia.

----

After dinner at one of Disney's restaurants, the three of you stuck around for a fireworks show at 7pm. You could tell that Natalia would sleep like a log tonight, she was already so tired as you carried her to the viewing spot, Yelena's hands full of the bags of shopping she'd taken you and Natalia to before dinner. All throughout dinner your daughter couldn't stop talking about her meet and greet with Maleficent and you could tell by the look on Yelena's face that she was proud of herself for making sure this little vacation happened.

As the fireworks began, Yelena wandered over to a nearby bench and sat down with her eyes glued to the ground. You knew the display was triggering her PTSD but before you could do anything, Natalia asked for you to put her down. You watched as she walked over to Yelena, "it's okay mama, I'll keep you safe" You heard her little innocent voice over the fireworks as she wrapped her tiny arms around your wife. Your eyes teared up, Natalia had no idea why her mother disliked fireworks so much, but she knew they scared her and she did exactly what you and Yelena did whenever there was a thunderstorm, be there for her.

You wandered over to your girls and sat down beside Yelena, placing your head on her shoulder. The three of you watched the firework display, on of Yelena's hands rested on your knee while her other was wrapped around Natalia in a tight hug. "I love you mama" Natalia whispered once the fireworks were over, placing a kiss on her cheek.

#fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #yelena belova x reader #military! yelena #black widow #hawkeye

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abilouwrites · 6 months

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LOVE STORY

Taylor swift szn y’all

Mat Barzal being in love w his neighbor

The day she moved in Mat was smitten. Filled with Californian sun and those long legs and dusty light brown hair. She’s got a little pep in her step but a shuffle as she slides into her flip-flops and grabs a box.

She’s followed by an older man and a younger boy. The girl still holds his attention; she seems a little disoriented. Not in a drunk way, but in the way that makes her wonder if this is actually her new life.

“Matty” He hears his mother shout out, “be a nice strong boy and help our new neighbors”

Although he wants to meet her; it’s not under these circumstances. That’s an awkward meet cute. And not one that he wants with her.

“Mom— I don’t know.. they seem to handle it” he groans out, “Shit woman ok” he sighs hearing her stop up the stairs

“Oh mat you’re such a baby. Go on. Be a good neighbor. I’m bakin them some muffins” She tsks smacking his back as he jogs down the steps.

“Fine fine I’ll give them a hand” the brunette grumbles out.

He shuffles a little, tucking his hands into his pockets. He tucks his shoulder in and looks a little bashful through his shaggy brown hair.

The girl looks over her shoulder at him, her hair swishes back as she looks at him. All wide eyes and new to this street.

“Hey, I’m uh. Mat.. Barzal I live next door” He introduces reaching his hand out for her to shake. She shakes his hand and nods at him. Eyeing him up and down

“You’re not wearing a Shirt” She points out, before she meets his eyes again, “I’m y/n” she smiles a little. Lip turned up a little and he can see her teeth. But just a sliver.

“Yeah.. I my mom. She made me come out an help. And I haven’t done laundry yet so” he shrugs a little and smiles nervously, “how can I help?”

“Uh. Just some boxes. They’re all labeled with like kitchen and bathroom n stuff” y/n shrugs as she reaches for a box with her name, “I’m just trying to get my room set up”

“Oh, ok. Yeah let me help you” he offers taking another box with her name on it. She nods and leads him inside.

“Are those your parents?” He asks; attempting to make small talk as she walks upstairs.

“Just my dad. She’s my stepmom.” The blonde rolls her eyes a little, “this is my room” she kicks the door open a little and he uses his shoulder to open it the rest.

“Oh. Ok. Uh is that all the boxes?”

“Yeah. Just for my room. Thanks” she mumbles a little taking a knife and ripping through the tape.

“I could help you get set up..” he offers

“Oh. Yeah actually that would be nice”

The two of them unbox and rebuild plenty of her furniture. She makes idle conversation and he replies, he makes conversation and she responds.

Mat watches as she ties her hair back, “so.. you play any sports?” She asks; he nervously looks down and nods, “what?”

“Yeah. I play hockey. With my dad” he purses his lips nervous from the Californians response

“Cool. Does this Highschool have a team or is it club?” She asks

“Both. What about you?” He inquires. Shaking his head a little

“Soccer. So does VHS have a soccer team? Is it good?” She asks leaning foreword a little

“Yeah. They’re good.” He shrugs, “will you try out this fall?”

“Yeah. I’ll try hopefully. I don’t know how willing they’ll be for a junior just barging in for varsity”

“Were you on varsity at your last school?”

“Yeah, I was”

“As a sophomore?”

“Yeah”

When school starts the two had grown closer, her hair went back to its soft brown color. And that natural curl was coming back.

Mat drives her to school and nervously looks at her, “I think I’m gonna try out for captain this year. Because I’m a senior” he confesses. Leaning back into the car seat.

“I think you would be a good captain” she tells him, leaning over a bit as the two sit in the parking lot.

“I hope. Would you come to any games?”

“Hell I’d wear your jersey” she teases. Her face smooshed against the car seat, “you’d be a good captain Matty”

“I hate when you call me that” he sighs softly, inching just a bit closer

“Why?” She inquires responding to his closeness

“It just..” he sighs and looks down, “my mom calls me that. And so does this girl”

“Which girl”

He leans a little closer to the glossy lipped teen, he looks at her lips then up at her eyes, “you”

“Why is it a bad thing?”

