#billy doesn’t let danny live it down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fantasylandbitch · 5 months

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Summary: While Sam lets everyone know it's time for bed she seeks you out in the bathroom wanting to know where you’d like to sleep that night not knowing that you’re in danger. The next day you find yourself being looked after by Tara, Mindy, and Ethan will he take his opportunity to take you and the girls out?

Warning: Long Chapter, Hallucinations, 18+ A Little Spicy 18+, Cussing, Wild Mean Billy Appears, and Super Creepy Ethan.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 (Chapter 9 Coming Soon)

In your frozen state, you try to rationalize how Ghost Face can be in the bathroom with you because you can’t imagine that Sam and the others would have seen him climb through either the window or walk through the front door and not bat an eye at him. But as you stand in front of the mirror trying to rationalize his point of entry, you watch him step out of the shower one foot after the other. But as you stop thinking and start being present in your body you run for the door not even looking back to see how close he is to you in the bathroom. When your hand reaches for the door you find yourself fumbling with the door handle trying to lock and unlock it but it isn’t budging, you start to feel Ghost Face’s presence behind you making your skin crawl and your muscles tense up.

On the other side of the door, Sam can hear you struggling with the door handle, and at first, she was going to chuckle to herself almost finding it funny if it weren’t for how fast the door handle was moving, so she walked up to the bathroom door quickly. “Y/n are you okay?” she asks you through the bathroom door in a tone that is similar to a yell but is low like a whisper. But you don’t respond to her question so Sam starts to get worried while trying to keep her cool, trying not to alarm her family in the living room.

Then Mindy walks by the hallway to get a drink of water when she catches Sam playing with the bathroom door handle.“Everything okay Sam?” Mindy asks her, seeing how Sam looks like she’s almost struggling with the door handle or perhaps pulling a prank on you which she believes is highly unlikely.

As calmly as possible Sam looks over at Mindy and nods at her “Yeah sort of….I-I think Y/n is stuck in the bathroom” she says to her with a distressed look on her face a little similar to when Tara wouldn’t respond to her texts on her whereabouts.

“Oh…OH shit okay” Mindy says to Sam realizing it’s a bit urgent before she quickly walks over to Danny’s bedroom “Hey boy next door. Sam needs your help with the bathroom it’s not opening,” she says as Danny looks up from his bed with a look of concern before getting up to walk over to the bathroom.

“Sam, Samantha what’s wrong?” Danny asks Sam while walking down the hallway but Sam isn’t paying attention to him at the moment because she’s worried about you and he can see that now as he gets closer. He can tell that Sam is worried about what you might be thinking after suffering a traumatic event the other day so he turns around to quickly get his small tool kit from his bedroom so that you can get out and so that Sam doesn’t work herself into a nightmare late at night.

While in the bathroom you eventually turn your back on the door, now sweating and looking at Ghost Face as he takes a step forward and you can feel your heart beating in your ears all the while your breath picks up. You’re starting to think that this is the end for you as you stare back at Ghost Face knowing that you are currently in no condition to be fighting until you remember that he disappeared in the dark in your dream. The thought makes you look death straight in the face before looking at the corner of the mirror and the light switch near the sink. Then you ran over to turn the lights off and before Ghost Face could stab you it was lights out. It’s dark and you are breathing more heavily now, you don’t seem to hear any movement from Ghost Face who was in the bathroom with you a moment ago but that doesn’t mean your fear has lessened. Amid your fearful state, you eventually attempt to pull yourself up from the ground but a sharp pain runs up the left side of your stomach which prevents you from getting up fully. “Damn it,” you say to yourself feeling frustrated that you're unable to pick yourself up until you stop to the sound of the doorknob dropping onto the bathroom floor and then Sam shoving the door open.

“Y/n are you alright?” Sam asks you as she looks around the bathroom for the light switch before spotting it while she snakes her right arm around your waist and then with her left-hand reaches up to switch the light on.

“Yeah I’m fine just panicked a little that's all,” you say to Sam trying to brush off your feelings as she helps you up so that she doesn’t have to worry even though your voice came out shaky and a little aggravated when you went to look up at her in the now-lit bathroom.

All Sam could do was nod in your direction before pulling you closer to her body with her left arm to fully embrace you. Then turning her head she looked over at Danny who was gathering what little tools he used for the door “Sorry about your bathroom door Danny” Sam apologized to her confidant and best friend.

Danny looks up from packing his tools and then smiles at Sam and you, fully accepting his role in Sam’s life before saying “Don’t be I don’t own the apartment. I would be sorry however about not having privacy anymore” he says with a big smile making Sam chuckle a little before packing up the doorknob and making his way back to his room.

But Sam knows when her thoughts bring her back to focus on you. Sam knows better, she knows you didn’t ‘panic a little’ because she heard how your voice was. She saw how frantic you shook the doorknob like you were trying to run away from something and god would she have done anything to get to you quicker as she began to hug you.

“Are you okay?” you ask Sam as you pull away from her to scan her features while seeing those beautiful brows of hers furrow together with worry as her eyes look back at your own. But Sam didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned her face down to kiss you before taking her tongue and dragging it up your lips catching you off guard.

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you feel the texture of Sam’s tongue instead of her lips making you lean back to get a good look at her. You watch as Sam starts to smile, you two stay close to each other until you both hear Mindy walking down the hallway while calling your name, and as her footsteps drew closer you and Sam separated from each other.

“Hey Y/n, are you okay?” Mindy asks as she stops to look into the bathroom to see you taking a deep breath before looking over at Sam who had lifted herself up to sit on the bathroom counter making Mindy briefly look down at her water before looking at you.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine. I just-...panicked because the door wouldn’t open but I’m fine now. Thanks for asking.” You say nodding at her as Mindy smiles at you before looking over at Sam and then back at you again as a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Yeah, no problem. If you need a chaperone to the bathroom you know who to call” Mindy jokes causing you to laugh as you held your side while she watched Sam from the corner of her eye smile at your joyful face before walking back to the living room.

After Mindy left and your laughter died down you wiped your eyes before looking over at Sam as you tried to calm down “So” you start as you take a breath “What was the purpose of teasing me? Because that was rude” you told Sam.

“That was for teasing me the other night,” she says smiling at you, giving you a nod before looking at her hands as her smile sort of dropped.

“What?” you questioned “I don’t remember teaseing you the other day” you falsely admitted as you watched Sam’s brows furrow together while looking at her hands still as you walk up to the sink standing between her legs. “Unless you mean…when I did this to you?” you questioned her before sliding your hands over Sam’s jeaned thighs and sliding her closer to the edge of the bathroom counter, biting your lip a little as you did so. Sam let out a shaky breath as you slid her closer to yourself making her clasp her hands over yours. With a smile pulling at your lips there is a small voice at the back of your head telling you something. ‘It’s a little too soon to be this bold around her don’t you think? You don’t want to look desperate for her, do you?’ it says trying to upset you.

The voice almost wins as it makes you hesitate for a second before you follow through. You look up only to find Sam staring at you with a sultry gaze, a look you never thought you would ever find yourself getting from the taller brunette as the voice in your head disappears. Sam is looking down at you not only with a lustful gaze that would have you slowly undressing in front of her if Ghost Face wasn’t on the loose but with something much darker looking back at you on the surface of her pupils. Whatever it is it certainly looks back into your own and it has you in a trance.

Sam looks into your eyes and sees desire and love all at the same time but she can also sense something in your pupils as well. Because much like her own, the dark figure looking out the windows of her soul she can see a figure hiding in the far back of yours. It seems shy or maybe it’s still manifesting or perhaps it just isn’t ready to show itself yet but it certainly dares itself to look up, making Sam a little wanderlust as she slowly leans her head down. However, before Sam could capture your lips her gaze quickly moves to the hallway like a predator sensing danger as she sees something move behind the wall in the living room before closing the bathroom door with her foot.

After the door is shut Sam finds herself in a heated kiss with you except this time it's in Danny’s apartment where you are safe in her care and she has you all to herself. Sam slowly removes her hands from your own and then runs her fingers through your hair massaging your scalp before pulling your face closer to hers as she kisses you feverishly eventually getting off the counter and backing you into the wall. You let out a light whine making Sam stop for a second before you shook your head pulling her body closer into your own and saying in between kisses “I’m fine.”

Then you stretch your hand to retrieve a rag from the towel rack as Sam starts turning your back to the counter as she kisses down your jawline lightly pulling your waist into her body again. The action makes you giggle as you stuff the hole where the doorknob used to be for what little privacy you both can get before you get up on the bathroom counter where you start to feel Sam kissing down your neck. She makes you moan lightly the sound reaching her ears as you wrap your right leg around her backside, keeping her close, your right hand carding through her hair while your left hand roams her back as you stay upright. She can’t help but kiss your neck and then your shoulder more aggressively as she closes her eyes in her attempt to refrain from wanting to desperately mark you as hers to let Ethan know who you belong to in this mess of hers with Ghost Face.

Because Sam had noticed before all of this. Before Ghost Face decided to rear his ugly head. Before she saw you differently as you softly broke down her walls turning them slowly but quietly into barriers for her to use. For Sam, it was one thing to notice that you weren’t necessarily a threat to her and her family but it was most certainly another thing that after meeting you once that the next time she saw you, Ethan and Quinn were seemingly all over you. Like moths to a flame. Sam couldn’t care less about Quinn coming on to you because Quinn is a gleefully hedonistic person, looking to experience and enjoy herself as much as she can while you on the other hand seems more like someone who values knowing the deeper aspects of a person and therefore more reserved to which Sam knows first hand. She knows Quinn would be quite overwhelming for someone like you.

But when Ethan would talk to you, she would notice. She would notice how awkward he is around you but can still talk to you in small doses while his eyes would sometimes linger a little too long at your e/c ones or your lips on occasion. She remembers trying to engage you in an innocent conversation about what you would like from Dunkin and caught him staring for too long at your lips or how he watched your eyes as he flexed what little muscles he gained at the gym to try to swoon you. But Sam saw you, she saw that you would look away from him because prolonged eye contact made you uncomfortable or how you would innocently lift up the sleeve of your t-shirt to compare your gains and not bat a single eye at his muscles, but on the off chance that you did, she would know it was out of admiration, not interest.

“Ah, Sam fuc-” were the words that fell out of your mouth, pulling Sam from her thoughts as she realized that while ruminating her right hand traveled to your inner thigh rubbing your pussy through your pants with her middle and ring finger while her left hand stayed on your left thigh playing with the fabric. Sam felt like she was being overly possessive as she peered at you, she kept rubbing and hearing the muffled lewd sounds that dripped from your lips as you buried your face in her shoulder. As much as Sam wanted to take you right there in the bathroom this wasn’t how she wanted your first time with her to be, no, she wanted you in her room healed up and screaming her name as she whispered sweet praises into your ear from how well you're taking her.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart but now isn’t the time to be caught with your pants down” Sam heard a familiar deep voice as she instinctively bit into your shoulder causing you to groan before she opened her eyes to look at the mirror. There standing in the mirror was him, her father, Billy Loomis.

Sam at first tries to pay him no mind as she removes her hands from your thighs and crotch before placing them at your sides so she can lean the side of her face against yours feeling the heated skin that she created. Then she heard you starting to laugh against her.

“Why’d you stop?” you whined softly into her ear as you tried to cool down and catch your breath, you felt Sam’s skin rubbing against your own as your brain slowly caught on to the question you asked her.

“It’s because of Ghos-” Sam started before you interrupted her, feeling your face move against hers as she saw you nod while your noses touched before she looked into your eyes like you two were the only people in the apartment. For a moment she feels at ease knowing that you haven’t been able to recall what you went through the night before because she can still hear your screams from the video he sent her, how your voice echoed with pain because you were wounded, and how the utter regret reverberated in her ears a reminder of the last conversation you shared with her. Sam hates that when someone she loves or she’s involved with in some way gets hurt by Ghost Face, she immediately blames herself. The thought brings up the old feelings of her wanting to run away from what's good for her and it almost makes her want to retreat into herself but you stop her.

If this was any other day you would know to give her time before you ask if she was hungry or if she needed extra time alone or ask her to text you when she was ready but this was different. You can tell she is starting to fall into the pool of lies you can only imagine what Sam tells herself the morning she wakes up and the moment she goes to sleep. With your hands you reach for Sam’s face “Look at me” you tell her as she looks up at you just an inch her hair falling just a little bit into her face “You are not your thoughts” you voice, as you move her hair out of the way and behind her ear. “You are not the lies that the media portray you as,” you say to her as you rub her cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs as you stare at her lips “And..” you trail off trying to find your next words.

Sam watches you as she feels the pads of your thumbs gently touch the skin of her cheekbones rubbing them still in your distracted state as she can’t help but look at your eyes and then at your perfect lips.

“You are Samantha first,” you say to her in a whisper hoping she doesn’t see how stupid in love you are with her before you feel Sam lean in to give you a slow and deep kiss similar to when she first kissed you outside by your car earlier. Then you feel her hands cup your jawline her thumbs placed just before your ears as she leans more into your body just a tad making you clasp your hands over hers as you both love each other in silence.

“To think the homos of today would be this dramatic” Sam hears her father’s voice in the background and she can’t help but spite him by kissing you just a little bit longer than she planned to but it wasn’t like you were complaining. She could tell that you were addicted to her because every time she wanted to pull away your lips were pursuing hers like she would disappear. The thought made her heart ache just a little before you slowly pulled your lips away from her own and she almost gave in to you, your lips, she wanted to chase your lips but instead, her lips hovered over your own.

“Where do you want to sleep tonight?” Sam asked you in a whisper as her lips continued to hover over the pillows of your own having a craving for them but with her father’s presence in the background she felt a bit mad and a little vulnerable. But she doesn’t want to tell you about her feelings just yet because as much as she cares for you she isn’t ready to tell you about her father.

‘Your bed’ you thought to yourself feeling a little drunk from kissing Sam before you removed your hands from hers and got off the counter with her help. Then you smiled up at her as you started to rub her stomach with your hand eventually getting lost underneath her shirt “If it's okay with you can I take the couch? Because I think I might have trouble getting off the floor” you asked Sam.

She shivers at your fingertips lightly touching her stomach and then slowly nods “You don’t need to ask but that would also make sense for you because of your….” she trailed off as she looked down at your left side. “I’ll see you in the living room,” Sam says to you smiling before kissing your forehead making you lean into her lips, closing your eyes in the process, and then Sam watched as you opened the door to leave. She takes a deep breath feeling a little lightheaded from kissing you as she smiles to herself alone before she hears her father clear his throat making her clench her teeth.

“Sam I think you need to start getting your head right,” Billy says annoyed that his daughter is so in love at the moment before seeing her walk over to the mirror with a scowl. “Don’t look at me like that, if you want to protect your new toy and your family you're going to have to think straight if you can even do that.”

Sam scoffed at the mirror “Y/N IS NOT….a toy” Sam says lowering her voice just in case her family is asleep and that you don’t go looking for her in the bathroom. She sighs thinking about everything that has happened so far between Ghost Face attacking her and her sister at the bodega, the attack at the apartment almost losing Anika, almost losing Gale, and nearly losing you right after. Sam rubs her face in frustration before placing her hands on the counter thinking something is amiss like a word that is at the tip of her tongue or a phrase but neither is coming to the surface.

Billy notices this. He notices his daughter’s thoughts and it gets him thinking as he looks down at her zeroing in on her skull then it dawns on him at the same time as Sam causing her to look up. “That's right Sam use that brain of yours,” he says as he starts to nod a smirk slowly developing across his face “Based on your conversation with Y/n…really think about who the killer might be in your group and then…Take.Them.Out” and the moment he said those three words Sam gave Billy a stare half of it was her being a Loomis determined to kill and the other the Sam you told her to put first.

Then Sam walks out of the bathroom, turns off the lights, and then walks down the hallway to the living room fixing her top as she goes. As she gets closer to the living room she finds everyone sleeping in their usual spots. The boys Ethan and Chad are sleeping near the window, Mindy is sleeping at one end of the couch, Tara is sleeping not far from Mindy, and then you, the new addition to the couch, are sleeping. But before Sam could join you and her family in the living room Sam did her usual routine.

She made sure all of the windows were locked picking them up to make sure they wouldn’t open before walking over to the front door to make sure that the locks were secured enough that it wouldn’t open suddenly while everyone was asleep. After making sure everything was secured Sam finally enters the living room fully, hearing soft snores and slight hums of those asleep before finding the sweetest scene. There lay Tara and Mindy with their hands linked to your own as you lay comfortably across the couch your wounded side to the ceiling with your shirt slightly lifted from moving in your sleep and the sight made Sam get her phone so that she can take a photo of you three. Soon after, Sam puts her phone as well as your own on a charger before laying down next to her sister but not before she turns off the mini light near Mindy’s head “Goodnight guys” Sam says in a whisper making sure to kiss yours and Tara's foreheads before lights out.

The next morning you wake up to the sound of Babadook playing on the TV screen and along with it the sound of someone beginning to sit down in front of you. You had felt their hair tickle your face before it was quickly removed almost making you sneeze as you moved your hand to press the tip of your nose to prevent yourself from spreading germs. But you also got a whiff of something sweet and nutty with a hint of vanilla a subtle shampoo scent that you knew belonged to Tara. “Deranged women who worship the Baba that dooks. What possessed you to watch that movie in my presence?” you asked in an old raspy woman voice that made your best friend laugh so hard that you were afraid that she might just need her inhaler or worse a rush to the hospital.

But soon you hear Tara’s laugh slowly turn into giggles, a sound you haven’t heard in a while since your friendship started to dissolve the moment she first took a shot in front of you before you hear her take a deep breath in. “I wasn’t possessed to watch Babadook doofus, you should know that better than anyone,” Tara says to you as she adjusts her seating position on the floor in front of you before she asks you a question. “Y/n could you pass me two pillows?” before she heard you make a humming sound in agreement as your hand searched for the two pillows she asked for.

“Where is everyone by the way?” you asked Tara as you gave her one pillow for her to sit on while looking around the room when you spotted Ethan in the kitchen making a sandwich on the island. You watched how he was holding the kitchen knife cutting a tomato slow and deliberately and how something about the way he was cutting seemed oddly familiar to you causing you to furrow your bows in question. Then you found another pillow for Tara to lean her back on “Lean forward for me?” you asked Tara as you saw your best friend lean forward so you could place the pillow down behind her back. “I thought you would have gone with your sister considering…well everything you both are going through at the moment,” you say with careful consideration as you look at the back of Tara’s head before trying to get up from the couch without help.

“Well, Sam, Danny, and Chad went out to get food from the store leaving me, Mindy, and Ethan to watch over you. Here’s the sticky note…even though she could have just texted me” Tara says with a huff as you hum again before she turns around to give you the sticky note for evidence and for you to read yourself. Upon reading the note you find it to be a little odd considering that Ghost Face is a crafty bastard. But knowing that Danny has an apartment full of people residing in it, it would make sense that they would go out as a group to go shopping for food and to be extra safe.

You sigh after reading the sticky note that Tara gave you as you give yourself time to let the words settle before looking over at your best friend. “At least she left a note of her whereabouts Tara because communication is key plus she's not alone in going grocery shopping she has Chad and Danny with her like you said. We’re stronger in numbers you know” you tell her before you watch Tara release a heavy sigh and then get up to leave the room “Wait where are you going?” you ask.

“I’M GOING TO THE BATHROOM” Tara yelled back at you as she walked down the hallway “GOD MINDY” you hear Tara yell at Mindy through the bathroom door as you tried to refrain from laughing not wanting to rip your stitches open as you hear Mindy say something back to her but its muffled and you can clearly hear water running in the background.

While all of this is happening, you trying your best to refrain from laughing, Tara waiting to use the bathroom, and Mindy just taking a shower, you don’t notice that Ethan is staring at you from the island. He watches intently at how your body reacts to laughing and listens to the sounds of your laughter before his eyes catch the bite on your shoulder. With the knife in his hand, he cuts open a piece of bread next to him but he cuts it slowly so as to not draw attention to himself as he could only imagine how you got the bite mark the night before.

His grip on the knife tightens as he remembers how he watched you glide your hands slowly over Sam’s thighs pulling her closer to the edge of the counter and how the action left a smile on your face. ‘How bold of you’ he thought to himself as he licked his lips behind the wall and felt himself get a little hard at the sight of your hands and thinking of what you could possibly do to him. Then he saw how Sam looked down at you like a starved animal ready to consume, a feeling he knows all too well while looking at you sometimes until he hid behind the wall before coming back to reality when the knife cut his thumb.

Then he heard you get up slowly from the couch hearing you groan, making him look up at you before he quickly looked down at what he was doing. In his peripherals, he saw that you stopped to watch Tara probably enter the bathroom because he heard Mindy grant her access before he watched you from the corner of his eye enter the kitchen making him look up as he licked his thumb while checking you out.

When you walked into the kitchen you felt like someone was watching you so you turned to look and you saw Ethan looking down at the sandwich he was making so you gave him a quick look over. After that you walk around him to get the package of bread beside his arm and then a knife from the drawer behind him. But as you did so you felt yourself getting anxious so you tried to calm yourself down with some breathing exercises and took your time to walk over to your counter not far from him until you felt your skin crawl and your body start to tense up.

Behind you, Ethan takes a quiet step back from the island with the kitchen knife in his right hand as he studies your body, licking his lips as he quietly takes a step forward toward you. ‘It's too bad Y/n, we could have made a killer couple’ he thought to himself, a smile growing on his face as he got excited to try and hurt you for the second time, except this time.

This time he’s really going to stab you.

Ethan brings his right hand up ready to stab you in the back hoping to get the same fearful reaction from you like last time but he was so wrong. When he brought the knife down on you, you quickly turned around with a frightened expression on your face briefly before anger suddenly washed over you, becoming someone else in front of him. You brought your hand up to catch the wrist that holds the knife. Then you use your other hand holding the knife you were going to use for your breakfast, shoving it up and forward toward Ethan’s oblique but he caught your hand moving just in time to catch your right wrist with his left hand.

His eyes widened for a second before he smiled wildly in front of you because he didn’t realize how the file his overseer showed him pertaining to you was true and he loved how you had the look of a potential serial killer in your eyes. He was in love with the way you looked, angry and lustful to spill his blood. But as much as he loved the way you looked at him, he did take offense at your attempt to return the favor of trying to stab him back so he dropped the knife that he was holding in his right hand and reached down to grab your wrist. After doing so, he slides his left leg back throwing you to the floor behind him causing you to grunt in slight pain, and as you go to get up Ethan approaches you from behind to stab you with the knife that was already in your hand. A struggle ensues Ethan is pulling the knife in your hand and forcing it backward the blade aiming for your throat but he doesn’t get very far because you end up head-butting him causing the knife to nick the right side of your jawline.