“It’s bad.. because when ever you say it. It makes me want to kiss you” he faintly whispers.

“So kiss me”

His hand reaches for her chin and tilts her head up bringing her in for a kiss.

She groans a little into it as his hand wraps around her neck and her arms bring him closer.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #louiseabilenewrites #mat barzal my beloved #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal edit #mat barzal fic #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mat barzal social media au

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cardibgans · 1 year

Text

SMILES AND LOOKS | eddie roundtree

. ˖࣪ ⚝ cute (none warning)

. ˖࣪ ⚝ eddie roundtree x fem!oc

. ˖࣪ ⚝ 965 words . .

Y/N: Well, how I met Eddie... It's kind of funny.

EDDIE: She was still working as a waitress in a restaurant that we all went to frequently.

Y/N: And he never looked away from me, sometimes it was a little weird, because he never took any action. Until I started talking to him and found out that he had just moved to LA and was in a band.

EDDIE: Who can blame me? Have you guys looked at Y/N?

Y/N: That was right before I was working as a songwriter for the new band Teddy was creating.

EDDIE: But one day I decided to try my luck.

It was the hottest day Los Angeles had seen in years. And as it turned out, all the Californians were on the beaches to cool off. On the other hand, the Six were in the coffee shop next to the record label where they were supposed to be writing songs at that very moment, but it was too hot to think about anything.

── Here are the lemonades. ── The waitress in the vibrant blue and yellow apron took the glasses off the tray and left them on the table in front of her for all six friends.

── Thank you, Y/N. ── Eddie smiled. Of course they had talked several times, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it was funny when Y/N catches him looking at her.

── What are you guys doing today? ── S/N asked as he was tucking the huge metal tray under his arm.

── We don't know yet. ── Camila replied, shaking the straw in her glass.

── We should be working on a song, but in this heat it's almost impossible. ── Graham said.

── I'm going to have to agree. ── She gave a low laugh. ── Don't worry, folks. Soon a melody and some cool lyrics will appear for you.

── Hey. Don't you want to go to the beach with us after your shift? ── Eddie asked.

── Sure! That would be great. ── The blonde gave a big smile.

── Right!

EDDIE: It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn't a real date, but it was a good start, right?

Y/N: What he didn't know was that I had a little crush on him at that time.

EDDIE: Wait, she said that?

After the end of his workday, which on weekends was shortened to after noon, Y/N was already heading down to the beach. His house was not that far from there, so it was easy to leave to change and not take so long to do so.

Karen was the first to see Y/N, he waved for her to see them and she returned the greeting. Camila pulled Eddie close to her and before the woman could reach her, she managed to whisper in his ear.

── You better act today.

EDDIE: It sounded like a threat to me... But what matters is that in the end I got the girl. Thanks, Camila, for the little push.

Y/N: Cam has always been there to take care of everyone.

After a few beers and cigarettes, Eddie and Y/N were left alone by their Roundtree band mates. Just the two of them enjoying the beach breeze hitting their faces and hair.

── And that's how he ended up with the hotel bathroom. ── Y/N gave a loud laugh. Eddie should be telling about their idiocy on The Dunne Brothers tour. ── It was good while it lasted.

── I'm sorry about that, Ed. ──── He shook his head and took the last sip of his beer.

── On the bright side, I never would have met him if the band had worked out. ── The level of alcohol in Eddie's veins was having an effect on his behavior and his attitude.

Y/N smiled watching Eddie gazing at the sunset. She gave him a slight nudge with her arm. Roundtree looked at her with a smile on his face.

── What? ── He asked, confused. Now she was looking at him in that strange way.

EDDIE: I could only think of one thing.... "Who's looking in a strange way now?"

INTERVIEWER: Is that where you knew you loved him?

Y/N: I knew the first time I saw him… Despite the strange looks we were giving each other.

EDDIE: That is still the case today, as incredible as it seems.

── Nothing. Just let it go. ── Y/N turned her gaze to the sea. But Eddie asked with his eyes that she say something. ── Thank you for inviting me, Eddie. I really needed that. ── She smiles again, looking at his face.

── God, stop doing that. ── Eddie brushes his hair back, receiving a confused look from the woman beside him. ── Every time you smile at me like that, my mind locks up and I don't know what to say. ── Y/N felt her heart racing so fast she couldn't hear anything but him. She let out a low laugh and moved closer to him.

── So you don't want me to smile closer to you? ── She whispered, looking into Eddie's eyes and then into his mouth.

── Please don't. ── He answered in a whisper, before he glued his lips to hers.

EDDIE: I kissed her. And if it were only up to me, we'd be married the next day.

Y/N: Eddie is exaggerating. He still took a long time to propose and even longer to get engaged.

EDDIE: What can I do? I wanted to keep her with me as long as possible. And it worked.