Ethan staggers back onto the counter before watching you slowly get up from the ground even though he loves the sight in front of him, watching you as you stretch your back just a little bit before turning around to face him. He doesn’t anticipate you throwing the knife at his crotch causing him to hop onto the counter at the last second as he let out an evil chuckle, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘I love it when my prey wants to play with me. If only you can play with me in other ways Y/n’ Ethan thought to himself. That was his mistake because when he opened his eyes next, you had the kitchen knife in your hand and you sliced upward cutting part of his stomach and his chest causing him to slide off the counter. He hit the floor as he groaned in pain. You slowly turn to your right to face Ethan on the ground, tilting your head just a tad, your eyes and face devoid of any emotion as you watch him struggle to get up from the floor. You watch as Ethan reaches for the island, slowly pulling himself up, you give him a chance to taste a bit of hope before thinking about snuffing it out. When Ethan is on his two feet he turns around to face you and even though he has some height on you and strength he’s now concerned for his safety as you approach him.

“Y/n let's talk about this,” Ethan says with a shaky voice trying to break you out of your emotionless state but he can’t, your eyes were on him like a dog locked on their prey ready to tear them apart so it caught him by surprised once again when you lunged at him with the kitchen knife. You aimed for his chest but he caught your wrists before you could do any more damage to him so now you both struggle against one another's strength even though Ethan can see the knife getting closer to his chest. Unknowest to you however Ethan hears the sound of keys going into the door causing him to smile as he stalls for a moment trying to make work of his own strength against your own for a little while longer. Then as he heard the door open and saw Chad about to walk through the door, Ethan directs the knife in your hand to cut his right forearm before screaming and falling to the living room floor.

Ethan’s scream catches Chad’s attention as he looks up briefly to look at you not seeing the knife before pushing the door open “WHOAH WHOAH!” he says aloud as he runs into the apartment causing Sam to push past Danny to see what is happening putting the grocery bags down on the island before walking over to you.

“Y/N? What happened?” Sam asked you as she walked in front of the island trying to get your attention, then she caught sight of the kitchen knife in your hand before looking over at Ethan seeing blood on his chest and forearm. But the lacerations even though they were big, they weren't big enough for her to care at the moment as she heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

“What the fuck happened?” Mindy says standing at the entrance of the hallway fully clothed with Tara walking up beside her as both girls looked at the scene in front of them seeing Sam near you, Chad hunched over Ethan, and Danny near the couch with whatever medical supplies he had in the apartment.

“I wasn’t even in the bathroom for that long. What exactly happened while I was away?” Tara questions aloud before walking over to Sam with Mindy trailing behind her and as she got closer to her older sister she looked over to see Chad getting up before becoming confrontational.

“Chad wait!” Sam yells at Chad as she quickly walks in front of you to shield you while Tara and Mindy step in front of her to stop Chad in his tracks. The confrontation causes Sam to give Chad the sternest stare while you back up into the counter behind you, eyes focused on Ethan.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU Y/N?” Chad yells at you as he puffs up his chest stopping in his tracks near Tara and Mindy “First you hit him over the head at your apartment and now attempted murder?!” he spewed at you.

The accusation made Sam speak up “We don’t know that yet Chad now back off” Sam said sternly as she gave Danny a look to keep Chad at bay before turning her back to check on you but when she turned around she saw that you were backed up into the corner of the kitchen like a scared animal starting to tear up and visibly shaking in front of her. “Y/n, hand me the knife,” she asked you calmly as she slowly walked over to you with her hands up letting you know that she meant no harm to you but you shook your head as you stared at Ethan.

“Ethan. Explain yourself, what happened here?” Mindy asks him as she let her arms down for a minute before looking at her brother, briefly pointing at him, “Not a single word out of you” she says with an equally stern look occpanied by her stong voice.

“You can’t be serious!” he says exasperated as he slowly gets up from the floor with Chad’s help while looking at Mindy “I was making a sandwich on the island cutting up some vegetables and then after Tara left to go use the bathroom Y/n walked over to the counter to make herself a sandwich.” He says with tears in his eyes as he looks almost frightened “Then Y/n grabbed the bag of bread from the island and when I went to grab it back she tried to kill me” he says next as he wipes his eyes before staring at you causing Mindy to snap her fingers at him to focus on her.

After Ethan explained what he thought happened, Sam still kept her eyes on you not even looking back to acknowledge what Ethan was saying because she wanted to stay focused on you. You had gone through such a traumatic experience not that long ago and just like her little sister she wants to make sure that you are okay, even though her father's voice is telling her to keep you at arm's length when her heart is telling her to keep you close. But Sam shook her head before stepping into your view, blocking you from seeing Ethan as she watched your breathing go from erratic and slow to a calming breathing pace “That’s it Y/n, you’re doing great” she encouraged you in a whisper. Then Sam brought her hand slowly over your own that is holding the knife seeing as you grabbed the knife so tightly that your knuckles had turned white as she tried to further coax you out of letting the knife go. “Y/n, I need you to look at me. You are safe, now please let the knife go” Sam says to you in a low voice that causes you to look up at her brown orbs, and for a moment she sees you take a slow sigh of relief as you let go of the knife.

After Sam took the knife from you, you closed your eyes as soon as you felt Sam start to wipe the tears from your eyes before placing the knife on the side of the sink and wetting a napkin to use to clean the wound on your jawline. “Mmm,” you hummed in pain as you tried to move your face away from Sam’s hand before stopping yourself and sucking it up so that she can quickly clean up the blood on the side of your face. But at some point Sam stopped and then walked over to Danny’s junk drawer for a pack of band-aids so she could put one on you and when she did you looked away from her.

“What’s your story Y/n?” Sam asked you as she took the plastic wings off the sides of the bandaid that would stick to your skin as she gently placed the bandaid on your face before gently tapping the bandaid to make sure it was secured before asking you again “What happened while I was away?”

“I-” you started as your eyes started to drift to Ethan’s figure making Sam step into your view again and she watched as you took a deep breath while wringing your hands together “I don’t know. One moment I was in the kitchen trying to make a sandwich and the next..” You got quiet for a moment thinking about what had happened, something Sam took a mental note of as she saw the cogs in your head moving, watching your brows furrow in thought. “I was holding the kitchen knife and he was on the floor screaming,” you told Sam and she nodded at your answer before she noticed that you were staring at her eyes a little while longer.

From the look of your eyes, Sam could tell that you were leaving details out or at the very least trying to let her know that you did in fact remember something that happened to you two nights ago. Because Sam knows that you don’t like making eye contact for long periods of time with the exception of her and her family so she places her hands over your own in awareness. “Let’s talk somewhere privately after, okay?” Sam says to you at a volume that only you can hear before squeezing your hand.

You squeeze her hand back as a silent agreement before your hands part from one another. The lack of contact makes Sam take a deep breath as she turns around to walk into the living room until she catches a knife sticking out of one of the spare cabinets that Danny has. Sam quickly bent down to get the knife but she had to give it a few tugs before it came out so when she fully had the mini knife in her hand she looked at it before looking at Ethan. ‘What exactly did you do?’ She thought to herself before placing the knife down on the island before proceeding to walk into the living room making Tara and Mindy turn their heads eventually having a group conversation.

You on the other hand kept your distance from your friends who occupied the living room except for Danny as he made his way over to the kitchen in front of you. “I’m sorry about the cabinet Danny” you apologize to him in a soft voice but he just shakes his head before clearing his throat.

“As long as you are safe like everyone else..minus perhaps um that Ethan boy behind me” he says the last part in a whisper trying to lighten the mood for you before nodding his head gently with a smile “I wouldn’t worry about the cabinet door Y/n.” He reassures you before picking up the mini knife, bringing it over to the sink and then gently nudging you with his shoulder making you smile before cleaning some dishes.

Then you catch something moving to the right of your peripherals making you look past Danny and near the front door. Your eyes widen at the sight, your mouth agape.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 (Chapter 9 Coming Soon)

Stay in my mentions: @daddy-jareau @lummaland @screechcat @stickydefenderpersona @actavias-next-meat-bite @werewolfbansheelove @fanboy7794 @grandpatrolnut @alphawolfstabs @rainbowmess823 @womenofmarvellover @inactivecabbage @msboucles

Scream 6 : A Love so Understanding Playlist

I want to thank a few people in my life who helped me with the knife scene. My dad for trying to show me how to defend myself against someone who has a knife and my little brother for being a weapon nut and choreographing the knife fight with me scene in our kitchen on Thanksgiving. I would also like to thank @alkivm and my older sister for helping me figure out how to reword and better describe the different values and personalities between Quinn and Y/n.

If anyone was offended in any way by the previous version of the paragraph I do apologize for it and that I take full responsibility it was never the intent to write that paragraph that way.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #san carpenter imagine #core four #a fantasylandbitch presents a story: scream6 #autistic!reader

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prettytoxix · 2 years

Text

Jealousy 🍂

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Pov: hes not a jerk

A/n: just imagine this if billy was not an a hole and was actually a decent human being. There’s just a lot on angst. Enjoy.

Summary: you and your boyfriend billy go to a Halloween party

Content: angst, fluff?

Word count: 1380

Billy insisted that we go to a party tonight. Something about how this kind of thing doesn’t happen very often But let’s be real, it’s high school…There’s a party every other weekend because someone's parents are always away on a trip.

He says this one is going to be different because it’s a Halloween party. I want to say “no,” I really do. But I can’t. Billy doesn’t ask for much so I feel like I owe it to him. What's the worst that could happen anyways? I told him I’d only go if he would do a couples costume with me though, to which he agreed surprisingly fast. I got him to dress up Danny Zuko from Grease, which was really easy because he already had everything for it. Black jeans, and a leather jacket. Easy. I’m going as Sandy, wearing a simple leather-type material jumpsuit.

After getting ready (it ended up taking over an hour because Billy couldn’t stay focused), we get into his Chevrolet and drive over to the party. On the way there we blast music from a CD that Billy keeps in his car. We drive by the house once before finding parking because of how packed it is. There are probably about 15 cars parked on the road and several more in the driveway. I can only imagine how many people are inside and I can already feel myself getting overwhelmed. I’ve never done too well with large groups. I start to twist and turn my rings from anxiety and Billy takes my hand in his own.

“Hey, relax. If anything starts to go south we’ll leave, alright?”

I take a deep breath and stop fidgeting with my rings. “Okay,” is all I can say.

We both get out of the car and Billy locks it behind us. On our way inside, Billy takes my hand into his and gently rubs circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.

Before we even get inside some of Billy’s friends pull him away to the backyard for some contest going on. I’m not overly interested in partaking in it so I head into the house where the music is overwhelmingly loud. There are so many people in there and it begins to feel too crowded. Maybe if I go to the bathroom for a minute I can calm myself down and try to enjoy the party. I walk up to the bathroom door and lift my hand up to knock but I can hear arguing inside.

“Bullshit! All of it!” “So it was all a lie?”

I don’t want to get involved, so I walk away. I think about it for a second and those voices sounded very familiar. Was that Steve and Nancy? It doesn’t matter. I move into the kitchen area to see if there’s anything to drink. On the island in the kitchen is a big punch bowl. I’m sure it’s spiked with some sort of alcohol but at this point, I don’t really care. I grab myself a cup and start to ladle the punch into it.

I stand kind of near where the punch was for about 10 minutes maybe just surveying the crowd. Seeing all the faces I recognized because of how small our town is. I take note of painting in the living room just trying to avoid socializing at any cost.

Steve approaches me, obviously drunk. He’s probably upset if he’s the one that was arguing in the bathroom. He grabs a cup, starts to fill it with punch, and looks me in the eyes.

“Do you wanna dance, Y/l/n?” His words slur together. I don’t have anything against Steve, but I know Billy would kill me if he saw me anywhere near Steve. Billy and Steve don’t have the best history.

“No thank you, why don’t you go ask someone else?” Steve puts his arm around my waist and I try to pull away but I can’t. I look around to see if anybody is seeing this and just then Billy walks in through the back door. We lock eyes and I plead for him to help. He furrows his brows together and rushes over, taking long strides. He makes it by my side quickly, abruptly pushing Steve away from me.

“What’s the matter with you, Harrington?!”

“I’m just trying to have a little fun, man.” Steve shoves him back. I tug at Billy’s arm.

“Can we just go?” I whisper into his ear. Billy grabs my hand and leads us out of the house.

“We’re not done, Harrington!” He snaps before leaving out the front entrance.

We walk to his car and Billy just stands outside not unlocking the car for a moment. Placing his hands on the top of the car and lights a cigarette.

“Can you believe that guy? Unbelievable. I’m going back in there.” He blows out a large puff of smoke.

“Billy, can we just drop it and go somewhere…do something else? Anything?”

“Y/n, he put his hands on you-”

“Are you jealous? Billy Hargrove is jealous of Steve Harrington? I don’t believe my eyes.”

“Me? Jealous?” he scoffs. “No…. No, I’m not jealous.” Now he’s just trying to convince himself of that fact.

“Whatever you say, Hargrove.” I chuckle. He unlocks the car reluctantly and I sit inside finally feeling myself relax a bit. I’m just glad that things didn’t end in a bad fight. Billy starts the car irritated.

“Hey, do you want me to drive? You know I don’t like it when you drive when you’re angry.” He steps out of the car without saying another word and trades spots with me. I sigh out loud knowing the conversation we’re about to have isn’t going to be my favorite.

“You know you don’t have to be jealous of Steve, right?”

“I’m not…” He mumbles under his breath.

“Billy, please look at me.” He looks up grudgingly and I search for anything in his eyes. Anything at all that says he’s telling the truth but all I can see is pain.

“Listen, I want to believe you, I do…” I turn the car off because this conversation obviously is going to take a minute. “but your body language and attitude are saying different.”

“Fine! Maybe I’m a little jealous of Harrington! Is that what you wanted to hear!” He throws his hands up defensively.

“I’m not trying to start a fight here! Don’t snap at me!” Billy slumps down in his seat and apologizes quietly. He’s had a bit too much to drink I can tell. “You know what, never mind. Let’s just forget any of this happened.”

I start the car and pull away from the house while Billy sulks in the passenger seat smoking. I drive around for a bit to relax my nerves before I finally park in an empty parking lot near his house. Billy suddenly breaks the silence between us.

“I’m jealous of Steve because he’s much more desirable than someone like…me… you deserve more than this mess that I am.” He gestures to himself.

“What do you mean by that? Steve isn’t as desirable as you think. I prefer you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Y/n, I’m just scared of losing you. And I’m scared that I’m going to put walls between us and shut you out like I do everyone else.”

“I’ll make sure that never happens.” I’m feeling so overwhelmed with everything that happened tonight that I can feel my cheeks start to heat up and a tear or two fall down them. Billy looks over and places his hand on my face and uses his thumb to wipe my tears away.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Billy tugs me close to him as we lean over the center console of his car while our lips embrace passionately and hungrily.

I have never found so much comfort in a person even after a fight.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurb #stranger things 4 #billy hargrove #Billy Hargrove fic #billy hargove x reader #billy stranger things #Billy Hargrove blurb #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove stranger things #dacre montgomery

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mistydear · 1 year

Text

soften me now, let me take as is given (xvii)

billie dean howard x reader

summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.

w/c: 3.1k

taglist: @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @strawberryshorttcakkee @max-the-d0g @mistysswampmud @angelxsarahp @billiedeanspearls @madamevirgo @cordithatgurl @mayfair-fleur @saucy-sapphic @whatfutureiamdead

chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen

notes: much love to my anons you helped with motivation to get through the delicate parts that lead up to the fun stuff

When you stand at Margot and Danny’s front door, you can feel your heart pounding. Andy squeezes your hand, hoping to steady you, and it doesn’t work, but you appreciate the gesture. A week before this, you had an extensive conversation with Margot about Andy, about the fact that you were dating now, about how you wanted her to meet Andy. You needed her approval. There were tears and hugs, and now there was a lump in your throat the size of California, heart pounding.

. . .

If there was one thing Andy was teaching you, it was how to accept miracles with easy, graceful reverence. Dinner was—to put a single word to it—normal. It was fun. They played cards against humanity and ate good food and laughed about things you haven’t laughed about in ages. You didn’t forget about Kate once, but it also didn’t make the night sad. Andy ran a hand down your back and smiled, and you smiled back, thinking Kate would be happy for you. Maybe you’re happy for you.

After dinner, when you were spending the night at Andy’s apartment, sweaty and naked on her bed, she asked you if you were happy.

“I think so,” you mumbled into her pillow. You aren’t sure, but you feel like this is what happiness means, or what it should mean. She kissed your shoulder. “Are you?”

“Very much.”

You thought very much might be too big of a stretch for you and chewed your lip. Andy was devoted to you, that much you knew. If you weren’t careful, she might love you some day.

. . .

“And then the strippers will show up and give everyone lap dances,” Norah says, and you blink, chewing absently at your knuckle.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, turning to look at Norah’s disbelieving face.

“Really? The strippers got you but not the tank of sharks or the motorcycle with the rings of fire?”

“What are we talking about?” you ask, furrowing your brow, shifting in your seat on Norah’s couch.

“My birthday party, you absolute dumbass.” Your eyes light with recognition.

“Is it that time of year already?”

“Shut up,” she laughs, chopping onions on her countertop. You let a smile spread across your face, easy and light. Norah’s birthday parties are stuff of legend, starting early and going all the way through to the next morning if you’re lucky. The music was reliably loud, the company reliably rowdy, and the drinks reliably plenty. You and Kate have been going for years. This will be the first one without her. “You should invite Billie,” she says with a forced nonchalance. “Now that you’re friends.”

“First of all, it’s your birthday party, not mine. Invite her yourself. Second of all, why is Billie your first thought and not Andy?” Norah’s chopping slows, but she doesn’t look up.

“Andy was a given, come on,” she says, glancing up then back down. “Besides, you would have agonized over inviting Billie for weeks, and I just don’t have time to deal with that. I have a party to plan.”

“So you’re saying Billie is a given too?” you ask, something churning inside you, not exactly unpleasant, but you can feel yourself warming, cheeks burning.

“Isn’t she?” Norah asks, looking you dead in the eye. You chew at your knuckle again, picking at your lip. Isn’t she?

. . .

You invite Billie to your apartment for the first time. The first time since she brought you home drunk on the anniversary of your wife’s death, maybe, but the first time sober. And you’re nervous, chest tight as you pretend to tidy up but are really just rearranging. Rearranging the pillows on your couch and the candles on your coffee table and the food in the kitchen until there’s a solid knock on your door. Feeling jittery and unprepared, you take a breath and adjust your shirt, striding to the front door in socks and jeans. When you open the door, Billie stands there in heels and slacks and a button down with her purse in her hands in front of her.

“Hi,” you breathe, and she blinks and smiles with a modest softness you don’t see that often from her.

“Hello.” You step back to let her in, and she slides past you, heels clicking in your entryway. “It smells good in here,” she comments, slipping off her jacket which you immediately offer to take, hands out wordlessly, maybe too eagerly. She hands it to you, warm from her body and smelling like her, rich and heady. You thumb it absently, fingers scraping across the seams as she glances around. “Is that curry?” she asks, stepping further into the apartment, and you move to follow before you realize you’re still holding her jacket.

“It’s Norah’s recipe. She’s the cook. I just steal her ideas,” you say, hanging up her jacket next to yours. Billie chuckles, setting her purse down on your front table. “Do you, um, want something to drink?” you offer, rubbing your hand across the back of your neck.

“What do you have?” she asks, trailing you to the kitchen. You can feel her eyes on you, soft brown but so sharp, and she doesn’t look away when you turn back to her.

“Water, wine, beer, rum, whiskey…” you trail off, and she steps toward your wine rack, manicured fingers trailing across a bottle of pinot. Wordlessly, she hands it to you, and you nod, grabbing it by the neck and digging around for a corkscrew. Your curry is simmering on the stove, rice waiting to be served, and as you pour out two glasses, Billie flips the seasoned chicken frying on the stove.

You haven’t cooked together since the morning after Billie slept over in your armchair. It feels like so long ago, and you feel so different with her now. It’s easier to be around her, absolutely, but you can’t help feeling like you’re teetering on the edge of something. You catch it in Billie’s eyes every once and a while, something dark and rich and tentative. Like she’s holding back. You wonder how many layers you’ll be allowed to peel away before Billie stops you. You hope she never stops you. The thought halts you, makes you hesitate when you watch Billie turn off the burner and move the frying pan off the heat. You and Billie have been through a lot together, leaning on each other when things got unbelievably hard and being there for each other’s worst moments. And still there’s something between you, some barrier you don’t know how to name, how to conceptualize, that makes everything just a little distant, a little awkward.

“Here,” you say, hoarse, holding out a glass for Billie. She takes it, her fingers brushing yours, nails scraping your skin. The hair on the back of your neck prickles. The smile she gives you is soft, barely there, and when she sips her wine, her eyes never leave yours. Red stains her pink lips, and your chest tightens. Feeling hot, you swallow and turn away from her to tend to the food.

The conversation turns easy after that. Billie complains about the interviews she’s constantly doing, complains about Lisa Cole’s moniker for her, how it follows her everywhere.

“Medium to the Stars,” she scoffs as the two of you sit down across from each other at your dining table.

“It’s catchy,” you shrug, chuckling, and she glares at you. “How’re those rumors going? Still circulating?”

“Which ones,” she drones, stabbing her fork into a piece of chicken. “How I’m the slut of Hollywood?”

“Yeah, that one,” you clarify, resting an elbow on the table, and Billie looks up at you, her expression something you can’t place.

“Dissipating,” she answers carefully. “Worried I’m keeping secrets?” she asks, something daring creeping into her tone. Your cheeks flush unexpectedly, and you shrug, chewing slowly.

“Just curious, I guess. You’re not good at volunteering information. It’s like pulling teeth with you,” you try to joke, and Billie’s eyes dart across you, fork hovering in the air as if she’s assessing your truthfulness.

“I’m not seeing anyone if that’s what you’re wondering,” she answers, and the air prickles between you. Were you wondering? You chew your lip. Yeah, you were. “How’re things with Andy?” You take a breath, sitting up straighter.