#daisy jones and the six #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie roundtree #camila dunne #camila alvarez #daisy jones and the six x reader

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looneyleyle · 5 days

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the self-destructive habits of a hopeless romantic ~ j. hughes

synopsis: monetizing one's self-sabotaging habits, surprisingly, has its downfalls. one of them being leaving that one attractive hockey player that is an absolute gentleman who loves you with his whole entire heart.

warnings: self-sabotage, self-deprecation, angsty (but with happy ending)

word count: 3425 words

note: once again unedited but i wanted to get this one out there

???'s pov

time and time again, the world has seen the self destructive habits of humans. well, that makes it seem serious. the world has seen the countless missed opportunities due to a fear of another's reaction. the world has seen the blunders due to saving face. the world has seen the heartbreaks due to miscommunication. time and time again, the world has seen how people sabotage their own lives for the dumbest reasons.

esther graham was no different.

in fact, she capitalized on her ability to put herself into the worst emotional distress possible. every heartbreak produced a great work of literature that would nearly sell out in bookstores all over the northeast. she wasn't a new york times best seller by any means, but she was a small town writer from mont vernon, new hampshire. she made a name for herself during her time at hamilton college in their creative writing program. in her junior year of college, she published her first book, woes of a teenage failure, a novel following what could have been for a young college drop out named sophia. the book was a hit amongst her peers and professors, and by word of mouth, ended up selling 200 copies. the book, as ms. graham remarked, was her own "what-if" story, as she almost dropped out of college the beginning of her sophomore year.

and how do i know so much about ms. graham?

well, because i am ms. esther graham.

and i'm here to tell you all about the biggest blunder of my life.

after my first book, i hit major writing block. i would stare at my computer screen for hours just to delete the only three words that i could come up with. i would sit in coffee shops, pen in hand, ready for inspiration to strike, and yet, nothing. i was nearing the end of my college career, riding on the coattails of my first and only book's success, and couldn't figure out how to continue. my professors taught me plenty of ways to try and combat writer's block, but nothing worked.

until i met ryan. a devilishly handsome man all the way from the cheese state of wisconsin, who was meeting up with some college friends for the annual boston beanpot. we had our meet cute at a nearby pizza joint, in which i sat down and started chatting with him, thinking he was a publisher that i was supposed to meet with. after realizing my blunder when he had absolutely no idea what an anthology was, he asked if i wanted to join him and his friends at the beanpot, as one of their friends had cancelled, leaving them with an extra ticket.

ryan and i dated for four months. we would take turns traveling between my college in new york and his in wisconsin until eventually it became too much, or should i say, too little for him, and he broke it off. in my rage and complete depression from the breakup, i wrote my next hit, until the sun sets, a 142-page anthology of gut-wrenching poems, which was eventually integrated into hamilton college's curriculum for their young adult modern literature class. i was quite proud of that.

after that, i found myself yet again staring at blanks screens and empty notepads.

that is, until chloe. a beautiful new york native whom i had actually met while dating ryan. she was a hostess at a restaurant ryan and i would always go to. she was pursuing her masters in psychology, which gave me fascinating insights and tactics to use in my books. we were never officially together, but we had something for almost three months before she was whisked off by some californian named ella. i never saw her again, which prompted my next book, the ninth floor, a murder mystery following a closeted lesbian couple in 1940's hollywood (it was one of the girlfriends the whole time).

at this point, when i hit a creative block for the third time, i realized that i needed my heart or brain to be in absolute shambles in order to produce my best work. i needed to be at some sort of life crisis, and the easiest way to do so was to love another and let that love be ripped out of your life.

so, i began dating for the sake of my career. it was like i sought out the most manipulative, scummy people in the world who were able to get away with it just because they were attractive. over the course of a year, my first year out of college, i dated a total of three men and one woman, and poured my emotions out into a collection of short stories titled lavender.

and that was when i met jack.

i was in new jersey for a book signing at this little bookstore which, as it turns out, was right by the prudential center. as i left the bookstore, i was nearly run over by an overly excited man-child with a giant bag slung upon his shoulder.

"luke, watch out, you nearly killed that woman!" a voice yelled from where the man came from.

"i'm so sorry about that miss, my brother can get a bit overexcited sometimes." looking at the person talking to me, i found a young, very attractive brunet with the most adorable smile. i straightened myself up instinctively, wanting to appear presentable.

"no worries. if you don't mind me asking, what got him so riled up that he almost trampled me?" the man let out a laugh at my statement.

"of course, we owe you at least that much for your near-death experience. he just got nominated for the calder trophy." he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. seeing my blank stare, he clarified. "a rookie of the year award. we play for the new jersey devils." the boy in question came up and joined us, grinning ear to ear.

"ahhh, i see. i'm not a big hockey watcher, which i know is absolute blasphemy for someone who grew up in new hampshire." his jaw nearly dropped.

"you're from up here and don't like hockey? we have to change that." he exclaimed. in my peripheral vision, i could see his brother trying to hide his laughter at his brother's forwardness.

"ill have to come and watch a game sometime." i mused.

"we have a game coming up next week against the blue jackets. i could maybe snatch you a seat in exchange for your number." he proposed. his brother snorted at that, having to turn around to hide his obvious laughter. the man paid his brother no mind, just looking at me with a big smile on his face.

"trying to bribe me mister?"

"is it working?" i put my hand out and he immediately put his phone in my hand, adding my information into his contacts.

"esther? that's nice, you look like a esther." i quirked an eyebrow at him, but continued on anyways.

"and you? what should i call you?"

"call me yours. or jack, either works." the brother was doubled over on the floor at this point, jack finally acknowledging him by kicking him slightly, making him fall over.