“Fine,” you shrug.

“Fine?” she teases, leaning forward, trying to find your gaze. Your chest twists with anxiety, and you squirm, debating whether to say anything. You haven’t even talked to Norah about this.

“I think she may be falling in love with me,” you blurt, meeting Billie’s eyes. She attempts to conceal her surprise, but you can read her well enough now to dissect the little flickers in her expression.

“Oh.” It’s a resigned sort of noise, which strikes you as odd as she leans back in her chair, but there’s a question buried there too. Her blonde hair is immaculately curled, makeup light and rosy, shirt effortlessly pressed and form fitting, but her eyes are deep and stormy and frantic, and you don’t know how to examine that without picking her apart. “Are you in love with her?” Her voice is careful and tight, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, she doesn’t make eye contact with you, scrambling to reassemble her mask.

You can’t help but think back to Billie’s bedroom when something took hold of her, spoke through Billie’s mouth and used Billie’s body and made Billie’s eyes so unrecognizably dark. Whatever was inside her that night said something you’ll never forget.

I know your secret too. I know how you really feel about Andy.

It was dark and malicious, and you didn’t know what it meant until this very moment. Until you were faced with a question to answer.

“Andy’s been teaching me a lot about how to accept happiness after Kate,” you say, setting down your fork. “And it’s gotten easier. To let myself be happy. I just…feel guilty, I think.”

“You shouldn’t—” Billie starts, but you shake your head.

“Not about Kate,” you swallow, a lump in your throat. “About Andy.” Billie blanches.

“You don’t love her.” Her voice is distant and empty, and you look down at your food.

“I want to. I should,” you squirm, and Billie’s silent for a long moment. You both are. Your heart is pounding at the admission, and Billie’s stiff as a board across from you. When you glance up at her, her chest is red and blotchy beneath her starched shirt, and you watch her swallow.

“I truly believe that some people come into your life to teach you lessons.”

“Like fate?” you chuckle, watching her carefully. She shrugs, setting her hands in her lap.

“Like some bigger consciousness. Like…” she sighs, “coincidences that don’t feel like coincidences.”

“Are you religious, Billie?” you ask, the air growing delicate between you. The answer doesn’t feel as obvious as it should, but you know that she’s spiritual. You never were, not until recently.

“I’m god fearing, if that’s what you mean,” she answers with a steadiness you need in that moment, even if the answer unsettles you.

Later, after dinner is cleaned up and you're on your second glasses of wine, you pull out a murder mystery game. Billie laughs when she sees you come back with it, setting her glass down on a coaster and toeing off her heels.

“What is that?” After you explain how it works, that you have objectives and evidence to sort through and that it’s like a big complicated puzzle, she hums, grabbing the first objective. “Prove Joe Thorton is lying about his alibi. Simple enough.”

“Simple en—Billie, please reign in your ego,” you scoff, snatching the envelope from her hand. She turns to you, eyes burning, but lets you sort through the evidence, reading newspaper clippings and witness statements aloud. Folding one leg over the other, she watches you, pensive and contemplating, resting back on her hands. She seems content to listen to you read, but you can tell how fast her brain is turning.

Then as soon as you’re done, she posits a theory. You ask her for the evidence. She points to an article. When you disprove it with a witness statement, her jaw clenches.

“What about Sally’s autopsy report?” she asks. “The coroner said the blow to her head must have come from a left handed person.”

“That doesn’t prove that Joe is lying about his alibi,” you shoot back, and Billie unfolds her legs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her spread knees. It’s something you quickly realize means she’s trying to focus. Logically, you know that Billie’s natural and relaxed state isn’t legs crossed, shoulders back, but seeing her unfold here in front of you makes you melt just a little bit. She trusts you. You.

After twenty minutes of going back and forth on the evidence through rounds of sometimes friendly disagreements, Billie grabs a photo and the little magnifying glass it comes with. After a moment of frustration, she waves her hand and purses her lips.

“Yes?” you ask, amused.

“Grab my purse,” she instructs, then looks up, distracted. “Please,” she adds, embarrassed, and you smirk but do as instructed. When you plop back down on the couch next to her, knees brushing, she rifles through it, setting it on the floor by her heels. She comes back with a pair of glasses, flicking them open and sliding them on dismissively before hunching back over the photo. You watch her with growing interest, a smile spreading across your cheeks. “The time on the clock,” she says abruptly, “It’s—” She looks up at you, startled to find you staring right at her. A blush colors her cheeks, eyelashes flickering across you. “What?” Her voice is hoarse.

“You wear glasses?” you ask, voice lilting up. She hesitates, mouth opening and closing, glasses resting so delicately on her nose. She’s embarrassed, you can tell, and moves to pull them off. You catch her hand and squeeze it, thumb swiping across warm, delicate fingers. “Don’t. It’s cute.” You blush intensely at your words, and Billie blanches. “I mean, it’s…you’re…you look good.”

“I don’t let people see me in them,” Billie says quietly. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” you assure her, pulling Billie’s hand away from her face. She doesn’t let go of it, holding your hand in her lap. You swallow, aware of how your knees are touching, how you can smell Billie’s perfume and the floral shampoo in her hair. “Let’s, um, see if you’re right,” you say, pulling out your phone. Quietly, softly, Billie intertwines your fingers. Quietly, softly, with your heart pounding in your ears, you let her. You pull up the website with the answers, and she leans close to you to see your phone. Hesitantly, you look over at her, but she’s focused elsewhere, her lashes long and delicate against her face, nose smooth and sloping, lips soft and red. You could kiss her. You could kiss Billie Dean Howard right now. Something seizes in you, and you lick your lips.

“I am,” she says then, smirking, eyes floating to yours.

“What?”

“Right about the clock. It proves Joe was lying,” she says, eyes searching your face, lips pulled into a smile over perfect teeth. God. God dammit.

“Billie?”

“Yes, Y/N?” she asks, quieting. You can tell the way her chest is rising and falling that she’s breathing just as irregularly as you, and that scares you so bad your stomach twists, and…

“Norah’s throwing a party. I want you to come.” Billie’s features soften and settle, and she swallows.

“Of course,” she says, choked, and your heart is beating so hard you think you may pass out. Why are you so nervous? It’s just Billie.

“Her birthdays are notoriously insane, so prepare yourself.”

“Notoriously?” she asks, teasing, and you nod, feeling your adrenaline slowly subside. “How would you suggest one prepares, then?”

“Wear layers. Someone will spill something on you. Guaranteed,” you start, and Billie hums, looking down at you over her glasses. Something about her voice, low and even, about the glasses, about her eyes is so unwaveringly intoxicating you find yourself leaning into her. “Do not drive. You will be too drunk to walk.”

“Noted,” she says, a smile creeping into her voice. Her thumb begins tracing yours, holding steady, and she pulls your hand just a little closer to her.

“And be prepared to be hit on,” you say, your eyes drifting across her face. She huffs out a laugh, and her breath comes out on your cheek.

“Really?”

“Norah’s a fan,” you admit, and Billie leans back a little, surprised.

“A fan?” she asks, searching your eyes. You nod.

“When you first came to Corner Store for the Signs Unseen reading she was practically drooling,” you laugh, and Billie flushes. “She gets affectionate when she’s drunk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she chuckles, eyes searching yours. “Anything else?” You hum and shake your head. You think you're closer to Billie than you remember. She blinks and seems to realize it too because her smile fades. “We should move on. To the second objective,” she mutters, letting go of your hand, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Swallowing, you nod.

“Right.” Billie uses her free hand to take off her glasses, and you feel like a spell has been broken, something irreplaceable gone between you. The space feels wider, colder, as Billie reads the second objective.

Still, she’s here with you, her feet bare, her shoulders relaxed, knees brushing. It’s intimate in a way you haven’t been with Billie, warm and close. You immediately miss it even though it’s not quite gone, crave it even though you aren’t sure what it is you’re craving.

When the night inevitably comes to an end, you walk her to the door, her heels dangling from her fingers. You watch as she slips them on so effortlessly, sighing as she stands, cheeks flushed with wine, eyes shining and heavy.

“Thank you for inviting me over. I don’t get to have very many quiet evenings like this. It was nice,” she admits, holding her hands in front of her. You chew your lip and smile.

“It was really nice. Thank you for solving a murder with me.” She holds back a laugh, her smile bursting, and then you’re leaning in for a hug. She reciprocates easily, arms wrapping around you, holding you against her. You can feel her breathing against you, feel her warmth. Absently, you rest your head on her shoulder, and she leans into you, swaying lightly. When you pull back, her hands linger, brushing hair off your ear for you and trailing down your arms.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Billie.”

She slips on her jacket, buttons it with deft fingers, and gives you a private smile that makes the whole world fall away. And when you close the door behind her, your apartment is cold but you’re so warm with Billie, Billie, Billie.

#soften me now #billie dean howard #billie dean x reader #ahs fanfic #ahs murder house #ahs fanfiction #american horror story #sarah paulson #writing

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gayer-things · 3 years

Text

Vaya con Dios - Excerpt from chapter 7: Lean On Me

Mrs. Harrington doesn’t make small talk except to tell Billy what to do, and he’s glad for it. He just focuses on chopping carrots into thin sticks. When she tells him they look neatly done he feels a tug of pride and some deep sadness he doesn’t want to think about at all, and covers it up with a flirty grin and a wink.

It’s right then that Steve bursts into the kitchen, looking wide-eyed. He stares at the both of them for a tense second.

“... What the hell?” he says, and Billy laughs before he can help it.

“Language, Stevie. Your friend Danny has been helping me make dinner,” Mrs. Harrington says calmly as she drops the carrots into boiling water. “He says you’re meant to be doing a science project.”

“Danny?” Steve repeats, looking both panicked and lost.

“Yep. Hey, Saturday night was your idea, amigo,” Billy says easily. He’s still grinning wide as he puts the knife down and pushes the carrot peelings into a bowl.

“R--... Right. Oh . Right. Yeah. I, uh… you know, I was dropping the boys off at Mrs Sinclaire’s, and they wanted to show me something, and I completely forgot the time. Uh… so I guess me and… Danny… are gonna go start on the, uh, project…?”

“Alright. Danny, you’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”

The look on Steve’s face is somewhere close to bewildered and horrified. For a second Billy considers turning down the offer and making Steve’s life a little easier, but… hell, he did sort of make a bit of it. And he hasn’t eaten yet.

“You know, that would be just great, Mrs Harrington. If your cooking’s anything like your design skills, I’m in for a real treat.” He smiles, all teeth and heated eyes, and has to bite back a laugh as Steve makes an affronted noise and grabs Billy’s coat and backpack.

Billy unties the apron and folds it, putting it aside before shoving his hands in his pockets with one last wink aimed at Mrs Harrington.

“Come on,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a firm little push. Billy’s grinning the whole way up the stairs and lets out a low whistle as Steve opens the door to his bedroom and all but pushes him in.

“Steady, princess.” His voice pitches a little lower than he meant to. Steve rolls his eyes and drops Billy’s stuff to the ground. He closes the door before whirling to face him.

“What the hell, Hargrove? Danny? Why were you flirting with my mom?! Danny?!” he hisses.

Billy shrugs easily and flops down onto Steve’s bed, kicking his boots off and putting his arms behind his head.

“You weren’t home, amigo. Last time I spoke to your mom I was being made to apologize for kicking your ass. Didn’t feel like going round two with Steve Senior. And your mom’s hot. Not as hot as Mrs Wheeler, but...” he lets out another low whistle and raises his eyebrows.

“Jesus-- stop. Stop,” Steve groans, pulling out the chair by his desk and sitting down heavily. “So what, do I have to call you ‘Danny’ now?”

Billy shrugs.

“I guess so. Daniel Miller.”

“Is that a real name?”

“Yeah it’s a real goddamn name, idiot, you never heard of ‘Daniel’ or ‘Miller’?” he sneers, pushing himself to sit up properly on Steve’s bed. It’s nice. A double, and soft. He’s got all the extra pillows and everything. His bedroom’s the size of their whole living room.

“Obviously it’s a real name, asshole, I meant is it a real name like someone you know, or do you just happen to have a fake name on hand?”

“... Nah,” he says, after just a second too long. “Just made it up. Probably read it somewhere. Let’s get this science shit over with.”

#harringrove #steve x billy #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #vaya con dios #fic

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

No Way To Get Help

@malevon

Well... this was supposed to be about Jon, but it's about Tim instead. Under the wreckage of the wax museum, Tim isn't dead.

cw nausea, depression, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation (canon typical levels for Tim end of season 3), ambiguous mentions of injury, hospitals

Four more fics to go, and only one more prompt to send in, so if you have something in mind, get it in quick! I hope you know the drill by now! Thanks @celosiaa for the wonderful card!

The silence is deafening. Or would be if Tim wasn’t partially deaf already. He hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids. What would have been the point? He knows the plan. Daisy and Basira are ….were? Hardly chatty. He didn’t? Doesn’t? Didn’t? Want to hear a single word that Jon had to say.

God. Tenses.

Is anyone still alive? Is it just him?

He should clarify. The silence is deafening after the explosion. After the circus music that was somehow louder, possibly because it was at least partly inside his head. There is probably the sound of rubble settling, and the groaning of burning building, and rushing emergency vehicles. But… he can’t hear a goddamn thing. Just that eternal ringing in his ears. He has never been sure if that was tinnitus or just what silence sounds like. Never thought it worth asking after he learned that people with tinnitus have higher rates of suicide. And… well… if this stupid plan was nothing else, wasn’t it just some grand suicide scheme?

One that looks to have spectacularly failed.

Just him… probably alone. In the dark.

Then again, if he’s alive, maybe the others are too? Does he want that?

If he’s honest, he would rather just be dead.

Not that that is a revelation.

Then again, he could be dead in a minute.

He can’t feel his legs. Well… he can. He wishes he couldn’t. He wishes he couldn’t feel anything. There is so much pain that it just… it’s too much for him to even register as pain anymore. He just feels… cold and crushed. Probably shock because there are actual fires burning around him. He can smell it. The burning plaster and plastic and wood and smoldering concrete… if that is even a thing? Thick air. He’s coughing. And that hurts more.

He can’t hear it, however.

He can’t hear anything but that goddamn ringing in his ears.

He thinks he might be crying.

He can’t hear his own heaving sobs.

Just that high-pitched whine of utter silence.

Do you know what that sound is, highness? Those are the shrieking eels…

That’s it.

The only words his brain can find, as he grows ever more numb. He has no doubt that darkness is eating at his vision, or would be if there was anything but darkness around him.

Not even the words from the book. Lines from the movie. Which isn’t a bad thing… He doesn’t even know his own feelings about his favorite book and his favorite movie.

(That’s not true. He was always a fan of the movie, but… he and Danny read the book to each other so often… He has the work paperback in the pocket of his bomber jacket. Wanted to die with it. Ideally buried with it, but it’s not like he left a note. Aside from that damn tape).

The whine continues. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

Do you know what that sound is, highness? Those are the shrieking eels…

That had been the first thing he had thought of when he first heard the worms.

He curses the worms to the darkness. If it hadn’t been for them… he could have lived in blissful ignorance about the darker nature of his job… well to some degree. Sasha would still be here. Jon wouldn’t have…. FUCK. He doesn’t want to think about Jon while he’s willing himself out of existence. But….

But Jon. That little fucking moron. Who he HATES. Who he wants to hate.

Does he hate Jon?

Is Jon even still alive?

If he’s dead, does he want to keep hating a dead man? One who …wasn’t any worse than him.

Which isn’t to say blameless, or not a twat at times…. But. But not a monster. And Tim can’t really blame him for not trusting anyone.

Jon… was in the wrong, but so was Tim. They have both been utter dicks. Which has always been Tim’s least favorite plot. God back in publishing… a Lifetime ago… he always hated books that hinged on characters fighting, not talking things out, not Understanding and that rift causing endless misery. Has he really become something that he hated… still hates with every fiber of his being. The number of books that set his teeth on edge from the first misunderstanding. He actually hates most Rom Coms for that reason. Which… surprised just about everyone he’s dated.

He possibly groans. He isn’t thinking clearly.

He can’t hear himself groan.

He really should give it up, and let himself pass out. He hurts. He’s tired. If he wakes up… that’s a problem for later. If he quietly slips away… well… maybe he’ll see Danny there. Maybe he’ll see Sasha. Hell, maybe if he sees Jon there, they can work something out. If there is an afterlife… they’ll have all the time in the world. (Or rather all the time in the next world). And if not… well. Eternal rest sounds pretty damn good.

…But. But Jon. If Jon is alive down here… He should be close.

And… Tim can’t let him die alone under this building. He can’t lose someone else to the Circus while he sits idly by. And Damn it, maybe he doesn’t want to meet Jon in the afterlife just yet, maybe he wants a break? (And maybe he just loves him too much to completely give up on him… even though he knows he is far too late. Too many bridges burned. “We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.” A line from Jon’s favorite play.)

Tim tries to move his fingertips. And almost screams. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

He thinks he might scream. But he can’t hear a sound.

He braces himself and tries again. Stretching his arms out as wide as he can. Moving dust and ash and rubble. He almost passes out. Or maybe he does pass out. Time has no meaning in this place.

He finds a hand. Cold. And limp. And his heart stops, first for fear that this is another mannequin. Then for fear that this is all that is left of someone who was… could have been… is? Something to Tim. Everything to Tim.

Tim thinks he might vomit.

He feels out a little further as his head swims. He feels the stretched and puckered skin of undoubtedly Jon’s right hand. Unresponsive. Possibly dead.

Tim coughs. Choking on the soot and heat and fumes in the air. A massive weight both metaphorical and painfully tangible on all of him. Aching pain breaking him into little shards, which turn right around and skewer him.

Tim loses consciousness. Old and cracked and dry paperback of The Princess Bride in his pocket. Limp hand of his… friend? In his hand.

Tim wakes up in hospital.

His lungs hurt. And everything feels distant and fuzzy. Probably being pumped through with a lot of painkillers. Probably for the best, or he might be more upset for waking up. He wants to ask after Jon… but he can’t get his mouth to open.

And suddenly he’s thinking about Westley. Mostly dead. Revived. Head flopping around on his neck. Danny had lost his shit laughing at that… it always made Tim feel sick after… everything. The imitation of life… couldn’t quite shake the image of… that night. Christ if he was on less drugs, he would probably puke.

He would shake his head if he could move.

“You just shook your head, that doesn’t make you happy?”

He is also struck by the thought that this is Kill Bill in reverse. Nearly died getting his revenge, and then ending up in a coma. (He watched those movies on Bad days. When he downs enough whiskey to drown a horse. He can’t say he really remembers much of them, but they were always cathartic.)

He tries to look at his feet. But he can’t even lift his head.

He closes his eyes again.

When he opens them, he sees Martin. Worn and tired. Looking older than ever, more haggard than Jon.

Shit! Jon. Is Jon here? Is he dead?

He still can’t move.

He looks at Martin again. Martin is… talking? Tim can’t make out anything. Just the dull murmur of meaningless sound.

…But.

Martin is holding a book.

A sooty, singed book.

Martin sitting between two hospital beds, holding Tim’s old copy of The Princess Bride, facing Tim presumably so if Tim were to come around, Tim could read his lips.

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”? You mean dies?

My father nodded. ‘Prince Humperdink kills him.’

‘He’s only faking though, right?’

My father shook his head, closed the book all the way.

‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry.

‘I’m sorry,’ my father said. ‘I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.”

Martin is also crying. Just like Billy in the book.

“’Who gets Humperdinck?’” Tim whispers. Painfully aware of how dry his throat is. It’s no more than a cracked whisper.

And then he’s coughing.

He can barely hear himself, but he swears he is coughing out a lung.

Martin has dropped the book. Staring in wide-eyed shock for a moment, before yelling something. Scrambling up. Probably getting a doctor. Tim wishes he hadn’t gone.

He looks are where Martin had been, but ends up getting a good look at the bed next to him. And sees one, very still and very pale Jonathan Sims. Very bandaged, and frighteningly still. Tim can’t see breathing.

And then he’s being poked and prodded and tested and Martin is talking to him. And everything hurts. Until it doesn’t and he’s lying still and Martin is smoothing his hair down and holding his hand and telling him that he’s been unconscious for a month. That Jon is all but brain dead. That Elias is in police custody.

By the time Jon wakes up, five months later, Tim has decided to give him another chance, he and Martin are sharing a flat, there is another room ever hopeful that Jon will want to join then if- no, when he wakes up.

Also. Jon’s hair may or may not be dyed green.

Maybe.

No, Tim has no idea what everyone is looking at him like that for.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #tim stoker #timothy stoker #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw suicidal ideation #cw nausea #cw injury #cw hospitals #fic #my fic #my writing #my art #my words

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theyearoftheking · 3 years

Text

Book Eighty-One: Billy Summers

“Maybe a chilly story needs a chilly writing room, he thinks. It’s as good an explanation as any, since the whole process is a mystery to him, anyway.”

Well hello there, Constant Readers! Have you missed me and my half-assed reviews of Steve books?

Crickets.

I know I’ve promised book reviews, television recaps... all the things. But I’m kind of busy living and enjoying life at the moment, without the need to take notes or screen grabs. That being said, I really did enjoy Billy Summers, and it took me almost a hundred pages to remember how this blogging thing worked. I was supposed to take notes? Dark Tower references? DePere, Wisconsin? Should I remember that for some reason? But don’t worry, it was like riding a bike. This blog is full of all the stuff you’ve come to know and love, as well as SPOILERS!!! So, if you have not finished the book yet, stop reading and come back once you’ve turned the last page.

SPOILERS!!! Consider yourselves adequately warned.

Billy Summers doesn’t really include anything supernatural, and it’s more suspenseful and plot driven than some of Steve’s other books. In other words, it’s another great recommendation for people who don’t claim they don’t like Stephen King.

Billy is an assassin who has mastered the art of “dumb like a fox”.

He’s hired for a new assignment, but something seems off. Billy has been in the assassin game long enough to know when something is foul in the state of Denmark. He doesn’t trust the people who hired him, and he has the distinct impression he’s going to end up as the patsy in the end. But, he plays along as Dave Lockridge, single man and writer. He moves onto a charming street in Midwood (I kept reading this as Midworld... thanks, Steve), makes friends with all the neighbors, and beats all the neighborhood kids at Monopoly on the weekends. This part of the book was so tender, it reminded me a lot of Ted Brautigan and the kids from Hearts in Atlantis. Of all the things Billy later regrets, it’s letting these kids down, and having them trust him when he was obviously so untrustworthy.