"anyways, ms. esther, we have to get going, but ill see you next week at our game." he put out his hand for me to shake.

"you've got yourself a deal jack."

and just like that, jack and i started talking. his eagerness was cute, he texted me no more than ten minutes after meeting me. we talked every day, mainly on calls, asking each other questions and such to get to know each other.

and sure enough, the next week, i found myself back in new jersey watching the brothers play. i assumed jack was going to be some sort of benchwarmer or something, but that didn't seem to be the case. despite my lack of hockey knowledge, i could tell the boy was good, and he had quite a fan base if the amount of women wearing his jersey meant anything. and i felt severely out of place, simply wearing a grey sweater and jeans, unlike everyone else in the stands, decked out in red.

after that, i found myself going to a couple more hockey games, for no particular reason. jack would try to explain the game over video calls and our occasional coffee meet ups, but i couldn't for the life of me wrap my head around it. why do they all get off the ice every five seconds? and what the hell is offsides?? jack always laughed at my confusion, telling me that i'd get it one day.

we spent a couple months thriving off of video chats and once-in-a-blue-moon hangouts, until i got a job as an editor for a local paper. i was good at editing, always having good grammar and an eye for design, but it wasn't my dream. despite it not being my dream, i needed a stable income, and fast. my mind was devoid of ideas, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

plus, it helped that this stable income happened to be in new york city, putting me a lot closer to a certain someone. and, with me being closer, that certain someone would pop on by a lot more than before. and eventually, chinese takeout dinners turned into staying the night, which turned into coming up for the weekend, which turned into the line of friendship being crossed into something more.

and then, i made the dumbest mistake of my life.

i let him go.

now, i know what you must be thinking. he must have done something wrong, he must have cheated or neglected me or done something so completely unforgivable that i would just throw away the most amazing thing in my life. and i wish i was here to tell you that was the truth.

but it wasn't.

jack was nothing but a gentleman, and i was just a broken girl doing the only thing i knew how to do: leave. i like to tell myself that it was for my career, that i needed to write another book, that i wasn't fulfilled in my job and that i was putting myself first by doing this, but i was perfectly content with my life. i was an editor for a major publishing company, i started writing little happy poems about my mundane life with jack, and wanted nothing more. i had no reason to run away. i just woke up in his bed one day and realized that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and i couldn't accept that. i had gotten so used to leaving people that i assumed that they would leave me if i hadn't done so first, and i couldn't lose the one real thing i ever had.

so naturally, my self-destructive, self-sabotaging self let him go, the exact opposite of what i wanted.

and when i got back to my apartment after writing jack a confusing and half-assed letter, i cried. i cried and cried and cried, and i always wrote about characters crying until they couldn't anymore, but that day, i couldn't find the end to my tears. for hours tears would either slowly leak or violently pour from my eyes, and they never did end, not even when i passed out on my couch from exhaustion.

and after a week, i was expecting to pick myself up and start writing my next best seller, coping with my writing. but i sat there, and my florescent computer screen simply sat there, staring back at me. and when i left my apartment for a change of scenery, the blank pages of my notebook mocked me. i flipped through past works, all of them being little poems about jack, and the waterworks continued, right in the middle of a starbucks.

after a week and four days, i couldn't take it. i had to make things right, i had to at least see him. it always worked in the books, right? someone makes a huge mistake, they break up, they see each other again and realize they're both miserable without each other and then get back together and live happily ever after.

when i knocked on the door to jack's apartment, i was met with an unimpressed looking luke. at the sight of him, the waterworks started up again.

"you're an idiot, you know that?" i nodded furiously at this, sobs wrecking through my body. i couldn't see through the tears in my eyes, but i could tell the luke hadn't moved a muscle.

"he deserved better and you know that." i felt my soul being crushed. "i mean, a letter? seriously esther? and a half-assed one at that. i know damn well you don't have a degree in creative writing for that bullshit."

i opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came up. what would i say, that i was a broken person? cop out. that i did it to everyone? not much better. that i got scared? fucking coward.

"if you think that you deserve to see my brother, then i'll let you in." he told me, moving out of the way, door open wide. i just stood there, staring at him through teary eyes. my brain cheered, finally able to go in, but my feet wouldn't move.

my heart still clenched and ached, and with every thought of moving forward, into that apartment, it hurt more. jack didn't deserve this. after all the nights of him reading my poems about him and praising my work, after all the sweet things he'd say when i was down, after all the little acts of kindness he showed me, after all the love he poured into us, he didn't deserve to be broken by me. hurt people hurt people, the scholars had that right. he didn't deserve to be broken.

and so, i got ready to leave, again.