During the day, Billy writes at his office in Gerald Tower. There’s always a tower, isn’t there? And this tower takes on more significance, because it’s the spot from which Billy is supposed to shoot Joel Allen. Joel is due to be transferred to Midwood, and marched up the steps of the courthouse just like in The Outsider. Constant Readers remember how well that worked out...

Billy has an assassins creed: he only shoots bad guys. On the scale of bad guys, Joel Allen isn’t quite Ted Bundy, but he’s not Mr. Rodgers either. He had something of a “me too” moment when he accidentally mistook a feminist writer for a sex worker; and there was a gun fight outside of a poker game. It’s enough for Billy to work with.

Billy is waiting for Joel to be transferred to the Midworld Midwood county lock-up; and he bides his time by actually doing some writing. He covers his tragic childhood (his mom worked in a laundry facility, just like Steve’s mom), and his time in the military. This is where Steve really shines. Billy’s book is written in a childish tone that just WORKS. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a simple-minded assassin. But still waters, friends. As the story goes on, Billy’s voice grows and improves. Well done, Steve, it’s like two books for the price of one.

In between writing, Billy assumes another fake identity (Dalton Smith), and secures a bolt hole to hide out in once his job is complete. Believe it or not, the murder of Joel Allen is such an insignificant part of the book. Billy successfully takes him out, and makes it to his bolt hole undetected. And this is really where the second part of the book starts.

One rainy night, Billy hears random noises outside his apartment. He looks out the window in time to see a van full of guys dump a female body into a gutter. Billy should have just anonymously called the police... but if he had done that, we wouldn’t have a story. Instead, Billy goes full on Captain Save A Ho, and pulls the young woman from the gutter. It’s clear she had been drugged and assaulted, and she manages to puke all over Billy’s place.

Neat.

When Alice wakes up in the morning, she recognizes Billy from the police sketches, but promises not to rat him out for the Joel Allen murder. They form an unlikely friendship that includes watering the neighbor’s plants, watching Blacklist, and Alice reading Billy’s book. Basically, they were sheltering in place before that was even a thing; something Steve jokes about. Eventually, Billy knows he needs to get the rest of his money for the Joel Allen hit, and punish the guys who raped Alice.

Y’all. I’m still having nightmares over the most creative use of a hand mixer I have ever read. I thought the can-opener in Lisey’s Story was bad... this was worse. But the kind of worse you feel good about, if that makes sense.

After finding out the name of the guy behind the Joel Allen hit, killing a few bad dudes, and pissing off a bitch named Marge (fucking Marge if you’re nasty), Billy and Alice hunker down in Colorado with Billy’s assassin booking agent, Bucky.

As soon as Billy and Alice entered Colorado and the town of Sidewinder was mentioned, I knew where we were headed. Yeah buddy, Overlook time!

Billy takes to writing in a little shack behind Bucky’s house, and inside the shack is a Polaroid picture of the topiary animals at the Overlook. Every time Billy looks at the picture, the animals seem to have shifted. It gives him a cold sense of dread.

There’s a certain parallel I picked up on in Colorado: Jack Torrance and Billy Summers are both haunted men running away from things. The Overlook was where Jack went to dry out, and work on his writing. He wanted to work on his marriage, and become a better father to Danny. We all know he failed spectacularly. Then, we’ve got Billy. Billy actually gets writing accomplished, and becomes an unlikely father-figure to Alice. Despite having just as much, if not more baggage than Jack, Billy doesn’t let it define him. He acknowledges it, and moves past it. It’s almost like Billy accomplishes what Jack couldn’t. And it took the Overlook burning to the ground for that to happen.

While we’re on the topic of Billy and Alice, one of the things I love about Steve’s characters is he never forces romance where there doesn’t need to be any. While Billy acknowledges the age gap between him and Alice, nothing untoward ever happens between them. There’s obvious love, but never the romantic kind. Steve is one of the few contemporary writers to get this right.

The story ends with Billy killing the guy behind Joel’s hit, getting shot by Marge as he leaves the crime scene (fucking Marge), Alice nursing him back to health, and getting him back to Colorado where they all live happily ever after.

I wish.

I wish I had stopped reading twenty-three pages before the book ended, because the actual end was more realistic, but heartbreaking. In reality, fucking Marge shot Billy in the stomach, and he died of an infection in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Fucking Marge indeed. But this was the way the book should have ended. Needed to end. Anything else would have been unrealistic. But damn, I hated to see Billy go out like that.

There was one Wisconsin reference: after Billy kills Joel Allen, he’s supposed to be transferred to a safe house in De Pere. You know... where Steve lived when he was in a kid.

Other than Gerald Tower, we were also graced with “the world has moved on-” just to remind us that we all follow The Beam.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 49

Total Dark Tower References: 78

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

Billy Summers: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

If It Bleeds: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Later: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

I’m not going to end this with any promises of upcoming posts. That way when I do randomly stumble on here one afternoon, it will be a delight for us all.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

#constant reader #stephen king #the dark tower #the shining #billy summers #hearts in atlantis #lisey's story #the overlook #jack torrance

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

What if Billy did l leave to Cali and moved in with his old friend, the guy who was kind of his boyfriend before Neil dragged him to Hawkins. After couple of years of him living there, they would go out to a bar with Billy’s old friends and him and the guy would kinda have this fwb thing going on. But then, Billy sees Steve. The guy he had a crush on before he decided he wasn’t good enough for him and left after a night where he had finally fucked Steve senseless —

Pt. 2. Billy would be shocked to see him and before he realizes, Steve’s already coming towards their table. He has came with one of Billy’s friends, Steve being that guys date. There would be some confusion and jealousy from both of them, but they would still end up fucking after the night. (lmao i’m sorry that this is long)

This is from forever ago, I’m sorry it took me a thousand years.

It doesn’t actually have smut, bc where I went with it, it just didn’t feel like it fit, I’m sorry about that.

“Billy, we haven’t gone out in like, a month.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“We went out last weekend, you little baby.” He pushed at Danny’s face. “Git outta here you monster, and maybe I’ll consider meeting you there.”

“Kyle is bringing that guy he’s been dating.”

“And?”

“I was talking to Andie, and she said he’s totally not Kyle’s type. Apparently he’s like, super femme.” Kyle was known for going for absolute macho douchebags. “So we’ll get to meet him, and totally make fun of Kyle for whatever he’s tryna do, changin’ everything up like this.”

Billy threw his head back, groaning at the ceiling.

“Fucking fine. But if he’s an asshole, like Kyle’s guys always fucking are, I’m leaving.”

They met the rest of the gang at the bar, pushing through the small crowd to reach the large table they had claimed. Billy greeted his friends, elbowing Kyle a few times and asking where his new honey is.

“He’s getting us drinks, lay off.” Kyle shoved Billy away, made him bark a laugh. he turned around, was going to head for the bar, but stopped in his fucking tracks.

Steve fucking Harrington was making his way towards him, a drink in each hand.

He hadn’t seen Steve since the night he left Hawkins four years ago.

They had been moving towards something for months, had finally fell into one another, having a night of the most tender sex Billy has ever had in his entire fucking life. Steve had looked at him with those big perfect eyes, and had told Billy he loved him.

Billy left when Steve fell asleep, packed up his car and didn’t stop driving until he reached the Pacific.

Steve spotted him, stopping in his tracks, glaring at Billy. He stomped forward, pushing a drink into Kyle’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Everyone turned to look at Steve when he spat that at Billy.

“Meeting my friends. Why are you here, Harrington?” Steve gestured lamely at Kyle.

“You two know each other?” Kyle looked at Billy with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Remember when I lived in that shitty hick town for two years? Steve is from there.” Steve looked livid. “Good for you for getting out, Pretty Boy.”

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that, right, Hargrove?” Everyone was watching with wide eyes as the two went back and forth, heads turning like they were watching a tennis match.

“What the fuck did I do?” Steve’s eyes seemed to crackle.

“You know what the fuck you did. You couldn’t’ve even bothered to say goodbye? Had to run away like that?”

“Wait, did you two fuck?” They both ignored Danny.

“I had to get out, Harrington. You don’t know shit about me.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. Billy admired the pretty eyeshadow on them.

“Max told me everything. I knew it all. You’re just a fucking coward that couldn’t take the fact you felt the same way.” Everybody had lost the conversation, couldn’t derive enough from the fight to figure out exactly what had happened between these two.

“I was saving you from yourself, Pretty Boy. I was always gonna leave. Better right away than let you get your hopes up.” Steve stamped his foot.

“My fucking hero.” He picked up one of the drinks he had brought, chugging it down before slamming the glass back onto the table, grabbing Kyle’s hand. “We’re dancing.” He turned to Billy. “Don’t fucking talk to me tonight.”

They disappeared back into the crowd. Billy made his way to the bar, downing two shots right after the other.

“You used to date him, or something?” Billy shook his head, not looking at Danny.

“Nah. I fucked him once and he told me he loved me. I packed up and left the next day.”

“Wait, you only fucked once and he said that?” Billy slammed another shot.

“We were friends, I guess. He had a thing for me, and I just wanted some ass.” That was a complete lie, but Danny didn’t need to know the sweet warmth that had settled in Billy’s gut when Steve said he loved him, how badly he wanted to say it back, how he had gotten scared and made the stupidest decision he had ever made.

“And then you left without saying goodbye?” Billy nodded. “That’s kinda fucked up.” Billy just stared at him.

“What?”

“You knew the guy was into you, and you just dicked him and ditched him without saying goodbye. That’s fucked, Billy.”

“I don’t need this from you. You do not understand what that fucking town was like for me.”

“No, I understand perfectly. You’re a bigger asshole than I thought.” Danny shook his head. Heading back to the table. Billy downed two more shots.

His head was fuzzy as he stumbled into the alleyway for some fresh air.

He tried a few times to light a cigarette when he heard a quiet sniffle.

He turned to see Steve leaning against a wall further down the alley.

“You okay?” Steve stiffened.

“What’s it matter to you?” Billy shrugged.

“If Kyle tried anything-”

“Oh, shut up. He dumped me because of you.” Billy took a few unbalanced steps towards him.

“‘Do you mean?”

“He asked about what happened, and I told him. How you led me on for over a year, how you would let me open up to you, let me cry and feel insecure and would tell me that I was enough the way I am, how you fucked me and ran away the next day, didn’t even bother to call or even write for four years.” Steve had silvery tears running down his cheeks now, illuminated by the streetlights. “How I waited for you, like a fucking idiot before letting myself move on.” He wiped his eyes. “God, I told myself I was done crying over you.”

“Steve, I didn’t mean to-”

“Doesn’t matter. You still did it.” Billy’s heart sank. Steve looked fucking broken in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run like I did. Especially, especially because you’re right. I was scared of how much I felt for you. Scared that if I let myself love you, I would’ve stayed in Hawkins forever. Would’ve never gotten out from under my dad’s thumb.”

“Bill,” Billy’s heart fluttered at the way Steve’s voice sounded when he said his name like that, was immediately transported to late nights sitting in his car overlooking the quarry. “I would’ve left with you. I didn’t like it there, either. I would’ve left with you.”

“I was an idiot. Still am sometimes. But I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess. You deserve a lot better than me.” Steve took a shaky breath.

“Y’know, it still sucks. After all these years of telling myself I hate you for what you did, standing here with you, I still-I mean I could never hate you.”

“You wanna come back to my place? Nothing implied, just to talk. Catch up.” Steve chewed on his bottom lip. His lipstick was a pretty deep red.

“Sure. We can, we can catch up.”

Billy led him the few blocks back to his two-bedroom he shares with Danny. He grabbed them each a beer while Steve studied the pictures tacked to the walls.

“Are you two together?” He pointed tot the picture, one of many, of Billy and Danny at the beach, arms around one another.

“Nah. We live together, and we fuck sometimes, but neither of us would be good in a relationship together.” Steve just nodded. “You date much?”

“Not back in Hawkins. I spent about a year there after you left. Robin graduated and moved out here, and I moved into a shitty apartment in Hawkins until she finished her first year and moved out of the dorms. I live with her now. She’s helped me embrace myself more.”

Billy remembers a night when he and Steve got drunk in Steve’s bedroom, how he’d found some dresses in Steve’s closet, the way he’d broken down and cried and said that he just liked to feel pretty, that sometimes he didn’t even feel like a boy.

Billy had held him all night. Bought him some makeup from the drugstore the next day. Probably shitty stuff, but Steve had looked at it like it was made of gold.

“I’m happy for you. I’m glad you get to be yourself here.” Steve sat down next to him on the ratty couch, leaving a solid two feet of space between them.

“You seem a lot happier out here. Like, you just seem lighter.”

“I am so much happier here.” Steve’s smile was tight, a little bitter. “I just mean, without my dad here, I’ve been going to therapy, and I have this support group for queer abuse survivors, and I’m just not angry all the fucking time like I used to be.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Billy had forgotten.

He’d forgotten that Steve had this lovely way of saying something simple and making it the best thing that’s Billy’s ever heard. Making billy realize he’d never heard that simple thing said to him before.

He didn’t even think.

Just leaned across the space and kissed Steve.

he pushed him away.

“Billy, I won’t let you do this again. It took me years to get over what you did. You can’t just kiss me and think it’s all okay.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Steve shook his head, went to get up off the couch. Billy grabbed his wrist. “You know, I wanted to say it back that night.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve’s voice was small.

“I did. I felt that same. But I got fucking scared. And I left and I shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, you should have. We just established that you’re doing better here!”

“But I could’ve held out a little longer, long enough that you could’ve come with me.” Steve finally turned to look at him.

“Billy, you did what you had to do. I forgave you a long time ago. When I first saw you tonight I was just, it made me remember the hurt.”

“I know I hurt you. And I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve blinked at him.

“You get one chance. One more chance. Do it for real. Take me out on a date. I want the whole nine. Pick me up, tell me I’m pretty, take me somewhere inexpensive but nice, hold my hand, kiss me on my doorstep, all of it.” Billy just nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want.”

Steve smiled at him, turning over his hand to hold Billy’s.

“Then pick me up tomorrow at six. Don’t be late.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #i feel like im gonna throw up im just tryna write until all my problems go away honestly

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halo-jpeg · 4 years

Note

I hope I didn’t leave a bad impression with my last ask, gah, I’m not good with social interactions. I wanted to make it up to you by giving you a happier ask! What if slashers (any of them you want to write for) with reader who isn’t an S/O but rather a really good best friend who was there for them since the beginning?

Oh, what was your last ask, if I may inquire? Either way, this idea is absolutely adorable, I’d love to write it!

Michael Myers

Michael grew up with you. Your mother and his were great friends, so the two of you were kind of forced together.

He wasn’t too fond of you at first, but you grew closer as the days passed. It was inevitable.

You grew even closer as school went on, always there to run away from bullies or patch up any wounds thst were given. Sadly, being friends with Michael is a one-way ticket to Freakville.

I can imagine that the two of of you would spend lots of time in his forest together, building forts out of branches and such.

Now, in the current day, you provide shelter for your murderer friend, spending the nights watching movies or painting homemade masks together.

He keeps you safe from anyone and anything posing a threat to you, following you around whenever he can, and making sure you’re never harmed.

You patch up his wounds, feed him, and make sure the police don’t come sniffing around your house. Even if they did, you talk them into leaving without suspicion.

You know Michael could never bring himself to hurt you, so he lets you boss him around quite often with no more than a glare and a huff.

He’s like a tsundere, but platonic. He’d never admit that you’re his best- and only- friend, but it’s the truth, and he loves you like family.

Jason Voorhees

Jason was so, so shy, but something about you made him want to be your friend. You were so... normal, and be admired that.

It took quite some encouragement to actually go talk to you, and he had Pamela at his side through it all. He was so afraid you’d hate his face.

The moment you choose to be his friend he’s attached to you. He’d put all of his trust in you, and he’d see you as a sort of protector.

Ever since he started hanging out with you, less people have bothered him. Probably because he was usually out in the forest with you, away from prying eyes, playing hide and seek or tropical explorers.

You came back to Camp Crystal Lake every year, even after he died. You couldn’t bear to leave the memories. You spoke to Pamela a lot, too, keeping Jason’s spirit alive between the two of you.

When Pam died, you went to the lake to pay your respects at her tombstone. You had never guessed Jason, big, scary, murdering Jason, would greet you with a great big hug.

You moved out to the lake on a whim, and Jason moved in with you, patrolling the grounds at night and helping you with chores or gardening during the day.

He’s just as clingy as ever, but now, he’s your protector, and he always will be.

He doesn’t like when you swim in the lake, but he battles down his fear and acts as a life guard whenever you insist on taking a dip.

You patch up his wounds, making sure he’s clean and healthy, and in turn he keeps any pesky teenagers at bay, as well as keeps your crops nice and strong. He’s a great farmer.

Billy & Stu

Billy and Stu were best friends from the beginning, and they weren’t opposed to having a third party join their group.

Even as kids Billy was super popular, so both you and Stu were in the clear when it came to bullies.

You spent most weekends sleeping over at each other’s houses watching all sorts of movies. Horror, comedy, action, romance- you name it! Because of this, you’re just as much of a movie buff as the others.

When other friends like Sidney, Tatum and Randy came along, Billy and Stu made sure you knew you were still top priority.

They didn’t hide their murderous plans from you for long, unable to bear seeing you so worried for your own life.

Once you knew they were the killers, you couldn’t be angry or scared of them. Although, you did feel slightly guilty as your friends died off around you. Anyone would.

As adults, movie nights are still inportant, and you find yourself watching movies as you patch up their bumps and bruises from their hunts.

They keep you plenty safe, and the three of you together have the best fun. You’re all meant to be.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

Danny was an outcast as a kid- he preferred photographs over people, but something about your face was next to irresistible.

Confident little Danny strolled right up to you one day and asked if he could take some pictures of you and your pretty face.

You and him clicked at that very moment, and he even taught you some of his photography skills.

His mother loved the hell out of you, and was always happy to have you over for dinner.

The night that Danny killed his mother and father, his first instinct was to go find you for help. Let’s just say you were surprised to see a bloody, terrified Danny crawling through your bedroom window at 3 am.

He ditched town for a while, finding shelter and solace in an old shack he’d stumbled upon, you taking up the job of bringing him food and whatever else he would need to live.

His Jed Olsen days were just fine, him showing his face again and living with you until people linked the Jed alibi to the murders. Then he was hiding again.

You hid with him, being the errand boy/girl, and spending most days chilling around with him doing who-knows-what. You were like a sister/brother to him, and he was just the same to you.

He trusts you with his life, and he kills off anyone who bothers you. You can even make requests, like you would to a rad DJ at a party. Although this was different... being murder and all.

Any and all S/Os of yours must pass the ‘Danny Test’, wherein he sees if they’re good enough to date you. Most fail. He’s picky, and overprotective.

Brahms Heelshire

The first day your parents brought you to the Heelshire residence to spend time with their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, both you and Brahms were reluctant to meet another child.

Living a life of seclusion Brahms never imagined meeting someone hed actually care for enough to consider a friend. He was proven wrong.

He wanted to see you every day, and you wanted the same. You ended up having play dates every second day or so, and Brahms found himself actually growing very fond of you.

The fire was devestating, and you couldn’t sleep for weeks and weeks. In the future, an ad for a nanny job seemed like a shockingly nostalgiac idea, so you took the job to see tbe house where you made so many memories.

Brahms recognized you almost instantly. He basically rushed his parents out of the house so he could see you in action, in a natural environment where you could be yourself. He needed to know if it was really you.

Upon confirming that it was you, (Y/N), he showed himself that same day without fear. All it took for you to burst into happy tears was him saying your name in the same voice he had as a child.

Now, Brahms loves to reenact the old days, having tea parties and playing in the forest like he had as a child. He’s so happy to have you back!

He’s a very jealous man, so he’s never going to be fond of your S/O, but he’ll tolerate you having one as long as you promise not to leave him.

He won’t go in the walls very often anymore because he’s not afraid of you. He also won’t wear his mask much. His trust in you is infinite!

Pyramid Head

Before Pyramid Head became the monster he was, he had a normal life in a human world, with you glued to his side like two peas in a pod.

At school, he would keep you safe from bullies, using his abnormal height and strength to scare them off.

He always inwardly groaned when people would say the two of you were cute together, because neither of you liked each other like that.

The day P.H. went missing, you had been heartbroken. Who knew you would stumble upon him again years later in hell on earth?

When first running into Pyramid Head as we know him now, neither of you recognized each other. How could you, after all those years?

You would have been dead if you hadn’t spoken, and if he hadn’t recognized your voice. He was completely shocked.

Unable to speak, It was more than difficult to tell you thst he was him, your old best friend. After plenty of struggling you finally realize.

Now, he’s your ultimate bodyguard. Nothing and no one will ever hurt you. He knows Silent Hill like the back of his hand, so he’s like a guide as well.

He’ll do his very best to train you to defend yourself. He can’t lose you, not after you’ve finally returned again.

He’s got serious attachement issues, so he never leaves your side. Despite all the défense training, he won’t leave you alone for long.

Amanda Young

Amanda lived a rough childhood, so it was fantastic to have a friend like you to help her through it.

She was defiant, even as a child, so she stood up to anyone who would try to tease either of you. It usually resulted in a harsh beating, but she always walked away alright.

As she fell deeper and deeper into a dark spiral, she ignores your attempts to help, and before she knew it she was addicted to drugs. She wishes she’d have listened to you and your warnings.

When you heard she had been kidnapped by the infamous Jigsaw, you were horrified. You had never in a million years expected her to walk out alive, yet she did.

She kept her mentoring with John Kramer on the down low, keeping that new identity hidden. You were just glad she had gotten off of drugs.

Balancing a stable life with you and enough time with John was difficult and strenuous for your relationship. Sooner or later you grew curious as to where she always was and demanded an answer.

She told you. In a moment of vulnerability she spilled her guts, telling you everything about her gae with Jigsaw and it’s outcome, how she was training to kill. She had cried, afraid you would leave her or turn her in to the police.

Of course you did neither. After a bit of a rough patch where you had to get used to the idea, you and Amanda grew closer than ever. You even helped her with some traps and devices for her games.

You saw how she looked up to John like a father figure, glad that she had someone like that in her life again. John grew fond of you as well, and before you knew it, he was training both of you to be his disciples.

You and Amanda regarded each other as siblings for the rest of your days.