"i'm sorry." was all i said, turning around with heavy legs and a heavy heart. i heard luke let out a sigh as i walked away, closing the door behind him.

a couple of days went by and i found myself back at their apartment. i knew they wouldn't be there, they had an away game in anaheim the night before, and i knew from my time with jack that they would always spend the night in the city before coming back, especially after a win, a 5-0 win no less.

i stood there in front of their door, a small box in my hands, contemplating. jack didn't deserve this, but a selfish part of me needed this. i placed the box gingerly outside of their door and left the building. if the box was taken by some nosy neighbor, or thrown in the trash by some janitor, then it would be fate. it would be a sign to move on. but, there was a chance that jack and luke would come back to their apartment, and would pick up the box, and jack would recognize my handwriting. and, instead of throwing the box in the trash like any normal self-respecting person receiving a box from their shitty ex, he would take it to his room, and open it up to see my notebook, with a bookmark starting at the pages when i first started seeing him. and he would read the poems and maybe, just maybe, he'd see the note written on the bookmark to meet me at the park near his apartment, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to hear me out.

i went to that park every single day for exactly one month and six days, always arriving by 1 pm, never late. and i would stay there until 4 pm, waiting.

on the 37th day, i was sitting there, editing, funnily enough, a sports column about the recent devils and islanders game. i watched it, absolutely terrible game it was, the islanders beating the devils for the first time in the season. our sports journalist, while passionate and very knowledgeable about seemingly every sport out there, had a knack for writing long, run-on sentences that reflected his rambling nature. as i sat there on the same park bench i had been sitting on for the previous 36 days, a figure stopped in front of me. i finished up the sentence i was working on before looking up.

and while i hate cliches, the wind was absolutely knocked out of my lungs.

"h-hey jack." i started, immediately putting away my work, giving him my full attention.

"hey esther." a shiver ran down my spine from him just saying my name. it had been so long, and while it lost its loving tone, i welcomed it with open arms. jack moved, taking the spot next to me, looking out at the trees in front of us. when it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, i started the conversation.

"i see you read the notebook."

"i finished it three weeks ago." he replied, voice lacking its usual emotion. tears welled up in my eyes. three weeks.

"oh."

"i came here immediately after finishing it." i felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets at that. he continued, "i went to that bench over there and watched as you fidgeted in your spot, looking frantically at everyone who passed by. i watched the next day as you sat in the pouring rain with no umbrella. i sat over on that bench every day that i was here since reading your notebook."

a silence fell upon us, my mind reeling, trying to figure out what he was trying to say, from his emotionless face to the fact that he came.

"do you know how much it hurt? waking up to empty sheets and some half-assed note with the lamest excuses on earth?" i hadn't really paid mind to the tears rolling down my cheeks until he brought that up, sending me back to that morning, quickly scribbling out some gibberish before leaving the best part of my life behind.

"i was going to wait another month, y'know. to see if you were still gonna come here every day."

"so why didn't you?" i asked, sniffling intensely, trying to calm down my sobs.

"luke said i was absolutely miserable without you. coach told me i wasn't focused. my teammates pointed out that i barely left my apartment. the icing on the cake was when my mom started asking if you would be coming over to the lakehouse this summer. i realized, as pathetic as it seems, that i can't live without you."

my attempts at stopping my crying were thrown out the window at that. i could probably fill the hudson river with the amount of tears i had shed over the past two months.

"how can i make it up to you. please, please let me make it up to you." i begged, fully facing him, my hands angrily playing with the sleeves of my shirt because if i didn't, i would be reaching out to the man in front of me.

"never pull that shit again." he bargained, looking me dead in the eyes for the first time in months. and in that moment, i saw just how bad he was doing. sunken eyes with heavy bags, his skin dull, hair slightly unkempt under his hat.

"never again." i promised, putting out my pinky to him, something he would always do when he promised me to not get hurt in games. he let out a hoarse laugh, looking away from me, and when he looked back, i saw the tears brewing in his eyes. he took my pinky in his and held it there, between us.

"now, i'm not gonna just take you right back after all that. that was really shitty and i need some time to get over that. but, as i've found out, i can't really function without you. so maybe you could start with coming to my games again, and i could take you out for coffee next week."

"sounds perfect."

i accepted my life as an editor for the local newspaper, accepted that i probably wouldn't write another page-turning sell-out book, accepted that i was completely content with whatever happened to me, so long as jack was there with me.

and with that, my self-destructive, soul-crushing, heart-breaking tendencies reached their end.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #new jersey devils #fanfic

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

Text

Heads Carolina, Tails California - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I was listening to country music and was inspired, now I have a Hangman fic on my hands. Sorry y'all.

pairing: Lt. Jake Seresin x reader

warnings/content: none other than jake being a flirt and drunkenly singing country music.

word count: 2k

The beach was quiet for a weekend afternoon, a rare occurrence that you opted to take advantage of today. You and your friends couldn’t think of anything better to do today than spend a lazy day on the sand by the waterfront, taking in the bright Californian sun and the warm breeze. You laid out on your beach towel on the sand, the scent of your sunscreen and saltwater surrounding you, sunglasses perched on your face, you squinted up at the sun before shutting your eyes, taking in the day.

“Oh my god, look at that.”

You sat up, your eyes following to where your friend Stephanie was unashamedly pointing to. You almost admonished her for pointing like a schoolgirl until you saw what she was gesturing to. Tall, handsome, shirtless men had suddenly overtaken a spot on the beach just a few yards down from you, tossing a coloured football around between them.

“Steph…you know who they are, right?”, you heard your friend Courtney ask almost in disbelief.

“Navy men!” They practically squealed together.

“Guys, they might not necessarily be in the Navy, civilians come here too, I mean, we’re not in the Navy,” you pointed out, knowing that neither of them would likely listen to your reasoning.

“Please, men looking that good? If they’re not in the Navy, then they’re a group of Coppertone models,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly.