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jackies-wearing-khakis · 4 years

Text

The Duel (shelby!reader)

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹!

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 ��𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗱𝘂𝗲𝗹.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟭,𝟲𝟯𝟲

"Where are the boys going with the guns?" you asked your Aunt Polly. You sat at the kitchen table, dangling your legs off your chair. Polly sat opposite you, drinking some tea quietly. Your eyes were fixed on Arthur, Tommy, and John as they left the house quickly with rifles hanging on their shoulders. You were only eleven, and couldn't possibly understand what they were going to do.

"Don't look at them." Polly warned. The curtness in her voice was familiar, but there was a nervous undertone you weren't used to hearing.

Your brothers left quietly. You watched them through the window in silence as they got in Tommy's car and drove off.

"Will they be back soon?" you questioned. "Arthur's promised to take me and Finn to a film later." Your aunt took a long sip and put her cup down.

"I don't think that's going to happen, (y/n)." Polly breathed. She stared blankly at the wall, anxiously tapping her nails onto the table. The house was uncomfortably silent.

Upstairs, you could hear Karl crying. "Pol, I need help with the baby!" Ada called down. Polly sprung to her feet and drank the last of her tea.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" she shouted, and rushed upstairs. You were left alone in the kitchen, feeling uneasy.

It wasn't difficult to tell something was wrong. You'd rarely ever seen Polly so nervous, and it was starting to scare you. You bit your lip, looking around the room for some kind of distraction.

You noticed a revolver lying on the floor next to the sofa. 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴, you thought. You hopped off your chair to take a closer look at the gun.

It was surprisingly heavy, and you felt bizarre holding it in your hands. Finn had taught you how to cock a gun a few months back, having learned it from John. He had always been eager to show off new skills with you.

In that moment, you felt a longing for your brothers. You didn't understand why they had to leave so suddenly; all you knew was that you wanted to see them. So, in that moment, you decided to follow them. You quickly put on a scarf and a coat, slipping the gun into your pocket. Quietly, you snuck out the front door.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Kimber." Tommy spoke rationally. John, Arthur, and the whole of the Peaky Blinders stood behind him, all with large guns in their hands. Billy Kimber and his men, who were equally armed, stood opposite them.

"Too late for all that," Kimber scoffed. "You've bitten off more than you can chew, Thomas. And now I'm going to take over this shithole."

"So be it," Thomas breathed. He began to load his gun.

The brief silence was broken as you ran out from an alley and into the open street with the gun in your hand.

"Tommy!" you shouted, running towards your brother. "You forgot this!"

Your pace slowed to a halt as you noticed the looks on your brothers faces. They were stunned to see you, an eleven year-old girl, standing in between two rival gangs on the brink of battle. You suddenly felt overwhelmed by the countless faces staring at you.

You walked over to Tommy slowly, holding the gun in front of you. The street was unsettlingly quiet. You found yourself wanting nothing more than to go home.

Tommy took the gun carefully and looked down at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, which only made you feel worse.

"I.. I'm sorry Tom.. I just.. I thought you might be needing it." you stammered.

Tommy didn't respond, but crouched down to make eye contact with you. He put his hand on your shoulder and looked you in the eye.

"Listen to me very carefully (y/n).." he spoke. His tone was smooth, but you could tell by the grip of his hand that he was anything but. "You need to leave 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸. Go home."

You looked up at Arthur and John, who avoided your gaze.

"What's going on here?" you asked, feeling uneasy. "What are you going to do?"

"Do what Tommy says, (y/n)," John spoke stiffly. "We'll be home soon enough."

You took a step away from your brothers, detaching yourself from Tommy. You turned around slowly to face Kimber and his men, who stared at you in silence.

"For fucks sake, Tommy. Get the girl out of here already." the gangster spat, cocking his gun.

"(y/n), I'm not joking. 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦." Tommy warned, keeping his eyes on you and Kimber at the same time.

"𝘕𝘰." you spoke; the embarrassment you had felt before was suddenly fading. In it's place, you felt a growing sense of anger.

"You're going to hurt eachother, I can tell." you said, raising your voice. Your eyes scanned the crowd around you.

"(y/n), 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨?" Tommy questioned. He'd given up trying to act calm, and he wore a panicked expression.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, ignoring Tommy's question. "I don't get it, what's the point? Why do you have to fight?"

You made eye contact with Kimber, and you immediately recognized him.

"I know you." you spoke gently. "You're Kimber, you're Tommy's 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥."

"(y/n), this doesn't have anything to do with you. Just go home, okay?" Tommy said for the last time. You whipped your head around aggressively.

"Stop telling me what to do!" you snapped. You stared at your brother in spite.

Your face felt hot, and you wanted to throw something. You weren't used to feeling this way, but you embraced it.

"You can't just solve things by 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 people! That won't change anything!" you shouted, letting your emotions overcome you. "Why do people have to die before you can agree on anything?!"

The street fell silent. You looked around one final time, hoping to God that your words meant something.

"She's right, you know." Kimber finally spoke. "Why should all you men die? It should just be them who's caused it."

Without warning, Kimber fired his gun at Tommy, barely grazing his arm.

Unable to process the situation in time, you fell on your stomach like Polly had taught you to do when you were just a toddler. You could see Tommy stumble backwards as one of his friends, Danny, ran in front of him and took a bullet in the heart.

You covered your ears as stray bullets were shot blindly from either side, none of them hitting a target. Finally, Tommy got on his feet and shot Kimber in the head. You turned away before you could see him die.

As soon as the gunfire ended, you felt Arthur scoop you up and drag you away. He quickly set you down on some crates that lined one of the surrounding buildings.

"Are you hurt?" he asked firmly, checking you for any wounds. You stared in horror as some of the Peaky Blinders men carried Danny away.

"No, no I'm okay." you said. Your voice was trembling.

You watched as Tommy stood in the middle of the street. He pressed his hand against his wound.

"Kimber and me fought this battle one on one. It's over."

Tommy turned to you, and your eyes met his.

"Go home to your families." he finished. Slowly, the men scattered.

Tommy wasted no time making his way to you. You breathed heavily in anticipation.

"What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 was that, (y/n)?!" he spat.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I-"

"Don't 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 do something that fucking stupid again. You could've gotten yourself fucking 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥."

Tears were streaming down your flushed cheeks. You were overwhelmed with emotions. Fear, anger, and sadness rushed through your mind.

"I'm sorry, Tommy, I really am," you cried. "I just wanted to help you."

"Give her some credit, Tom." John said, walking over. "She's saved more than a few lives."

"𝘈𝘯𝘺 one of those bullets could have gone astray and hit her." Tommy spoke, and your brothers went silent. There was no denying it, your actions were reckless.

"They didn't though, did they?" John said, breaking the silence. He ruffled your hair, in an attempt to comfort you.

"Tommy's right, (y/n).." Arthur spoke frankly. "What you did was stupid, but it was brave."

Your face lit up as your eldest brother complimented you. It wasn't often you got this type of recognition.

Your eyes met Tommy's. He was still tense, but his expression wasn't as angry as it had been.

"Tom," you spoke. "I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy pulled you into a tight hug. You could feel his body shaking as he sighed deeply.

"Just.. don't do it again. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, (𝘺/𝘯)." was all he said.

"𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦." you whispered back, and that was enough to make your brother relax.

You drove back to Watery Lane with your brothers, sitting in silence. John and Arthur let you sit in the front of the car next to Tommy, saying that you'd earned that honor. It was a rare oppurtunity, but you weren't able to enjoy it. You'd been exposed to a violent side of your brother's lives that you were still too young to process. You didn't know how to feel.

There was one thing you were sure of, though. You did the right thing today. You didn't care how angry Polly would be with you, or how reckless Tommy thought you were. You refused to be sorry for trying to keep your brothers safe.

So, as you began to doze off, you made a promise to yourself. You were never, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, going to let your family get hurt, no matter how much danger you had to put yourself through.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelbysister!reader #tommy x sister!reader #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby

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sickhumor · 3 years

Text

Jokes for the more mature reader (dated humor)

On the ﬁrst day of school, the college dean addressed the freshman class to explain some of the campus rules. “The women’s dormitory is off-limits to male students and the men’s dormitory is off-limits to female students,” he intoned. “Anybody caught breaking this rule will be fined $20 the ﬁrst time, $60 the second time and $180 the third time. Does anyone have any questions?”

A male student raised his hand. “How much for a season pass?”

_______________________________

A ﬂea had oiled up his little ﬂea legs and his little flea arms and was soaking up the Miami sun when an old ﬂea friend of his walked by. “Oscar, what happened to you?" asked the first ﬂea when he saw how terrible his friend looked——runny nose, red eyes, teeth chattering.

“I got a ride down here in some biker’s mustache and nearly froze my nuts off,” wheezed Oscar.

“Let me give you a tip, old pal,” said the ﬁrst ﬂea. "Go to the stewardess lounge at the airport, get up on the toilet seat and when a stewardess comes in, hop on for a nice warm ride. Got it?”

A month later, while stretched out on the beach, the ﬂea saw Oscar again, looking more chilled and miserable than before. “I did everything you said,” Oscar explained. “I went to the stewardess lounge, made a perfect landing and got so warm and cozy that I dozed off.”

“And so?” asked the first ﬂea.

“And so the next thing I know, I’m on this guy’s mustache again!”

________________________________

When does Michael Jackson’s kid know that it’s time to go to bed?

The big hand touches the little hand.

_________________________________

An old lady—a spinster and a virgin, and proud of it—lived in a tiny village. She knew her last days were approaching, so she told the local undertaker that she wanted the following inscription on her tombstone: BORN A VIRGIN, LIVED A VIRGIN, DIED A VIRGIN.

Not long after she had made her wish known, the old maid died peacefully in her sleep. The undertaker told the stonecutters of the lady’s request. The men, practical to a fault, thought about the inscription and concluded that it was unnecessarily long. They wrote simply: RETURNED UNOPENED.

__________________________

RECORDED MESSAGE OF THE MONTH!

“Hello, welcome to the psychiatric hotline.

“If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press one repeatedly.

“If you are codependent, please ask someone to press two.

“If you have multiple personalities, please press three, four, five and six.

“If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line until we can trace your call.

“If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.

"If you are manic-depressive, it doesn’t matter which number you press. No one will answer.”

_________________________________

What’s a female bisexual?

A lesbian with car trouble.

_________________________

While at the fairgrounds, a woman wanted to take a ride on the Ferris wheel before heading home. Her husband waited while she took a spin. The wheel went round and round and suddenly the woman was thrown out. She landed in a heap at her husband’s feet. He gasped and bent down. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Of course I’m hurt!” she replied. “Three times around and you didn’t wave once.”

____________________________

A little boy walked in on his parents in the heat of their lovemaking. “Mommy, what are you doing?”

“Um,” she stammered, “well, Daddy is so fat that I’m bouncing all the air out of him.”

“I don’t know what good it’s going to do," the boy replied. “The lady next door is just going to blow him up again!”

__________________________

The young woman complained to her friend about her boyfriend's extraordinary sex drive, “I barely have the strength to go to work in the morning." she said. “Now that he's off on holiday. things will only get worse."

“How long is he off?" the friend asked.

“It varies," she replied, “but usually, time for one cigarette."

______________________________

One morning, a Texan walked up to his savings-and-loan branch office and found it closed. After several minutes of pounding on the door, the manager appeared. "We’re closed!" he shouted through the glass.

“But your sign says you’re open nine to ﬁve," the customer replied.

“Those aren’t our hours. Those are the odds we'll he open tomorrow."

_____________________________

As soon as the famous movie director passed through the pearly gates, Saint Peter told him they had a ﬁlm they wanted him to direct. The director tried to beg off, pleading exhaustion, but Saint Peter explained that this was a very special ﬁlm—the script was by Shakespeare.

The director was tempted for a moment but declined. Then Saint Peter said the art direction would be by Da Vinci. The ﬁlni maker warmed considerably to the project but again decided against it,

“The music will be by Beethoven," Saint Peter added.

“Screenplay by Shakespeare! Production design by Da Vinci! Original score by Beethoven!" the director exclaimed. “I'll do it!"

“There's just one thing." Saint Peter said. “God has this girlfriend who sings. . . ."’

_____________________________

An archaeologist was digging in the Negev Desert in Israel and came upon a casket containing a mummy After examining it, he called the curator Ola prestigious natural-history museum. “I’ve just discovered a three-thousand-year-old mummy of a man who died of heart failure!" the excited scientist exclaimed.

"You can’t know all that from looking at ‘him," the curator replied. “Bring him in. Well see."

A week later, the amazed curator called the archaeologist. "You were right about the mummy’s age and cause of death. How in the world did you know?”

“Easy. There was a piece of paper in his hand that said, “10,000 SHEKELS ON GOLIATH.”

_______________________________

What's the difference between a terrorist and your wife?

You can negotiate with a terrorist.

_________________________

A geneticist believed he had discovered a method for putting the theory oi human cloning into practice. He decided to clone himself ﬁrst. Everything went perfectly except that, through some minor miscalculation. his clone was rude, vulgar and foulmouthed. When he was unable to correct the problem, he threw the offensive clone out his laboratory window. The following day, the scientist was arrested for making an obscene clone fall.

___________________________

A man walked into a Porsche dealership, opened the door of a Boxster, took a seat behind the wheel and smiled. A salesman approached and asked, “Are you thinking about buying this car?”

“Oh, I’m deﬁnitely going to buy this car,” he said, “but I’m thinking about pussy.”

____________________________

Dave arrived in hell and was told he had a decision to make. He could go to capitalist hell or to communist hell. Naturally, Dave wanted to compare the two, so he wandered over to capitalist hell. He asked the ﬁrst man he met, “What’s it like in there?"

“Well, in capitalist hell,” the man replied, “they ﬂay you, boil you in oil, chain you to a rock and slash you with sharp knives.”

“That’s terrible!” gasped Dave. “I’m going to check out communist hell.” There he discovered a huge line of people waiting to get in. He pushed his way through to the head of the line, where he found Karl Marx busily signing in people. Dave asked what communist hell was like.

“In communist hell,” Marx said, “they ﬂay you, boil you in oil, chain you to a rock and slash you with sharp knives.”

“But that’s exactly the same as capitalist hell!" protested Dave.

“True,” sighed Marx, “but sometimes we don’t have oil, and sometimes we don’t have knives.”

_______________________________

What’s the difference between an onion and an accordion?

No one cries when you cut an accordion in half.

_________________________

Billy Bob parked his rig in Florida for a few days before driving back home. He was about to dive into the surf but ﬁgured he’d better check out the alligator situation with the townsfolk. “Nope, no gators here,” a local assured him.

Billy Bob had swum out 50 feet before his brain kicked in again. “Hey, how come there ain’t no gators in here?” he yelled back to the guy onshore.

“Because they’re afraid of the sharks,” came the reply.

_____________________________

The high school student spent most of his afternoons in the basement mixing chemicals. One day his father went down to ﬁnd his son surrounded by racks of test tubes and pounding something into the wall. “Danny, don’t put nails in the wall,” his father admonished.

“It’s not a nail, Dad,” the young man explained. “It’s a worm. I found a formula that turns things as hard as a rock.”

“Tell you what, son,” the man said with sudden interest. “You give me the special formula and I’ll buy you a car.”

The next day when Danny got home from school, he saw two brand-new cars in the driveway. “Dad, what are these?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re for you, son,” his dad said, smiling. “The Toyota’s from me. The Mercedes is from your mother.”

_____________________________

What’s the difference between a dentist and a sadist?

A sadist has newer magazines.

__________________________

The couple had broken up but remained friends as well as neighbors in the same apartment building. Some months after their split, the two met in the elevator. The woman’s ex had his arm in a cast. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked sympathetically.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, would you help me take a bath?”

She agreed, and back at his apartment, she eased him into the tub and began to wash his back. As she lathered his chest she noticed his growing erection. “Now isn’t that sweet,” she cooed. “It still recognizes me.”

___________________________

A lady walked into a tattoo parlor and said, “Can you do a tattoo of a turkey on my right inner thigh and one of a Christmas tree on my left inner thigh?"

“Sure,” the tattoo artist said. “But if you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose those two designs?”

The lady smiled. “My husband,” she explained. “He says there’s never anything to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas!”

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter eight | crab society north

Billy was a bigger guy, one who dwarfed not only both Frank and Scott, but Dan and Charlie as well. The kid had shaved his head and put on a raggedy aged shirt that looked as though it was about to fall right off of his heavy body. And yet, the very second he met eyes with Sam as she stepped out of Frank's car once again, his face lit up and he showed her a little grin; he wore that shirt as if the frigid winds from Lake Ontario did not exist and it was just a regular day.

“Don't see a lot of you 'round a bunch of guys like us,” he remarked in a striking, deep voice.

“Why's that?” she asked him; she held down her dark hair against the cold upstate winds and she shivered a little bit under her coat.

“Not too sure,” he confessed with a squinting of his eyes, “well, and we don't really imagine a bunch of guys like us havin' groupies, either. But anyways—c'mon in. We're all friends here.”

The studio was small and cramped, about the size of someone's living room plus a tiny kitchen that looked to be out of a school cafeteria. A drum kit had been crammed into the far corner of the kitchen; right next to that stood a little amp about the size of a coffee can. Sam and Frank stood on the edge of the room as Charlie, Scott, Dan, and Billy congregated in the kitchen; she shut the door behind them and she caught the sound of a soft click on the inside of the wood.

“If this goes anywhere, we should let Sam I am over here have one of the first copies,” Scott suggested with a flick back of his thick dark hair.

“First copies of a record of a brand new band,” Frank remarked, and he showed her a smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes. “That's like a friendship bracelet of sorts.”

“Or a safe keep of sorts,” she added as she adjusted the strap of her purse. She held her journal underneath her other arm: she still thought about that photograph Frank and Charlie had lent her. She considered drawing it while sitting there on the far edge of the room next to Frank: indeed, there were three small brick red chairs pressed up against the wall. Billy said something from the other room and Charlie scurried into there to tend to something.

“Where's my bass,” Dan muttered.

“It's back here, Danny,” Charlie called out.

“Amazing they can fit a bunch of stuff in here,” Sam commented in a low voice.

“There's a couple of closets back there,” Frank told her with a gesture to the right side of the room. “We've got some instruments stashed in there just in the event of recording. They're kind of crappy, though.”

“Crappy li'l instruments and some cheesy little amps?” she chuckled.

“Exactly! Our label is kind of strapped for cash and other things after all.”

“Do you guys get any other bands through here?”

“Do we ever! You know that one band you kept seeing a couple of times back in Manhattan, Legacy?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“They're an example of one of them who come through here. There's a bunch down in New York City, like Danny's band plus Overkill—and I guess there's a shitload of them over in California, too. Legacy is just one of them.”

She followed his gaze to the wall on the left. There was a little flyer right in the middle of the wall with a line of spiky text reading “METALLICA” in all capital letters. Something about that name caught her attention in particular.

“You lookin' at Metallica?” Frank asked her.

“Yeah.”

“They're badass. All I know about them is they started out with a tape goin' around New York City, called No Life 'Til Leather. I'll have to share it with you at some point—it's pretty rough around the edges but it's powerful, though. They've already got two records out now.”

“Wow, really?” Sam raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, Kill 'Em All and they put out Ride the Lightning just this past summer. They've gone on tour already and everything.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, they're gonna go places. They're gonna take over the world at some point.”

“And you guys are gonna be right there with them?”

“That's our hope. That's Jon's hope, too. We've started building friendships with them.”

“I hope Aurora and I can get to meet them.”

“They live over in San Francisco so we'd have to—make a few phone calls to those guys. James, Kirk, Lars, and Cliff. There was another guy with them—Dave, Dave... Mustaine, I think is his last name? Scott and Charlie both know more about him than I do. All I know is he got fired.”

“For what?”

“Drinking.”

“Must've been a lot,” she quipped.

“Eh, again, you'll have to ask the two of them about it.” The sound of distortion caught their ears, and thus Frank gestured to the chairs over on the other side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he said to her in kind fashion.

Sam took the one on the left, right underneath the Metallica flyer. He took the one right next to her which left the one on the far right vacant. They were given a view into the kitchen, where Scott and Dan had slung their guitars over their shoulders, and Charlie had disappeared into the far corner of the room to tend to the drums. There was a bit of clicking behind the left side of the doorway.

“You gonna set that thing up to record ourselves on?” Scott asked, flabbergasted.

“Yeah, it's all I can find in here,” Billy said, nonplussed. There was a blowing sound, followed by a soft muttering noise.

And then Sam realized he had found a microphone in there for himself. All she could see from him was his elbow and his right leg below the knee, but she could in fact hear him.

“I am the law! I am the law!” His voice was hoarse but strong at the same time. Nothing like Joey's operatic power, but more like a fierce snarl combined with a violent growl. There was something about his voice that entranced her: it was something different and the complete opposite of the clean lovely vocals that came out from Joey's mouth.

Their songs were strangely short, like only a few seconds: the longest one was about a minute, and they all seemed to bleed into each other.

She shuffled her feet underneath her chair.

“So noisy,” she joked to Frank.

“This is the life we chose!” he proclaimed with glee. Scott tried to say something over his own riffing; Sam could hardly hear his own words, except for a few little snippets of his sentiments.

“By the way—Dan—let me say one thing—this doesn't leave the room—not to talk about Anthrax but...”

“But what?” Dan called out to him once he rested his fingers across the fret board of his bass. Scott held onto the pick with his thumb and his index finger and strummed it all over the strings.

“That!” he declared, which coaxed a laugh out of both Billy and Charlie. Frank looked over at her with a twinkle in his eye and one hand inside of his jacket.

“Want a piece of gum?” he offered her.

“Oh, yes please!”

He took out a small pack of gum that made her think of a pack of cigarettes with its red and white lid; he popped it open and gave her a little piece. Even against the musty smell of the room, she could feel the burn of the spearmint on her nose.

“Holy—” she sputtered and coughed a couple of times.

“Yeah, it's strong,” he said, unfazed; he slipped in a piece and she was met with that fresh aroma of spearmint from him.

“Jesus—” Her eyes even began to water a bit.

“I have a little bit of a problem with halitosis,” he confessed. “I've had it for a long time.”

“Why's that?”

He shook his head. “No idea. Charlie thinks it's from genetics, but who knows, really.”

Meanwhile, every song Storm troopers of Death whipped out into the open went onto something that Billy had set up on the counter top in there. Every so often, he leaned over to adjust the thing.