“I call dibs on the tall one with the mustache, he looks like he’s down for a good time, you know? Plus, those denim shorts aren’t hiding much,” Courtney smirked as her gaze narrowed in on the man in question. She went instantly into flirt mode, trying her best to impress from where she was seated. Suddenly, the man lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at her, before calling over.

“Hey pretty girl, do you wanna come play football? We’re down a guy and I could use an extra set of hands on my side!” His voice was as smooth as velvet as he spoke, and his million dollar smile that followed his words was enough to make you all swoon. Before he’d even finished his sentence, Courtney was making her way over to him, grinning back at the two of you before introducing herself to him and joining his team for this impromptu beach football game that was unfolding.

“Some people get all the luck,” Stephanie grumbled and huffed as she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Almost instantly though, her pout dissolved as she spotted a younger looking man, wearing a yellow t-shirt and workout shorts, sporting glasses with his blonde hair combed into a military approved cut.

“Oh…I like this one,” She nodded.

“Steph, come on, you can’t just pick them out like a goldfish at the pet store,” you chided as you checked your manicure, giving it a once over before looking back out at the football game.

“You know…I think I’m gonna go see if they need a cheerleader.”

Before you could even respond, Stephanie had gathered her things in her tote bag and taken off to go sit and watch the game up close, giving flirtatious little waves to the solely shirted member of the game, his cheeks flushing red as he waved back to her with a smile on his face.

“So much for a girls day…” you sighed as you rolled your eyes.

Just as you were settling back onto your towel on the sand, trying to focus all of your attention on relaxing and your tan, you heard the opening notes of a familiar song trailing from the football game. This time, you look up and notice a blonde man with a muscular physique, hands on his hips and raybans over his eyes as he yells at his friends.

“This is a great song! How could you not like ‘Heads Carolina, Tails California?’”

You smirked and laughed to yourself as you heard the chorus of the song, followed by someone, presumably Blondie, singing along in a deep, off-key baritone.

“Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer, up in the mountains, down by the ocean-”

You heard Courtney mention your name to her new male friend, and when you looked up, she shot you a grin, trying to intice you to come over. She knew you loved this song, country music was your weakness, having grown up in Tennessee. You sighed and rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses before standing up. You had to admit, if for nothing else, poor Blondie looked like he was two beers deep into a country playlist on Spotify that wasn’t going to end well for him.

“I heard my song.” You said with a smirk as you looked at Courtney.

“Bradley was just saying how this is also his friend’s favourite song.”

“Hi,” You responded as you pointed towards Blondie, who was still having a karaoke moment solo, as if either desperately trying to convince his buddies it was a great song or as if he was trying to forget the fact he was being humbled in football.

“Where it don’t matter, long as we’re goin somewhere together–”

“I’ve got a quarter, heads Carolina, tails California”

You harmonized with him as best as you could, your voices melodically flowing together to create something that sort of resembled the original song. Blondie turned and flashed you a blindingly bright smile. His teeth were flawlessly perfect, much like the rest of him. He flipped his sunglasses to the top of his head, his seafoam green eyes locking on you as he raised an eyebrow, as if impressed or surprised (or both) at the fact that you knew the words and joined in with him.

“I’m Jake,” He said, extending his tanned, muscular arm in your direction to offer you his hand.

You nodded your head as you shook his hand and gave him your name, a soft laugh escaping your parted lips, “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone sing Heads Carolina like that since I was a kid. It was my mom’s favourite song when I was little.”

“Hey, mine too!” Jake laughed as he shook a hand through his short blonde hair, “I’m just glad someone recognized the song. None of these idiots did,” He frowned before muttering something about them not being from the South under his breath.

“Maybe I know it because I’m from Tennessee,” you helped.

“That might be it, you know. I’m a Texas boy myself,” he nodded, “Austin, born and raised.”

“Chattanooga, not exactly the country music capital but close enough,” You nod.

Jake smiled and shook his head, looking almost bewildered at the fact he’d met a girl from the South in California. He reached into the cooler that he and his friends had brought, grabbing himself another drink. He looked up at you from his crouching position at the cooler.

“Can I get you anything, sugar? We’ve mostly just got beer, but there might be the odd vodka soda hiding in here, and we have just regular sodas and waters in there too, our buddy Baby-on-Board over there doesn’t drink much, so we make sure we have stuff for him too,” He nods, pointing towards the shirt-wearing guy that Stephanie currently was giggling with, her hands resting on his shoulder as she talks to him, completely oblivious to anything around her.

“Uh, beer, thanks…sorry, did you just say his name is Baby-on-Board?” You raised an eyebrow, praying it was a nickname.

“Yeah, uh, wait, I’ll explain. So we’re all Naval aviators, and we all have callsigns for when we’re in the air. Robert over there told us his is Bob but never told us what it stood for, so, I just filled in the blanks. I think it’s just a nickname for Robert and he didn’t come up with anything better for a callsign, but this is more fun.”

“So what’s your callsign then?”

“Hangman,” he says proudly as he stands up to hand you your beer and smiles, his chest puffing slightly as he speaks. “Bradley over there is Rooster.”

“Why Hangman?”

“Well, I’m the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed kill,” He nods, his voice full of pride, ignoring the groans from his friends.

“That’s not why and you know it, Jake!” one of them shouts.

“I am though, I’m the only one.”

“Well,” a dark haired brunette woman in a sports bra and athletic shorts spoke this time, smirking as she looked at Jake, “That is technically true, but you’ve left out a few details though. You’re Hangman because you always leave us hanging out to dry.”

“Hey, I just fly fast, not my fault if you can’t keep up, Phoenix,” he retorts dryly with a smirk before sipping his beer.

Jake sets his drink down on the cooler and picks up his phone, selecting another song on his seemingly never-ending playlist. He finally settled on something, smirking as he set it down beside his drink before heading out to play in the next round of football. He gestured for you to follow him, a wide grin plastered on his gorgeous features.

“You coming along? I need a good runningback for this one.”

You hesitantly took a swig of your drink, the cold liquid hitting your throat as you gulped it down. You adjusted your ponytail and nodded as you kicked off your sandals and headed after him, laughing as you shook your head.

“I’m not much of a football player,” you said, knowing his expectations of you probably weren’t high to begin with.

“That’s fine, I just need you to run fast if you catch it, ok, sweets? I think you can do it.”

He gave you a reassuring smile as he placed his hand on your shoulder playfully before pointing to where he needed you to stand. As the acting quarterback, Jake threw a perfect spiral towards a teammate, and you took off running to be in the game. The teammate passed it back to Jake, who, surprisingly, tossed it to you. You caught it, and without even thinking twice, you ran as fast as your legs would allow, ducking hands and tackles left right and centre as you made it to the makeshift goal post. The others whistled and cheered in surprise and you looked over to see Jake grinning proudly at his newest draft pick as he came jogging over to you.

“Jesus, where’d you learn to run like that? I don’t think I could even keep up.”

“I, uh,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as you spoke, “I played on my school’s lacrosse team when I was in high school, so I guess there? I haven’t played in a decade though. And football, I mean, I only ever played with my brothers for fun, never on a team or anything.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to get your number now so I can call you when we decide to play again, because I’m pretty sure you’ve just outplayed all of us.”

“Is that so?” You cocked an eyebrow up at him as you smirked, your hands resting on your hips, just above the waistline of your short denim shorts.

“Honestly, I’m both impressed and a little intimidated, and I’ve never been known to be intimidated by a woman before, it’s kind of hot though…” his voice trails off, as if the last part of his sentence wasn’t initially supposed to be an outside thought.

“Hot?” You teased, raising an eyebrow, “Did you just call me hot?”

“I guess I did, yeah,” He smirked as he handed you his phone, your fingers brushing against each other as you took it from him.

Typing your number in, you grinned as you handed it back to him, nodding your head as you grabbed your bag and stepped back into your sandals.

“I should really get going, but I guess you’ll text me later?” You smirked as you stopped to look at him one last time before heading out with your friends.

“You can count on it, babe.”

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eternalsams · 8 months

Text

Love is All ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x fem!reader

summary: during your first night out after the Uranium mission, you all decide to play a game to know each other a bit better and some things are hard to believe.

content/warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. There's references to one of my favorite movies, can you catch them?

masterlist

The mission was a success and when everybody was cleared off the medical check, you all decided to enjoy a night out at the Hard Deck and let your captain pay a round of drinks. Except for the first night when you all met and the day at the beach for dogfight football, you didn’t really have the time to chat and really know each other. It was Hangman’s idea, of course, but none of you complained about free drinks and a fun night out. As Coyote's WSO, you already knew Javy and Jake pretty good and heard about Rooster and Phoenix from when Hangman would tell you his Top Gun stories. But you were glad you could finally put faces to the names. You were one of the youngest among Fanboy and Phoenix. To your biggest surprise, Bob wasn't as young as he seemed to be but he still kept a young soul, getting along with the youngest but also the oldest of the team.

When you passed the Hard Deck's doors, penny welcomed you all with a bright smile and a couple of applause. She was followed in her applause by a few patrons who recognized you and heard about your exploits. None of you really paid them any attention and Rooster and Phoenix stayed at the bar to take all the orders while the rest of you gathered around a pool table for a game or two. You mostly stayed with Hangman and Coyote, sometimes chuckling at something Fanboy said, making them understand where your callsign came from. Lieutenant Y/N 'Giggles' Y/L/N. You got it in flight school when you inadvertently giggled during class at an awkward silence. It stuck.

The night went on, all of you learning to know each other. Some funny anecdotes shared and embarrassingly told later, Hangman proposed -as the very mature man he was- to play truth or dare. You all drank a little bit and the alcohol in your systems made you all agree with his high-schooler idea. You grabbed the bottles of beer that were still not emptied and followed Hangman on the beach. You all sat legs crossed onto the sand and that's when you noticed that Coyote kept an empty bottle to use as a pointer. He spined the bottle and the bottleneck pointed at Bob. Hangman's face lightened up and he looked up at the blue-eyed WSO with a devilish smirk. "Truth or Dare, Baby On Board?" He asked. You could see Bob gulp silently and think about what he was about to choose. He could almost feel the fresh Californian air hitting his bare torso if he ever said Dare to Hangman. "Truth."

Hangman's smile faded only a bit, kind of disappointed that Bob didn't pick Dare, but he quickly found something to ask the blonde. "What's the most reckless thing you've ever done? On or out of base." The blonde pilot licked his lips wickedly and leaned back to rest his weight on his hands. Bob's face turned red and he looked away, his eyes catching the ocean waves a bit further on the beach. "I... I uhm got a girl on base one night." And with just that, howls and whistles were heard from all the boys. Phoenix and you simply laughed, surprised by Bob's confession. "Who was that girl?" Payback asked. "Hey! He picked Truth not truths." Phoenix quickly came to the rescue of her WSO. Payback raised his hands in surrender and Bob leaned over to spin the bottle.