“So there's Crab Society,” Dan remarked at one point as he held one finger across the second fret of his bass. Charlie twirled the drum stick in his right hand and almost let it fall onto the cymbal next to the wall; he caught it by the skin of his pinky and ring fingers and then gripped onto the bass.

“We've got time, though, Danny,” Scott assured him.

“Time for what?”

“Time to name this—thing.”

“What are they even recording on?” Sam asked Frank; he leaned over to look into the room.

“I don't really know,” he confessed in a low voice.

“We kind of are the Crab Society now,” Dan declared with a clearing of his throat: he tapped on the largest string of the bass with his first two fingers.

“Yeah, but we can't really use that name, though,” Charlie pointed out.

“True. We're—Crab Society—North? Given we're upstate and all.”

“North, south, east, and west,” Scott chuckled.

“Which of us is north, south, east, and west, though?” Charlie asked as he attempted another twirl of the drum stick.

“I'll be east,” Scott volunteered, “Danny'll be west.”

“Guess I'll be south, then,” Billy said with a sniffle and a clearing of his throat.

“Why do you get to be south?” Charlie scoffed.

“'Cause you're from the Bronx, Char,” Billy pointed out.

“So I'm north, then!”

“Exactly!”

Sam looked over at Frank and couldn't help but laugh at what she was hearing several feet away from them.

“Welcome to our world, Sam I Am,” he said with a chuckle and a lopsided smile.

“Just a bunch of guys willing to kick back for a little bit while the real thing gets taken care of,” Scott called out with a raise of those thick dark eyebrows.

There was low thump outside the door.

“There he is,” Frank quipped; he climbed to his feet. Whoever tried to come into the building jiggled the doorknob.

“Guys?” Joey's voice rang through the wood of the door.

“Hang on, Joey,” Frank called out; there was another click in the next room there. He tugged on the doorknob but the door itself wouldn't budge.

“Want some help?” Sam offered.

“Please.”

She stood to her feet and set her journal down on the chair in order to assist him: Frank lifted the doorknob itself while Sam clasped her hands onto the backs of his and gave the knob a good yank. The door flung open and Joey stumbled into the room right then: they were met with bright sunlight but a chilly gust of wind as well. His chest was right in her line of sight, but she pressed herself against the wall behind her to let him in there. He took off his mirrored sunglasses to better look at her with those big brown eyes. Stray strands of his jet black curls sprawled down his brow so she could better look into his eyes. Frank shut the door behind him and the wind settled in the room.

“Oh, hi,” he breathed out at the sight of her.

“Hi,” she returned the favor, and she held the journal up to her chest even though they were a foot apart. “How you feelin'?”

“Better—kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, it's—it's gonna be a bit before my body gets back up to right temperature. But I ain't miserable anymore, though.”

“That's good.”

“I had cannoli courtesy of my mom and my grandma,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk on his face.

“Sounds good,” she replied as she ran her hands atop the crown of her head.

“Speaking of goodness, you smell good,” he remarked with a look at her chest.

“Thank me for that!” Frank proclaimed.

“Joey!” Scott declared; he strode out of the room without the guitar over his shoulder. “How'd you know we were here?”

“My dad and I were driving past here and I was like, 'hey, there's Frankie's car,'” Joey replied as he tossed a pocket of his black curls over his shoulder.

“Were you with your dad?” Sam asked him.

“Nah, I was driving behind him. When I pulled over, he pulled over with me and I told him what was going on. I'm a big boy—I can do stuff.” He turned his head for a look over at Scott and Charlie.

“So what'd I miss?” he asked them.

“Kinda doin' our own thing for the remainder of studio time,” Scott replied. “We're callin' it Stormtroopers of Death.”

“Sounds badass and nerdy at the same time. I like it.”

“They were just putting together a demo tape,” Frank told him. “A li'l demo and then maybe something else after that if Jonny gives 'em the green light.”

“And I guess I'm going to get my paws on a first copy of it,” Sam followed up with a tone of excitement.

“Well!” Joey folded his arms across the chest. “Consider it an honor, li'l one.”

“I already do! I hope they go places with the whole thing, too.”

“We're all hard workin' boys,” Charlie declared.

“All workin' hard and then some more,” she added.

“Speaking of more,” he said with a raise of a finger. Charlie doubled back into the kitchen there for something. Billy, who was partially behind the wall, looked over his shoulder at him all the while. Charlie rummaged through the fridge in there, and then he came back with a pair of brown glass bottles of beer, one in each hand.

“Care for a drink?” he offered her, and she hesitated for a second. She was under the drinking age, but it was an offer from him and with a soft look on his round face all the while.

“Thank you,” she said with a little smile and a taking of the bottle in his right hand for herself. The glass was cold and the edges of the cap were sharp against her hand.

“Want a little bit of help?” Frank offered her.

“All I can get.”

“Here—” Charlie handed him his bottle for a second so he could pry off the cap with two fingers. That strong aroma of hops flooded out of there, and made her eyes water more than the spearmint in her piece of gum.

“You want a beer, Joey?” Scott offered.

“You know I do,” Joey chuckled, “I was wantin' Irish coffee this morning when the three of them came to get me, so you know it.”

Sam took out her piece of gum and held it between two fingers. She tipped the bottle back for a sip: the contrast of the spearmint and the hops clashed and she grimaced at the taste.

“That gum, right?” Frank laughed.

“Yeah—” Her stomach turned a bit but she persisted. Indeed, the contrast went away within mere seconds and she was able to take another sip from the mouth.

“Let's go outside for a bit,” Billy suggested.

“Yeah, it's sunny out,” Joey said as he pried off the cap from his bottle. “Kinda windy but at least the clouds've cleared out a li'l bit...” He took a hearty swig from the bottle and followed Billy and Scott out the kitchen. Meanwhile, Frank turned to Sam, who was trying to keep it down but the taste of the beer was so strong and in her face that it was hard to even bring the mouth of the bottle to her lips. He eyed the gum in her fingers.

“You wanna know a little trick?”

“For what?”

“The piece of gum. Kinda roll your fingers a bit so it turns into a little ball. It's a little hard because it's all sticky—” She tried it out regardless, and it stuck to her skin at first. “—keep going, keep going, keep going... there you go. Now put it behind your ear like Violet Beauregarde.”

“Don't forget it's there, either,” Charlie advised her as he took a swig from his bottle. “One of my sisters did that once and my mom had to cut it out with scissors.”

She tossed her hair over her head, and then she stuck the little wad of gum behind her right ear for safe keeping. It stuck to her skin and she knew she could go back to it within time.

“So we wanna go outside?” Frank asked them.

“If you wanna,” Charlie told him, “I'm actually kinda cold right now.”

“Cold, even after pounding away on those drums,” she remarked as she tilted her head to the left to keep her hair off the side of her head.

“I'm pretty sure Charlie was born with drum sticks in hand and without pores in his skin,” Frank joked, which brought an eye roll out of Charlie.

“So d'you draw something?” he asked Sam.

“I haven't been able to,” she confessed as she held the bottle closer to her chest. “I've just been so—enthralled by what was going on in here. You're a natural!”

“Me? Well, I dunno 'bout that...”

“I also don't know what I did with that picture of you guys, either.”

“I think it's out in the car,” Frank recalled, “I'll be right back.” He doubled back to the front door, which had been jammed stuck again. “Help me out here, Charlie.”

Charlie himself met up with him to lift up the door.

“Yet another thing this place needs,” he muttered as he held onto the knob with his free hand, “among other things. It's one thing when Billy gets it open, though.” The door swung open and Frank stepped outside.

Sam meanwhile, caught the sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She stood in the kitchen doorway to find a small cramped space, crammed full with Charlie's drum kit, those dusty guitars and bass, and that microphone the size of her hand, the latter of which Billy had placed on the counter top right next to a walkman. That was what they recorded the demo on. She turned her attention to the door on the other side of the room, which hung open even with the cool upstate winds. She made her way over to it to see the back of Joey's head: he had taken a seat on the back step there.

His hair was lush, and looked even more so there in the hazy afternoon sun. Sam could make out the sight of little glints of gold embedded in the curls at the back of his head. Combined with the darkness of his roots, his hair was thick and swirled like a psychedelic drawing. She imagined it being like a dense forest, a whole stretch of thick shrubs coupled with those tall slender dark trees in the dark earth. She tried to picture it soaking wet following a shower, all sweet smelling and delicate.

Joey gave his hair a toss over his shoulder, which only accentuated the coarsest of curls on his back. Sam thought of vines dangling down from tree branches.

He leaned over his slender thighs and rested his elbows on his narrow knees. She eyed his slim waist from behind there. He was almost delicate, especially since she got a better look at him there: he did not have his microphone in hand that time, and he was at an odd angle to boot.

She hung there in the doorway with her free hand on the edge of the threshold and she kept her eye on the gentle shape of his shoulder and his upper arm. The fingers of his left hand curled around his right elbow and he shivered from the incoming fog. Joey bowed his head a bit and she could make out the shape of the bottle in his hand.

“Sam?” Charlie called out. She returned to the main room to find him with the photograph in hand.

“Ah! Thank you!” She took the photograph for herself and crossed the floor to the chairs. She tucked the photograph into her journal and returned to them.

“Not really the best place for drawing, though, from what I can see,” Frank pointed out.

“Yeah, talk about uncomfortable,” Charlie nodded his head. “By the way, Frankie and I were just talking a little bit out there—if Stormtroopers of Death go anywhere, we oughtta give you something to do, seeing as you sat in with us on the recording process. The whole entire hour and whatnot.”

“Oh, wow, I wouldn't know the first thing of what to do,” she confessed as she took another sip of beer. A little better that time: the hoppy taste wasn't so pungent and in her face, but it still hit her tongue more than the spearmint.

“You could sit in with us on tour dates for Anthrax and Storm troopers.”

“How does one open for themselves?” she asked him.

“You've—got to be on top of it all?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at that. “One state of mind versus the other, I s'pose. Something we'd have to figure out. And it can be something to show your school counselors, too!”

Scott burst out laughing right then and Billy said something.

“Hey, Frankie!” Joey called out from the kitchen doorway.

“What's up?” Frank hurried in there to see what was the matter. Charlie returned to her.

“By the way, Joey was right—it is nice outside. Kinda chilly but not a cloud in the sky now. Wanna take a walk?”

“I'd love to take a walk,” she said, and without another word, the two of them filed out of there into the bright, crisp afternoon: the sun was beginning to hang low over the horizon before them. He walked at a slow pace so they could be side by side on the little dirt pathway along the side of the street. Lucky for her, the wind kept her hair on the side of her head, thus off of the piece of gum behind her ear. Charlie pushed a thick lock of his own hair off of his face in the meantime.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked her at one point.

“Um—sure? Is it important?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Okay.”

He then cleared his throat, but he never said anything after that. They reached a curve in the road, one lined with a series of tall trees that blocked out some of the more intense of the winds.

“Sam, we've only known each other for a little more than a week, but I feel like I've known you for years,” he confessed at a quick clip.

“It's funny, I—feel the same way about you, too.” She turned her head to look at him; the orange light from the late afternoon sun washed over the side of his face.

A gust of cold wind sent a chill down her spine, and he inched closer to her.

“I mean, think about it,” he started again. “We're both artists. Artists look out for each other and stick together. It only makes sense that we officially call ourselves friends for each other.”

Sam had no idea if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that she came to New York with a fresh new slate and it all started happening so fast, but her head began to spin a little bit from the feeling. She even had to stop in her tracks to gather herself.

“You alright?”

“I'm a little bit dizzy—this is all starting to feel like a dream.”

“I assure you it's the real thing.”

She lifted her gaze to his face, partially obscured in shadow courtesy of the sun: the light made it seem as though he had a halo around the crown of his head. She had a friend in Aurora and now, a friend in Charlie.

“Friends forever,” she said with a raise of her bottle.

“Friends forever,” he replied and he brought his bottle to his for a toast. The bottles made a clink noise and they took a drink in unison: she took another sip compared to his hearty swig. “I'm sure Frankie'd wanna join in on that, too. And I think it’s just the heat of the moment, but I really wanna watch you draw now.”

#fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #chapter 8 #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #stormtroopers of death #charlie benante #frank bello #scott ian #billy milano #joey belladonna #new chapter #also on ao3 #ao3 fic #writing #text

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queen--kenobi · 4 years

Text

Triple Trouble (Part I)

Inspired by @bloodybrahms idea of Danny stealing the reader away from Billy and Stu

Warnings: lots of violence and murder, manipulation

The heat is almost oppressive. It doesn’t help the cheap air conditioning unit in your apartment is busted, making your apartment even more unbearable. For a moment, you regret not having taken Stu open on his offer. He’d offered to get you an apartment that, while farther away from campus, would have been much more lavish and expensive. Knowing him, the rent would be astronomical. He had come to except a certain way of living.

You couldn’t accept, knowing what was coming.

Billy and Stu had been your first loves. It might seem funny to most, having two people as your first loves, but Billy and Stu were basically one person with how much time they spent with each other. The two of them had dated people independently, but it was pretty much an unstated fact that you didn’t date one or the other. You dated both of them at the same time. It just tended to be a matter of how long it took for them to bring up the idea.

The phone rings.

The sudden sound interrupting your thoughts causes you to jump. For a moment, your heart hammers in your chest. You swallow hard. Slowly, you scan around your tiny apartment. No one seemed to be there, so you went over to the phone and grabbed it.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” You nearly sigh in relief. The voice on the line is Randy, and you weren’t asked the infamous question.

“Hey, Randy.”

“Are you okay?” His concern is evident, even through the bad connection. “I saw Stu and Billy today, outside of my Art History lecture. They both seemed pretty upset, and I know you had just changed your phone number, and I just wan-”

“I’m fine, Randy.” You resist the urge to laugh. “Just, you know, living out an old troupe.”

“Girl goes off to college and breaks it off with her boyfriend? Or well, boyfriends?” While his tone is meant to be flippant, you can still tell he’s worried. You nod.

“Yeah, something like that.” You taste bitter, and your stomach churns at why exactly you did what you did. “I-”

“Look, you don’t have to justify it to me.” Randy interrupts quickly. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re, you know, alright.” The unspoken words linger in the air. You sigh.

“I’m fine. I mean... I’ll be okay. That’s why I told you I changed my number, just in case-” You stop, letting out another sigh. You and Randy had a running joke about how people who pissed off Billy or Stu seemed to go missing randomly, oftentimes turning up dead in brutal ways. The police were never able to pin it on the two, partially due to the amount of money Stu’s family had. The joke was a way for both of you to cope with the loss of several close friends.

Bile rises in your throat.

It had been a joke, until someone confirmed it for you.

You’d gotten a letter not too long ago. No return address or any sort of markings. Just a plain envelope filled with several stacks of pictures. It’d been slipped under your apartment door. Well, your old apartment. You’d made quiet arrangement to move once you’d seen the contents of the letter. Multiple quiet arrangements. You transferred to another college, moved to a new apartment, changed your phone number, and several other different measures to make sure you were safe.

Staying where you were after breaking up with two killers was just asking to get murdered.

The photos, those glossy photos, showed a disgusting scene. Both of your... you didn’t know what to call them. Both of your exs seemed the best fit. The two of them together, clad in the iconic Ghostface robes. Billy had a knife, and the steel blade was dripping with blood. Stu was squatting down beside the victim, clearly making fun of them. You didn’t see who the victim was. Not that you wanted to. All you saw was an eviscerated corpse with your two boyfriends acting like... No, as. Acting as the animals they were.

You had gone through the photos several times to make sure they were real. You came to the conclusion that they couldn’t have been faked. Billy and Stu clearly killed these people.

Yes. People.

The photos had come in four bundles, each with a different victim but the same two killers. One was just Billy alone, but the other three had the both of them. One set even showed them killing Blake, a guy who had gotten a little too friendly with you and disappeared. The knowledge that you had accidentally signed someone’s death warrant still made you sick to your stomach.

“Listen. I want to know what happened, but you don’t have to say anything. Just, check in with me. Please?”

“Absolutely, Randy.” You were glad he couldn’t see your face, see your somber expression. “I will.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before you hung up the phone. You stood in your empty apartment for several seconds before it all hit you. You slid down to the floor, shaking and crying, finally letting out all your emotions. What a fucking nightmare this was going to be.

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

You woke up, much cooler and sore. Your eyes felt dry, and your head was thumping. You shifted, moving away from the cabinet.

“Huh.” You murmur, your voice crackling. You must have cried so hard you feel asleep. Slowly, you moved to sit on your heels. From there, you began to get up. It hurts to move, but the floor hurts more. It’s dark inside your tiny little apartment. You hadn’t turned on the lights, so the sun coming in from the open curtains had been the only thing lighting your new living space. A little bit of light was provided from a street light and some neon signs.

You get up. You grab a glass. You fill it with water from the tap. Your movements are slow and methodical. You go to your cabinet. You open it up. You grab a bottle of pain killers. Everything felt automated, as if you were a machine. That was fine by you. If you were a machine, that was good. That meant you couldn’t feel any sort of human emotions, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You liked feeling nothing.

You take a pill out and wash it down with the water. Hopefully that would help with your headache. You place the glass gently down on the counter and press your forehead against the cabinet faces. You breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.

You needed to figure out what to do. You probably needed to call the police, let them know what you saw. Hand the photos over as evidence.

But you didn’t want to. Namely because you weren’t sure if you were safe yet. No sense in handing that over if you didn’t know you were safe.

The phone rings.

You swear loudly, knocking your glass to the floor as you jump. The crash of the glass and ringing off the phone seem deafening in the silence.

You listen to the little voice in your head and grab a weapon. You’d stored plenty of potential weapons in secret spaces throughout the new apartment to be safe. Your hands close around the handle of the cleaver you’d hidden.

“Hello?” Your voice doesn’t shake when you answer it.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The phone on the other end mocks you.

Fear floods your system, and your eyes begin scanning the apartment. You knew how the Gho- how Billy and Stu worked. They were in the apartment with you.

“Why don’t you tell me?” You challenge. Part of you wants to believe that maybe it’s not Billy or Stu. They would know the answer or mock you for your reply.

“You like revenge movies?”

“What?” You miss the light switch you’re trying to turn on. That was never something you’d discussed with your exs. Revenge movies were always Billy’s thing, never yours. At least, that’s what the boys thought.

“A little birdy told me that your favorite horror movie is Hellraiser.” The voice says. “Little birdy also told me it’s because you identified with Kirsty Cotton.” You can’t see any movement. Your hand tightens around the handle of the cleaver.

“Who are you?” You feel stupid asking the question, so you follow it up quickly. “You’re not Billy or Stu.” You made a point to never tell them that. The two had been so protective of you that you didn’t like letting them in on the secret that you had been abused.

“No.” A chuckle. “I’m not. I’m someone even better, Kirsty.” You bristle at the name.

“Oh? If I’m Kirsty, who does that make you?” You challenge. The person on the other line hums.

“You know, you aren’t very good at bargaining. That’s something Kirsty is supposed to be good at, right? I didn’t pay much attention to the movie. Your reactions were much more fun.”

“I can’t bargain if I don’t know where to start.” Again, you scan the room. Your brain begins working on the clues the mysterious person has given you, trying to piece things together.

“You do. Just think about it. If it helps, I’m not the Frank to your Kirsty. That’s Billy and Stu. I bet you want to see them get ripped to shreds right now, don’t you? I know I would.”

“So, what? You’re the Pinhead to my Kirsty? You want me to bargain their lives for mine?”

“Oh, we’re past that now. I’ve already got them where I want them.” Your brain finally latches on to something solid, a clue they’ve given away.

“You want me to watch you torture them?”

“Closer.” The voice sounds pleased. “I was thinking more of an active participant.”

“The fuck is that su-” You stop. You heard a noise. The faintest squeak of hinges. You set the phone down onto the counter. You don’t know whether to go towards the noise or run from it. The cleaver feels heavy in your hands.

“Fuck it.” You growl. Carefully, you begin slinking around the kitchen island, away from the noise. They’re probably expecting you to go towards it. You will. Eventually. Right now, you want to sneak up on them if you can.

A flash of light startles you, blinds you. You nearly drop the clever. A sound follows, like shutters of a camera closing. Your hands instinctively go up to shield your face from the glare when you see another flash, this one seemingly closer.

It was closer. The next moment, you feel one hand take away the clever and the other wrap around your throat. A thud tells you whoever this is threw the weapon somewhere else before they start choking you with both hands, applying pressure in a way that lets you know they’ve done this before.

“Night night, Kirsty.” A man says. “I’ll see you later.”

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

Beep

The repetitive sound is the first thing you hear. It comes to you before your vision does. Your eyes feel heavy, and they don’t want to open. You manage, though. The ceiling you’re staring at is white and blank.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” You hear your mother, when did your mother get here?, say. She starts sobbing almost violently. You feel her hands pulling you as close to her as they can while trying not to disturb you. You wince as pain shoots through you, and she lets you go, apologizing. Faintly, you hear your dad talking to you.

“Wha--” Your mouth is dry and feels like cotton. “What happened?” You don’t need to ask where you are; the beeping gave it away. You try to move up onto your elbows and nearly shriek. The pain sent through your body hurt like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Both of your parents quickly help you up into a more comfortable position, moving the bed so you can sit up. You can now see your torso, covered in bandages. You make a distressed noise. Your mom pulls you close again, cradling you as best you can. She’s crying so hard that she can’t speak, so your dad does it for her.

“The Ghostface attacked you.” His words are matter-of-fact, but his tone does hold a deep sorrow. “He- he beat you and took pictures of you unconscious, and put the photos on you, and then he called the police.” He clears his throat. You finish it for him.

“Are they already waiting to speak to me?” You don’t say the unspoken, the question of what made you special. He nods. You turn your head enough to see his face, and the sorrow all over it makes you start to tear up. He reaches out and takes your free hand.

“Your mom and I... We thought we had lost you. Don’t scare us like that again, okay?” He tries to weakly smile at his own joke. You nod, tears beginning to fall freely now.

“I won’t.” You promise. The moment seems like it should hold, as if the three of you should stay there and hold each other and cry. But it doesn’t. A loud commotion from the hall catches your attention. You move, ignoring the wracking pains shooting through your body. Yelling and screaming can be heard. Your parents both turn to the doorway. Through the glass, you can see officers fighting with someone, trying to calm them down. Whatever they’re saying doesn’t make sense, words jumbled together.

Finally, the door bursts open.

Both Stu and Billy run into the room. They run over to the other side of your bed, Stu climbing into the bed with you. Billy keeps off the bed, but his eyes are red from crying.

“Holy shit, you’re alive. You’re alive.” Stu murmurs to you, moving as close to you as he can. His words cause your mom to sob again. You look over to Billy. He looks so sad and angry that, for a moment, you feel sorry for the poor bastard who put you here.

“Stu got us here as fast as he could.” Billy puts his hands in his pockets, clearly unsure of what to do.

“Not leaving us again.” You feel Stu mutter into your hair. You want to laugh at his actions, but you can’t. All you can think about are those glossy photos, blood spattering the both of them. Bile rises in your throat, and you try to shove both Stu and your mom off you as fast as you can. Your mom seems to know what you want. She pulls away and within seconds, she’s pulled a trashcan over. You lean over it and puke. It’s more dry-heaving than anything, but it’s enough that Stu moves to stand beside Billy. The door is still open, and you can see a cop standing there. A nurse comes in and brings you water, shooing Billy and Stu out.

The nurse gets you settled. You can tell she’s waiting to ask something.

“Do the police want to question me?” You croak.

“Yes.” She nods. You nod in return, letting her know you’re ready. Your parents talk to you, keeping their voices soft, while she gets the police. Two cops come in and begin. It’s routine questioning. What surprises you is that they don’t talk about the photos of Billy and Stu. You become more and more confused. Surely they’d want to talk to you about it?

You get your answer in the form of another envelope. It’s the same one that those cursed images had come in, but it’s different. Surprisingly neat hand-writing covers it.

Only two.

You blink, looking at it.

“Do you know what it means?” The first cop asks.

“No. I don’t.”

#Triple Trouble #Danny Johnson x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #ghostface x reader #I'm making this multiple parts because fuck it'd be long otherwise #Reader insert

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babyspiderling · 4 years

Text

The Moonwalker and the Time-Traveler Prologue

California, 2020

“Ms. L/N, I suggest you wake up for my class if you want to pass this course.” I blink up at my professor, it seems that I fell asleep during history class again. “I’m sorry Professor Berkley, I was up all last night with my roommate tinkering all night.” At that he softens, a grandfatherly look in his eye. “Oh Y/N, I understand, but if you truly want to be a history major, you have to stay awake! I will not simply give you a free pass while trying to adjust, just please, try to stay awake in my class.” Standing, I nod. “Yes sir. I’ll do my best.” After this, I am dismissed and head back to my dorm room to hopefully catch a nap.

Kicking the door shut, I move to collapse onto my bed, but am blocked by whatever my engineering major roommate has built in the dorm for his latest project. “Seriously dude? Don’t you have a lab for this kind of stuff?” I kick off my shoes and do my best to move around it, finally, truly collapsing onto my bed. I fall asleep quickly, hopefully revisiting the dream I had during class.

Lord knows how much later, I wake up to my roommate continuing to tinker on his project. Grumbling under my pillow, “Danny, don’t you have a lab for this shit? Why do you have to do it here, I’m sleeping in classes because of this!” He sheepishly lifts his head up to respond. “Uh, well, I uh… It’satimemachine.” Snapping my head up, I question “It’s a what?” Once again he looks shy and guilty. “It’s a, uh, Time Machine. Or at least that’s what I’m wanting it to be. I’m still working on it.” Well, I’m definitely awake now. “So, like, what’s the problem?” Finally putting down his tools, Danny turns to me, “It should work. I ran the simulations and used the one that worked. It’s just… not connecting I guess.” Glancing at the clock, it’s getting late. “Look Danny, I’m going to clean up some of my stuff. Go get some food. I know you haven’t eaten yet.” With a defeated sigh, Danny agrees and leaves the room. I slip into a pair of shorts and an old David Bowie tour shirt I had found at a thrift store. Picking up things here and there, folding abandoned pieces of laundry, I hum and bop around the room, dancing along to “Working Day and Night”, practicing turns and isolations to the beat. Taking a deep breath I prep and spin as fast and as long as I can, but my foot slips out from under me. I tumble to the floor, tripping over some cord. Oh well, it’s probably Danny's “mood lighting”, I plug it in and decide to check out the “Time Machine”. “Ground Control to Major Tom! Prepare for lift-off!” I press random buttons, dicking around and typing 1984, then some other buttons. “Huh, sucks it really doesn’t work. It’d be cool if you really could time travel.” Once again I trip over Danny’s junk on the floor of the project and slam into one last button I had yet to press. On the way down I hit my head, and the world went black as a whirring sound filled my ears.

Waking up, I find myself in a room about the size of mine, decorated much like my side of the dorm, with a funky retro feeling to it. “Danny, this isn’t funny, I get it, I’m gullible for believing the machine was real. Now how the Hell did you change all this so quick… and get rid of the machine?” I continue searching the room for Danny, and realise that the sun had already risen hours ago. I may have been out for longer than I thought, and come crashing into a body. Awesome! Now I can really teach that boy a lesson for pulling that. “Hey, what are you doing in my dorm? Nice shirt by the way, I was at the Anaheim show a couple months ago. That’s where you got the shirt, right?” I blink at the guy my age, still processing the amount of denim and hair products he has decided to use for the day. “What? Oh, uh, my shirt. Wait, did you say you saw him in Anaheim a couple months ago? What year are you from?” He knits his brows together. “1984. Are you ok? Did you get a bad hit or something? Do I need to call someone for you?” I space myself from him, the stimulation of this whole situation too much. “No, no I’m ok. What’s today’s date?” His eyes are still filled with concern as he replies with January 26th 1984, and that I’m still at University of Redlands, just 36 years before I attend. “Wait, January 26th, why does that sound so familiar? I hear Beat It blare down the hall and I can practically see the light bulb above my head. “Do you know how to get to the Shrine Auditorium?”

We zip down the highway on Tyler’s motorcycle, making a trip down to L.A. He had me explain my whole ordeal to him before he just drove me to a random concert venue. It took a bit to convince him, but the second I pulled my smartphone out he was on board. He pulls off to a strip mall and helps me dismount. “Wait, why are we at a mall? I need to get to that venue before security secures it.” He just rolls his eyes. “If you want to get in and stay in without too much attention, you need to look a little bit different. Time to fit in.” He drags me into store after store, and I finally piece together a “Bad” inspired outfit. A black crop top slips off one shoulder, leather pants pull tight around my legs and hips, a blood red leather jacket drapes my shoulders, and matching leather boots clutch my feet. “Tyler, this is too much. I can’t even pay you back.” He rolls his eyes and pays for the clothes, letting me keep my own hoops and rings. “Look, just meeting a time traveler is cool, dressing one is even better. When you get back home and you still want to pay me back, we’ll figure it out. Let’s get you to the moonwalker himself.”

As we pull into the parking lot for the venue, there isn’t another soul in sight. “Hey, here’s my address, if you ever want to mail me, or just let me know that you’re doing ok.” He hands me a slip of paper, and I hug him tightly. “Thank you Tyler, I am forever in your debt. If you’re anywhere near the university in 2020, let me know.” With that, he rides back home into the sunset, and I sneak into the venue before security shows up.

It’s a good thing I like the song Billie Jean, because I have heard it about 72 times in the last hour. During sound check alone I almost lost my mind, with just the baseline intro playing for 30 minutes. As I hear the cue from the director that it is time to actually film the commercial. I hear “Take One!” in the distance and I ditch my jacket behind a stack of crates, my phone hidden in the pocket. I find the side entrance of the stage as take 3 is anounced. I crouch down in a runners position at take 5, launching myself at take 6. Michael nears the pyrotechnic and I slam my body into his as it goes off, now missing him by inches. There are screams of terror and shock as we fly through the air, now spun so that I land on my back, Michael on top of me. His brothers quickly help him up and off of me as I am seized by security, doing my best to put as little weight on my now injured ankle as possible. I raise my hands in surrender, trying to think my way out of this. “Look! Look, I can explain all of this, including how I knew that this take wasn’t going to go well. Let me explain and I will never try to contact any of you again!” Everyone around me exchanges glances, deciding whether to trust me or not. Tito steps forward, his eyes full of scrutiny. “Alright girl, explain.” I sigh and grimace in pain. “I can’t do it out here. Too many people. And my evidence of my claims are in my jacket backstage.” He glances back at Michael, nodding in response to his younger brother. I am escorted backstage, am allowed to sit down to relieve my ankle, and I start my story. “I’m from the future, 36 years in the future to be a bit more specific. I’m not crazy.” Michael crouches down in front of me, “If you’re really a time traveler I would love to talk about the future with you!” He’s nudged and given a look from his older brothers, and his smile is dimmed a bit. “But if you’re from the future, wouldn’t you know songs I haven’t released yet?” I nod my head, but I get hit with the issue of Thriller already being released and the “Bad” sessions not yet started for at least another 6 months, if not more. I flip through the collection of Michael songs I know by heart, trying to find one he’s recorded but not yet released. “Oh! I know about “Love never felt so good”! The one you recorded with Paul Anka! I can sing it for you!” I start at the chorus, my brain too frazzled to remember it’s entirety. Everyone else who knows about the song exchanges looks, one brother even shouting questions of how I knew it. “It’s on my phone, and I’m from the future. All your music’s been released. Well, almost all of it. There’s still tracks from your upcoming session that I have yet to find. Here, I can show you.” Lifting myself from my seat, I reach to retrieve my jacket from behind the crates. Everyone watches me with baited breath, wanting to see what the time traveler will pull out next. I pull out my phone and search for the Xscape album. I press play on the original track and Michael's voice rings out from the speaker. I switch it up to “Working Day and Night”, what I was listening to before I got here.

“Look, I can play you anything you’ve already recorded. I just can’t play you anything you haven’t done yet. Those are the rules.” Michael escorts me back to his dressing room to ask me questions about the future since I am no longer seen as crazy. “Are there flying cars ? What about people living in space? Are there aliens?” I giggle at his excitement. “Well, we do have people living in space, it isn’t commercialized yet, so you and I couldn’t go. We don’t have flying cars, but we do have self driving ones. And there are no known aliens yet. Music is accessible though. If I had any service in 1984, I could play you any song any time from anyone. I could listen to “Wanna be Startin Somethin’” for 3 days straight if I wanted to. All I’d have to do is type it in and press play.” His eyes sparkle in awe of the future. He opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Jermaine and another man enters the room before he can get a word out, “Come on Mike, we need to finish the commercial. This is an EMT we had on site, he’s here to fix her ankle.” As Michael leaves his seat, I grab his hand. “Please, don’t let them turn the pyrotechnics back on. Please.” He nods and pats my hand before leaving the room. The EMT removes my new boots and my ankle swells before my eyes, no longer constrained in the tight leather. We make small talk as he works until the commercial is done recording.

#80's imagine #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson #michael jackson imagine #80's x reader #series #80's series #80's fanfiction #time travel au

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clintbartonswife · 4 years

Text

singing softly

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes Summary: 5 times Bucky sang to Steve + one time Steve returned the favour Notes: (minor) character death, mentions of illness, Made for @panicfob anniversary challenge, with the prompt “Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt.” List of songs at the end:) masterlist

1. (1925)

Wet coughs were muffled with small, pale hands.

Bucky had been there since early morning, ever since the news had spread that the Roger’s boy was sick again, only ever letting go of Steve’s hand to wet the rag that he gently wiped across the blond’s sweaty forehead.

Sarah looked in on the two silently from the doorway, eyes creasing in concern for her only child. He had caught the flu again, the cold weather outside grating on his fragile lungs more than he could handle.

But Bucky, the boy was a mystery to Sarah. Ever since they had met two years ago, the eight-year-olds had been inseparable, much to her surprise. Bucky was a tall, strong boy, and most like him had shunned Steve for his small and sickly nature. Not Bucky. No, that seemed to make the brunet almost more protective of Steve than he was his sisters, always saving his from playground fights.

“Of all the money that e'er I spent, I spent it in good company”

Sarah blinked out of her thoughts as Bucky’s soft voice broke the silence, the boy focusing solely on Steve as he stroked his hair out of his face, one pale hand moving to rest over Bucky’s chest.

“And all the harm that ever I did, Alas it was to none but me”

He was feeling the vibrations, Sarah figured, a small smile pulling at her lips as she watched them. A bond that close was all she could ever wish for her child. It would outlast her, that she was sure of.

2. (1933)

The funeral was a quiet affair.

Sarah Roger’s friends from church attended the ceremony, along with a few of the nurses who shared her shift and - of course - the Barnes family. Steve was sure they had been giving him their regards, but he heard none of them.

He just stood there, staring as the coffin was lowered gently into the grave, yearning to hold Bucky’s hand.

Later that night, back in the too-empty apartment, Bucky held him to his chest as they lay together in bed, running a soothing hand up and down the smaller man’s back.

“She’s gone”

He sounded so desolate, so hopeless, that it almost made Bucky cry. The brunet just murmured his acknowledgement, tightening his hold even more.

“It hurts. I - Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt”

Bucky’s heart squeezed painfully, his hand moving to cup the back of Steve’s neck, “Just keep breathing” he eventually said, “It doesn't ever go away but I’ll be here to help lessen it every day - I promise”

Steve just nodded, letting silence fall over them again for a few more minutes.

“Buck” Steve whispered, forehead resting against his collarbone, “sing for me?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before clearing his throat,

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling-”

As Bucky’s soothing voice filled the room, Steve began to gently sob, the Irish melody easing the pain in his chest, even if only for a moment. He stayed wrapped in strong arms the whole time, the feeling of safety and protection only growing as his crying began to fade out.

Bucky watched him with soft eyes, hands moving upwards to stroke through his hair as the younger boy began to doze off to the sound of his voice.

“For you shall bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me”

The tell-tale sounds of Steve’s relaxed breathing made Bucky smile, glad that the distraught boy had finally managed to fall asleep.

3. (1937)

“C’mon Stevie” Bucky groaned, collapsing onto the sofa, “it’s your birthday, we gotta do something!”

Steve smirked at the bratty behaviour, crossing his arms, “We don't gotta do anything, Buck”

“But it’s your 21st!” Bucky said, waving his arms around as if the notion was ridiculous, “It’s a special one! Anything you want - just say it and we’ll do it”

Steve raised an eyebrow, steeping in-between Bucky’s legs, gaining the brunet’s attention.

“Anything?”

Bucky nodded hesitantly, eyes darkening as he watched Steve lean down so that their faces were mere inches apart.

“Dance with me. Just us, in this apartment” he said simply, “That’s what I want”

“You’re a tease Steven Rogers” Bucky grinned, jumping up off of the sofa with joyful exuberance before offering the shorter boy his hand, “Would you do m the honour of dancin’ with me?”

Steve chuckled, quickly walking over to set the needle on the bust-up grammar phone before heading back to Bucky, accepting his hand.

The two swayed gently to the soft tones of Billie Holiday ‘If You Were Mine’, Steve’s head moving to rest gently on the dip of Bucky’s collar bone, a place Bucky had secretly reserved for him.

Roughly halfway through the song, Steve closed his eyes, the vibrations of Bucky singing along to the music creating a unique comforting sensation that he wished he could save forever.

“If you were mine, I would live for your love alone”

The atmosphere changed as Bucky’s cheek moved to rest against the top of Steve’s head, the words resonating with the two young men more than they thought was possible.

“To kneel at your shrine, I would give up all that I own”

Steve moved then, tilting his head up so that their noses were only a breaths-width away from touching.

“Buck-”

Before he could voice his thoughts, Bucky’s lips were connecting with his, soft and slow, their bodies still swaying slowly in time to the music.

“Even my life, I’d trade it all for you, And think I was lucky too, If you were mine”

4. (1940)

“Buck?”

The apartment was quiet - too quiet for Steve’s liking - especially as Bucky should’ve come home from the docks an hour ago. Frowning, Steve carried on walking to the kitchen, only to find an ashen-faced Bucky clutching a letter in his hand.

“Buck?” Steve repeated, his voice seemingly snapping the brunet out of his stupor.

“Oh - sorry, doll. I didn't hear you come in” Bucky said, shoving the letter in his pocket and standing up to pull Steve into a hug, hands still shaking slightly, “Must’ve overworked myself today at the docks”

Steve accepted the hug, trying his best to soothe his boyfriend, before pulling back just enough to see his face.

“What’s this really about?”

The older man’s face dropped, releasing a wavering sigh before sitting down heavily on one of the dining chairs, gesturing for Steve to do the same. He pulled out the letter from before and passed it to Steve, eyes full of barely-restrained dread.

“I don't understand -” Steve said, looking over the letter, before a icy dagger of fear went through his chest, “Oh Bucky”

“I’ve been drafted” he said, voice tight, “Sargent Barnes of the 107th”

“I - I’ve got to - to sign up. I’ll come with you”

“Steve no-”

“I’ll go to the pop-up, down by the bakers - tomorrow. We can - we can figure this out”

By now he was sounding hysterical even to himself, Bucky moving out of his chair to kneel in front of Steve, taking his hands in his own.

“No, Steve. No. I need you to be safe. Please. At least when I have to go I’ll do it knowing I’ll be keeping you safe”

That finally ripped a sob from Steve, who shook his head madly and gripped onto his hands even tighter.

“How long?”

“Two weeks and I’m off to England”

Another sob was torn from Steve’s throat, Bucky quickly moving to wrap Steve in up his arms, cradling his small body and rocking back and forth. At a loss of what else to do, Bucky wiped his own tears from his eyes before shakily beginning to sing one of their favourite songs.

“Till the end of time, long as stars are in the blue, long as there’s a spring, a bird to sing, I’ll go on loving you”

Steve shifted in his lap, pressing his cheek firmly to Bucky’s chest as his sobbing died down slightly, moving his arms to wrap around Bucky’s waist.

“You promise?”

His voice was quiet, almost reluctant, muffled against the scratchy material of Bucky’s work shirt. Nevertheless, Bucky caught it, immediately halting his singing and moving Steve so that they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“Promise Stevie, no one’s ever gonna replace you”

“And you’ll come home?”

“I’ll fight like hell to”

5. (1941)

“We can take a break here for a few hours, tend to the wounded” Steve announced, “We should be far away enough by now”

Bucky felt like he was going insane. He should be dead, strapped to that medical table, yet here he is, following Steve - his Stevie - out of hell, while he looks like he’s been pumped with a thousand different kinds of steroids.

A light pressure on his back moved him away from the mass of soldier’s, the smell reassuring him that he was safe, that it was just Steve.

“You okay Buck?”

He scoffed, looking up - he had to look up - to meet his eyes, “I don't think I’m the one who should be answering that question right now”

“Buck-”

“You promised me you’d stay home, Stevie”

“If I had you could’ve died in there -”

“At least you would’ve been safe!”

The blond dropped his head in defeat, his whole body radiating his silent apology.

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing you were fighting out here while I was just sat at home”

A bitter chuckle, hand reaching up to cup the side of his neck, “You’ve never been able to do that, huh”

“I knew I couldn't let you fight alone, Buck” Steve admitted quietly, still looking down, “And I’m glad I didn't. Seeing you on that table-”

“I know” Bucky breathed, pulling the blond into a firm hug - the most he could do while they were this much in the open, “we’ll talk more when we get back to base, okay?”

Steve just nodded, straightening his posture before stepping out of the hug, his Captain persona firmly back on.

“I can wait”

Roughly 12 hours later, the rag-tag group arrived back to camp to cheers of ‘Captain America!’, a very pretty brunette (that Bucky was not jealous of at all) greeting Steve with a proud smile.

By the time they were allowed to go to the barracks - ‘Bucky’s staying with me, sir, he was in bad shape and I’d like to keep an eye on him’ - the older man was well and truly exhausted.

“So - Peggy”

Steve sighed, running his hands over his face dramatically, “It’s not like that”

“Sure pal”

“No. Really” Steve insisted, grabbing Bucky’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “It’s not like that”

Bucky hummed, climbing into the bed with a well-practice air of blasé.

“Buck, I swear it” Steve said, voice quiet, “I missed you so much”

“You wouldn’t have to hide with her”

“What?”

“Peggy. You wouldn't have to hide with Peggy”

A small sad sound came from behind him, followed by a sudden shoot of movement as Steve climbed on to the bed with Bucky, his newly-enlarged form swamping the man with his hug as he was pulled into a strong chest.

“But I don't love her. I love you, you know this”

As soon as the first tear escaped Bucky’s eye he knew he was fucked, his hand reaching up to gran on to Steve’s arm.

“I don't know what they did to me Steve. I don't - I don't know what they did and I don't know if I can protect you anymore”

“You don't need to protect me anymore” the blond said, truthfulness radiating from every pore, “I can help myself now. We can protect each other”

Another muffled sob. Bucky wiggled around in Steve’s arms so that they were face-to-face, his hand resting on his cheek.

“I love you so much”

“I love you too”

“Punk”

“Jerk”

The two of them lied there, entwined in each other’s arms as Bucky’s cries slowly died down.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed your singing” Steve admitted, “the apartment was too quiet without it”

Bucky huffed a laugh, readjusting himself so that he was facing Steve head-on.

“If you wanted me to sing all you had to do was ask, you punk”

Steve let out a soft giggle, tears welling in his eyes as Bucky began to sing, his voice softer than normal.

“How much do I love you? I'll tell you no lie, How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?”

+1 (2015)

Steve had finally found him. Bucky was home.

Well - not home - both of them had lost their homes years ago, but together, as bruised and broken as they might be. And for now? That was enough.

“Steve?”

Bucky’s monotone voice broke the heavy silence that had fallen over the apartment, the blond’s head whipping around to face him. Seeing he had his attention, Bucky continued.

“Did you ever sing to me?”

The question sent Steve’s stomach plunging, a small flicker of hope blooming in his chest at the slightly wrong memory.

“No, but you used to sing to me all the time” Steve said, shuffling slightly closer to Bucky, watching as his eyes lit up with the confirmation, “you used to do it to calm me down when I was stressed or upset”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip thoughtfully.

“Could you - could you sing something for me?”

His voice was soft and unsure, the timid expression something Steve was reluctant to say he was now used to seeing on Bucky’s face.

“If you really want me to I will - but I’m nowhere near as good as you”

“I’m sure that's not true” Bucky said, smiling as he relaxed marginally into his seat.

Steve fidgeted in his seat as he wondered what to sing, his mind going back to the first time Bucky sang to him. A small smile flitted across his face at the memory, deciding the on the old melody.