You kept playing during the biggest part of the evening, some of your deepest and dirtiest secrets being revealed to your new friends. Some of you -Rooster and Coyote- were now wet from head to toes from going into the cold water of the ocean as a dare. Others -Phoenix, Hangman and Payback- were wasted with the amount of alcohol they consumed. Unfortunately you had to lick salt from Coyote's neck at one point, earning whistles from Hangman who snapped a picture on his phone for good measure he'd never forget this. Sadly for Bob, he now had to feel the fresh air of California when Rooster dared him to take off his shirt, he now had wrapped his arms around his bare chest, feeling self-conscious even when you and others complimented him to make him feel better about himself. Truth be told, he looked nothing like Rooster with his broad shoulders or like Hangman with his hugely developed pecs. But you wouldn't be lying if you said you didn't stare a bit too long when he took his shirt off to properly fold it next to him on the sand.

Fanboy was the only one left avoiding anything too embarrassing, he told you about his first time, he whispered dirty things in Phoenix's ears who opened her eyes wide open when he murmured those dirty words. He even drank a whole beer in one go. But nothing too embarrassing like kissing one of you or stripping out of his clothes. He finished his last dare and spined the bottle that ended up pointing at you. He kindly smiled up at you and licked his lips. "Truth or Dare, Y/N?" You chuckled and closed your eyes, wanting this game to finally end. "Truth." You could hear Hangman and Coyote sigh because they basically already knew everything about you. "Do you believe in love?" Mickey -as you learned he was called- asked you. You didn't really see the others' faces when he asked that because you kept looking at him but you could hear some laughs and some whispers at how 'lame' his question was. "I don't." You simply say and he frowned, not expecting this answer, he opened his mouth, ready to ask something else when Rooster's voice interrupted him. "Alright, I don't know what you wanted to know with this Fanboy but I think it shows that it's time we stop playing this immature game." He ended his sentence with a pointed look towards Hangman who was grinning, stopping himself from laughing out loud.

You and Fanboy were the only ones who stayed silent when you all helped cleaning up. You weren't really upset by Mickey's question or anything, just tired. But Fanboy was deep in his thoughts, how could you not believe in love? It was simply impossible for him to imagine not believing in love. You all joined the bar and noticed all customers were gone and that Penny was cleaning everything. You all helped her even if she insisted you didn't have to. Payback was the first one to leave, and then Phoenix. And at the end, only you and Fanboy were still helping Penny moping the floor and cleaning the counters while she was taking inventory. The silence was only disrupted by the sound of the waves and the crickets outside. That until Fanboy stopped moping and turned to you. "How can you not believe in love?"

You chuckled and kept cleaning the counter. "I just don't. Is it that hard to believe?" You looked up at him and smiled, shrugging to show him it didn't bother you that much. "It is! I mean... What do you mean by Love? You've never been in love before?" He rested his chin on the back of his hands that were themselves resting on top of the mop handle. "I have been in love. I'm still human, Fanboy. I just don't believe in love with a capital L. I don't think we're destined to find some kind of soulmates that will forever be by our side. I think that's bullshit." Your answer left Fanboy speechless and when you were done with the counter, you rinsed the sponge you were using and dried your hands before grabbing your stuff. "Here's a question for you, Mickey. Why do you believe in love?" You chuckled as you walked by him, intending on leaving him finish moping alone. But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Above all things, I believe in love." He said and you turned to him, feeling he would say more. "A life without love isn't worth to be lived. And I'm not talking about parental love because that's a whole different thing but romantic love, love with a capital L, is real. Believe me." He rested the mop against a table and got closer to you. "My mom always tells me that when you find your true love, you feel it. Not in your heart like everyone might think, but in your stomach. Being away from them makes you sick, thinking of a life without them makes you sick. That's when you know you found your true love." He stopped getting closer when only a couple of feet separated you. "Have you ever felt sick?" You asked curiously. "I thought so, once. But I had only eaten something bad." He smiled, showing his pearly whites. You giggled, looking away from him not to fall for his pretty smile. Because he did have a very pretty smile. "Love is a many-splendored thing, you know? It's not always about being a sap, or cheesy. Nor as passionate as Hangman tries to make it appear." He chuckled as he tried to catch your eyes. "It can hurt, I agree. But it makes us feel alive. Love lifts us up where we belong." One of his hands tentatively grabbed yours and made you look back at him. "And where do I belong?" You took a step closer to him, linking your fingers to his. "Up there in the sky, where the eagles fly." You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling once more. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize it rhymes." He chuckled as he closed his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed by how cheesy he sounded. "That was pretty smooth, I have to admit." You said and his eyes opened wide, staring at you in disbelief. You giggled once more and let go of his hand to grab his face and press your lips on his cheek. "I may not yet believe in love with a capital L, but I do believe in a dinner at yours. Let's say Friday, at 7?" You cocked your head to the side and watched him coming back to his senses. "That was really smooth too." He softly smiled and nodded, already wondering what he was gonna cook for you on Friday night.

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