“Of all the money that e'er I spent, I spent it in good company“

Bucky let out a soft noise, peacefulness oozing from him as he completely relaxed in his seat, letting Steve’s voice drown out the rest of his thoughts.

“And all the harm that ever I did, Alas it was to none but me”

Steve watched Bucky raptly, searching for any spark of recognition.

“And all I've done for want of wit, To memory now I can't recall”

Steve’s next words died in his throat as Bucky opened his mouth, the smooth voice he had been yearning to hear suddenly filling the room.

“So fill to me the parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all”

The two men fell silent, seemingly at a standstill while Bucky digested the new memories. Steve held his breath, hope now beating ceaselessly against his ribs.

“Stevie”

It was just a breath, no louder than an feather falling to the ground, but Steve knew.

Bucky remembered.

_______________________________________________________________

@patzammit @geeksareunique @xxloki81xx @bangtan-serendipity

Songs:

1. The Parting Glass

2. Danny Boy by Frederic Weatherly

3. If You Were Mine by Billie Holiday

4. Til the end of time by Les Brown

5. How Deep Is The Ocean by Irving Berlin

+1 The Parting Glass

84 notes · View notes

ificouldhelpyouforget · 4 years

Text

Attachment (Dan Torrance x Reader)

MASTERLIST

A/N: This is the first time I have EVER written for a spooky fandom let alone a Ewan McGregor character. I’ve only seen Doctor Sleep once, but I hope that doesn’t matter here. This is full of spoilers, so please don’t read if you want to see the film/read the book first. Some details are different from the movie simply because I couldn’t remember or I wanted to change it for the purpose of this story (like where Dan lives in relation to Billy). I don’t know what this is going to look like to y’all, but I hope it’s enjoyable all the same!

Summary: You dealing with the aftermath of that night at the Overlook Hotel.

Warnings: Definitely has some sexual themes though nothing in detail, so... that’s that.

Words: 4.9k

You made your way up to Abra’s room to tell her dinner was ready while her mother, Lucy, finished setting it out.

You had been visiting more often since the Overlook Hotel burned down. Sometimes you’d stay the night there. Going home to your apartment hurt too much.

Abra’s voice sounded through her door as if she was talking to someone. The moment you knocked, the talking ceased and she welcomed you inside.

You smiled at her, shutting the door behind you. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

You scanned over all the RWBY memorabilia in the room. “Who were you talking to?”

Abra looked toward her window. “A friend.”

You followed her gaze to see nothing there. “Your shine?”

She nodded.

“Anyone I know?” Only one person came to your mind.

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Uncle Dan.”

You sucked in a breath, staring at the wall again. What you wouldn’t do to see him standing there, solid... alive.

“Is... Is he here right now?”

Abra nodded again. She could see him as if he were still alive. She watched his eyes light up when you walked in and she saw his despair while you tried to keep your sorrow inside. He stood in front of you looking helpless.

“Where?” Your voice was hoarse from the tears you hadn’t shed yet.

Abra climbed off her bed and stood beside you both. Holding her hand out, she waited for Dan to place his hand there. She then took your hand and place it over his. Abra held them there and focused on the feeling.

Your eyes widened feeling something you couldn’t see. Chewing on your lip, you stared where you imagined Dan would stand.

Abra smiled.

“Tell her she’ll chew a hole through her lip if she doesn’t stop that,” Dan said to Abra, his eyes glued to your face.

“Uncle Dan says to stop doing that or you’ll chew through your lip.”

He used to tease you endlessly for abusing your bottom lip when you felt any sort of strong emotion. You used to hate it when you first met Dan Torrance. But the more you two saw each other whether it was at Billy’s apartment at strange hours of the night or around town, you grew used to it. Now you missed it.

“Shut up, Danny,” you whispered, fighting against the ache in your chest.

A sad half-smile graced his lips. “How has she been, Abra?”

The young girl looked at you. “She stays here a lot.”

You glanced at Abra. “It hurts going home.”

“Y/N doesn’t sleep when she’s there.”

“I miss you...”

Dan frowned, reaching out to touch the side of your face. Of course, you couldn’t feel it. “Abra? Think you can help me out?”

“I have an idea,” Abra grinned, dropping both hands so she could lie on her bed. She closed her eyes for a second and when they opened again, they were white.

You looked at the girl curiously until you felt a hand caress your face. You gasped and your tears finally fell seeing a very real Dan standing in front of you. You pressed your hands against his chest, slid them up and around his shoulders before cradling his face. He was really standing in front of you.

“H-How?”

He nodded toward Abra.

“What an incredible girl,” you said in awe.

Dan suddenly wrapped his arms around you and squeezed. You nuzzled your face against his chest and hugged back as tightly.

You thought about one of the last times you saw him... touched him.

The three of you stood on the steps in the lobby of the Overlook while Rose the Hat sauntered closer. Dan held an ax in his hands in case throwing her into his mind didn’t end well. And it didn’t...

He told you to run, but you descended the few stairs that separated you from him. You covered one of his hands and quietly told him to be careful.

“Y/N,” he said as you turned away. “Keep Abra safe.”

You nodded. You went up to the girl, took her hand, and ran. It was almost impossible to keep running when you heard Dan’s screams echo through the abandoned hotel. Tears streamed down your face as you left him behind.

But that wasn’t the last time you saw him.

You and Abra got separated, but you found her again in room 237. Dan stood in front of her with the ax, no longer the Dan Torrance you left with Rose. You didn’t hesitate to run in and come between the ax and Abra. Luckily, she already broke through to him.

The real Dan stared at you both horrified. “You can’t stay here. I can’t keep them away for long.”

Abra begged him to fight back and leave with you, but there was no way he could. He knew that and you did, too. He had to go down with the hotel.

You took the ax out of his hands, dropping it to the floor, and kissed him hard. Your hands went into his hair just as his gripped your waist.

It wasn’t exactly the way you intended telling him how you felt after years and years of hiding it, but you no longer had a choice to keep it to yourself. He couldn’t do whatever he had to do without knowing.

Your noses still touched when you pulled out of the kiss, eyes closed and hands still on each other. Fresh tears stained your cheeks.

“I love you,” you whispered, kissing him again.

A muted sob left him and his fingers gripped your waist tighter. “I love you.”

All you had time for was one more searing kiss before you had to let him go. You took Abra’s hand again and ran with one more look back at him. The image of his eyes shiny with tears and the visible struggle on his face, whether or not his decision was the right one, was burned forever in your memory.

Watching the hotel burn left you on your knees in the snow weeping for the man you would never see again, the man you loved. Abra hoped Dan would get out, but it was no use. He had to do it.

“Why can’t you sleep, Y/N?” Dan asked, his eyes shifting between yours.

“You and Billy are gone. It hurts too much to dream about what happened.”

Dan ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m so sorry...”

“I’ll manage.”

“Please don’t torture yourself. You have so much ahead of you still.”

You looked up at him with a sad smile. “What’s the point if you’re not here anymore?”

Dan took your face in his hands. “Abra needs you. You promised to protect her.”

“How can I do that when I can’t get out of bed most days? How can I when everything triggers the nightmare of that night? I want to be there for Abra... I do, but my heart aches. I feel like dying every day. This world is so much darker without you in it... without Billy...”

“I’m still here. You just can’t see me.”

“But I want to see you! I want to be like this with you and I can’t.” You wiped your eyes. “I can’t even dream about you because I’m afraid to sleep.”

“Try tonight. I’ll find you there if you’ll let me.”

“You’re always welcome, Danny.”

“My mom is coming,” Abra said softly.

Dan instigated that kiss, putting a hand at the back of your head to pull you in. “Go home tonight and I promise I’ll meet you there,” he said against your lips.

You nodded, kissing him one last time before Abra had to cut off the connection. She sat upright before her mom came in.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry. We were talking.”

You cleaned up your face and turned to look at Lucy with a smile. “Just some girl talk.”

“Okay.” She didn’t buy it completely. “Well, dinner’s getting cold, so...”

You patted her shoulder and went down to dinner. For the first time in a long time, you were eager to go home.

•••••

You walked into the apartment complex on a mission. Out of habit, you went up to Billy’s floor and stood in front of his door with your hand pressed against it. You knew him so much longer than Dan. He was like a brother to you and you missed him. Helping Abra had risks, you all knew that. It still didn’t lessen the pain of loss.

You went up another floor to Dan’s old apartment. Again, you stood at the door.

You weren’t ashamed to admit you transferred apartments soon after Overlook. You were afraid of losing what you had left of Dan, so you pleaded with the landlord for the apartment. She conceded once you promised to pay off what you owed on your lease, which wasn’t more than a few months rent.

Taking out the key, you slipped it into the lock and turned it. There were no lights on inside and the air was cool thanks to the winter season. You shut the door behind you and flipped on the lights.

Your eyes went straight to the chalkboard wall that was still cracked from Abra’s power. “Murder” sat in the center of the spiderweb of cracks, the cry for help she sent to Dan when the baseball kid was being killed. From what Abra told you, the poor boy suffered the worst kind of death. You found yourself praying for his family when he crossed your mind.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, hearing the squeak made you pause. Your behavior after that night at the Overlook Hotel was far from sane, breaching on obsessive. You knew it wasn’t good for you, but you didn’t want to stop. Too many times you promised yourself a trip to a therapist for help through the loss. But you were afraid of what you'd have to give up.

Eventually, you tossed your coat on the floor and rummaged through the dresser that not only held your clothes but some of Dan’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of anything. A few boxes of his things sat in the closet untouched since you moved in.

You took out a pair of your pajama pants and a sweater you secretly favored of Dan’s. You still remember when you first saw him wear it.

You were already pretty deep in your love for him by then and you grinned at him like it was Christmas morning. When he turned to talk to Billy about something, you studied him, feeling your cheeks get warm. The olive green of the sweater made his light hair look redder and his eyes were the clearest blue you’d ever seen. You had been so lost in checking him out that you didn’t notice Billy asked you something.

“Huh?” You resisted glancing back at Dan.

“I asked where you wanted to go for lunch.” Billy knew instantly why you were distracted. He raised an eyebrow at you, shifting his eyes to Dan. The red that colored your face was the exact reaction he hoped for.

“Are you feeling all right?” Dan asked you.

“Yup and anything sounds good. I can eat pretty much anything.”

“I’m sure,” Billy teased.

Dan walked over to you and put his hand on your forehead. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Your face is a little warm.”

You blinked. “Uh, no. I’m fine. It’s just a little warm in the room. You worry too much, Danny.”

He smiled and you coughed a little to keep a sigh quiet. You were a downright mess when Dan Torrance was around.

You hugged the sweater to yourself.

Once you changed, you crawled into bed and held the pillow to your chest. It was just another thing of Dan’s you didn’t store away.

It took hours of trying different relaxation methods before you finally fell asleep. But you didn’t feel like you were asleep. It was the strangest sensation. It was as if you slipped through a portal in the bed that led to the same bed in a different dimension... a dimension that had Dan lying in front of you with a gentle smile.

“Hi,” you whispered, studying his face. He still wore the clothes he had on the last night you saw him. You wondered if he’d always be stuck in that outfit.

“Hey,” he said back, immediately tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “This is familiar.”

“It’s my favorite. It made your eyes look bluer, you know that?”

“I honestly had no idea.”

You hugged his hand to your chest. “I couldn’t think straight when you wore this. It’s pretty embarrassing really.”

“That explains a lot,” he smiled.

Blushing, you squeezed his hand. “So, uh, is this something you can do all the time? Or is there like some sort of timer for you before you’re whisked away for good?”

“I don’t know. The spirits at the Overlook still hang around. They just chose someone else to latch onto.”

“Abra?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Because of her shine?”

He nodded.

“Can I do anything to help her? Can you?”

“I think Abra can handle it. She smart, strong.”

“Are you still here because you’re attached to her, too?”

“Yes... and no. A part of me is attached to you.”

“But I’m not like you or Abra.”

Dan freed his hand so he could brush his fingers through your hair. “No, but you have my heart.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a watery laugh. “That’s so cheesy, Danny.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“It’s still sappy.” You scooted closer and snuggled against him. His body heat radiated around you when he his arms circled you. “But I like it.”

You closed your eyes when Dan kissed your forehead. It was something he started doing when saying goodbye to you after a couple of years of being friends. Billy used to tease him about it all the time, saying Dan liked you better since he never got the same treatment. Of course, Dan proceeded to goofily peck the man’s forehead. Those carefree moments when nothing in the world could tear you down were what you missed most of all.

“I should have told you I loved you a long time ago, Danny,” you said. “We could have had more than a few minutes.”

“Almost eight years of friendship wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was perfect, but we would have gone on dates if I said something sooner. We would have held hands or kissed each other someplace we thought was private.” You played with the zipper on his jacket. “At some point, we’d finally sleep together – Billy would be sick and tired of the sexual tension – and we would be thoroughly addicted to it. I’d hope for a ring and you’d give me one in your sweet, thoughtful way... We’d start our own little family and live in a cute suburban neighborhood. Abra would always be over, too. She’d babysit our kids and they’d call her Aunt Abby...”

Dan’s ears were red when he had you look at him. “I’m sorry I can’t be the one to give you that life. You know I would have. I wouldn’t want anything else if I had you.”

“That’s the thing, Dan... You do have me. You always will. Dying... Dying didn’t change that.”

Finally, Dan kissed you deeply, one hand pushing your hips closer to his and the other caressing your cheek. He nudged your nose with his and smile. “You really wanted to have a family with me?”

You nodded and a few tears slipped out. You kissed the corner of his mouth. “I knew you would make a good father one day because you took the step to be better than your addiction, better than your father. You’re too kind to be like him.”

“I almost killed Abra, Y/N...”

Again, you put your lips against his. “But you didn’t. You had self-control and stopped.”

You hadn’t noticed Dan’s hand go under your sweater until his fingers touched the skin of your hips.

“I really don’t have any self-control, you know,” his whispered before kissing you slowly.

You laughed when he tickled your side. “I love you so much, Danny.”

He hummed and kissed along your jaw. Goosebumps rose on your flesh when his breath fanned over your ear. “I love you, too, Y/N... Even in death.”

You laid back and wrapped your arms around Dan’s shoulders while he studied your face. He wiped your tears away despite them still falling. “Why did you have to die?”

Dan planted his lips on yours so you wouldn’t cry. He hated seeing you so hurt. Had he known your feelings before trapping Rose, he might have been more careful. Yet... he still chose to go down with the hotel when he knew how much he loved you. Maybe it was just the way it was meant to be.

Your hands traveled under his coat and started pulling it over his shoulders. He broke away to slide his arms out and toss it to the floor. You pulled him back by the back of his neck and tried to tone down your desperation.

“This is only a dream,” Dan reminded you between kisses along your throat.

“I know.”

“It might feel real, but I won’t be here when you wake up. I mean, I’ll be around but you can’t see me... touch me.” He brushed your hair away from your face.

“Dan, I know.”

He kissed your nose. “I’ve been watching you, Y/N, and I don’t want you to lose yourself in something that isn’t reality. I’m no more than a ghost.”

“Just kiss me and let me deal with ghost-you infiltrating my dreams later. It’s the last thing on my mind right now,” you said while working on the buttons of his flannel shirt.

Dan searched your face before kissing your lips again. He didn’t break away that time to remove the flannel shirt for you. He tried to keep his mouth on your skin when you tugged his t-shirt up his torso, but the kissing had to be put on pause so he could pull it over his head.

Your fingers trailed up his stomach and to his chest where they stayed to fully enjoy the feeling of the hair there.

“Do you feel this?” you asked while kissing his jaw.

“Yes.” His voice was airy.

“Is it good?”

He laughed lightly. “Yes.”

You met his lips again and tangled your fingers in his hair.

Cautiously, Dan slipped his hands back under your sweater. He pulled it up enough to reveal your stomach, much to your curiosity. The first time his lips touched the skin above your hipbone you shivered, hands messing his hair up worse than before.

The kiss he left on your lower abdomen when he pulled the waistline of your sleep pants just down far enough to do that caused you to suck in a breath. You weren’t sure if your dream was heightening your senses or if it was because of Dan.

Both of you took slow deliberate steps to rid each other of the remaining articles of clothing separating you. Dan left kisses on every bit of skin he revealed, taking your breath away.

He returned to your lips and let his hands roam across your body. You couldn’t resist arching your back to get closer to him.

“This is already better than any dream I’ve had about you where sex was involved,” you breathed.

“I’m flattered you dreamt about me like this before.”

You smile and kissed his cheek. “Why wouldn’t I? You are the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. You are so quiet, kind, and your smile when you are really happy is so... I love it.”

A grin lit up his face, making you giggle.

“Yes, like that.” You held his hair away from his face and left a series of gentle kisses on and around his mouth. “No other man compares to you. This dream has ruined me further and we’ve only made it this far.”

“I love you,” he said with a passionate kiss.

“Mm.” You let your hands wander over his chest and shoulders to his back and arms. They landed back in his hair as the kiss deepened and Dan made the next move.

All you felt was pure bliss – it was a dream after all. There was no need to take it slow, though Dan was adamant to love you as completely as possible. And he did several times over in that single dream.

You laid in his arms, feeling sleep fall over you but you fought against it. You wanted to stare at Dan as long as you could before the dream had to end.

You traced his lips with your finger and stared into his blue eyes so full of love for you. It was perfect and you never wanted to forget it.

“You need to wake up, Y/N.”

You shook your head, watching him kiss the pad of your finger. “I’m not ready.”

“I can always come back. You'll be late for work if you don’t get up.”

You frowned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I want you to stay, too, but you still live in the real world. Just don’t daydream your whole day away.”

Blushing, you leaned forward and kissed him one more time. “Shut up, Danny.”

He chuckled. “I love you, too.”

You blinked slowly. “You’ll come back tonight?”

“I will.”

You closed your eyes and smiled. “I love you... and miss you, Dan.”

All you heard in return was the alarm on your cellphone. Your eyes snapped open and you were greeted by the ceiling, still in the clothes you fell asleep in. But the feeling in your dream was heavy on your body. It was the most relaxed you felt in weeks.

You didn’t bother changing out of the sweater, slipping a bra on under it. Since it fell low enough on your thighs, you put on some black leggings with tan boots that went up to your ankles. Your hair went up into a messy bun and then you finished the rest of your morning routine before it was time to go.

At the door, you scanned over the apartment and gave it a little smile.

“See you later, Danny,” you whispered. Then you were on your way.

•••••

BONUS:

Abra met you at the little shop you worked at when she got off school. She liked to walk with you to either her house or your apartment and that day it was your apartment she wanted to go to. She just wanted to spend some time with her Aunt Y/N.

“Did Uncle Dan visit you last night?” she asked, swinging your hand between you both. “I didn’t hear from him, so I assumed he did.”

You kept your blush down. “Yeah, he did.”

“What did you talk about?”

You shrugged. “Stuff. Mostly cheesy romantic things.”

“Right, because you love each other.” Abra scrunched her nose. “Did you get to play any board games or watch some movies? You know, dream ones.”

“Uh, not really,” you laughed.

Dan walked behind you both – you unaware of it. His face reddened and he silently begged you not to say anything.

“Well, what did you do? It doesn’t sound very fun.”

“Abra, I’m not going to tell you because it’s personal. Maybe someday I will. Now is not the best time.”

“Ugh, I bet you kissed... a lot.” She peered at Dan who was shaking his head and blushing brightly. Abra smirked.

“Yes. Now stop prying.”

Abra was silent for about a minute, her mind shaking answers right out of your head, and then she gasped. She ripped her hand out of yours and her mouth hung open in disgust. “You did it with Uncle Dan?!”

“Did you just go through my mind? Abra!”

“Abra...” Dan groaned, his ears, neck, and cheeks a deep shade of red.

“That’s disgusting!”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe you did that! What did you see? No! Don’t tell me. I don’t want you to see it again.”

“It’s burned in my brain forever!”

“Don’t go looking through my thoughts then!”

Dan scratched the back of his head. “Maybe you both should stop shouting in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Abra glared at him. “We’ll yell if we want to!”

You searched the area Abra glared at. “Dan?”

“He’s been following you all day.”

“Oh... Hello, Danny.”

Dan’s eyes lit up and his frown transformed into a lopsided grin. “Hello again, Y/N.”

Abra gagged. “He says hi with hearts in his eyes.”

You chuckled awkwardly remembering your dream. You started chewing on your lip. Dan neared and lovingly reached out to touch your face although you couldn’t feel it.

“You two are gross. I’m going home.” She shook her head at you. “I can’t believe you had sex with Uncle Dan.”

“You’ll understand one day, Abra!” you called out. You covered your mouth and started to giggle watching her jog away.

Dan smiled finding you absolutely adorable. His heart ached knowing he couldn’t tell you right then. He wanted to kiss your cheek and whisper how cute you were, but he had to wait.

“I can’t believe she did that,” you said, hoping Dan was still there.

“I’m sure it was at the front of your mind,” he replied knowing he would have to repeat it later.

Abra knowing about you and Dan was horrible, but you laughed with Dan when he came into your dreams again that night.

“She’ll never look at us the same way again,” you said, laying your arm across his naked torso. You kissed his shoulder. “I love Abra, but she’s gotta listen when someone tells her no.”

“She may never speak to us again,” Dan grinned cheekily.

“I hope that isn’t the case.”

A knock echoed through the dream and you jumped.

“Was that in here?”

Dan sat up and stared at the door. “I think so.”

You got out of bed, slipping on a sweater that covered all the important bits, and opened the door enough to peek out. There you found an apologetic Abra fiddling with her fingers.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy and then freaking out today,” she said. “It’s just weird to think about you and Uncle Dan like that.”

“H-How did you get in my dream?”

“It’s not hard. It’s as easy as looking into your head.”

“Oh... Well, I forgive you for earlier. Just please don’t go through my mind when I don’t want to tell you something.”

Abra nodded. She looked over your shoulder and her face twisted in disgust. “Again?! Really!?”

You glanced behind you to see Dan standing there in jeans, his chest still bare. He looked so handsome with that cheeky grin thanks to Abra’s second freak out of the day.

You shrugged and smiled at him. “What can I say? I love him.”

“I’m out.” And Abra vanished.

You shut the door and wrapped your arms around Dan’s middle. “Maybe she’ll leave us alone when she knows we’re together.”

“Maybe.” He kissed your nose and your forehead.

Smiling, you pecked his lips. “Want to play a card game?”

“I’d love to.”

For years you and Dan met up in your dreams until the day you stopped dreaming thanks to a drunk driver – a man from Billy and Dan’s AA meetings. It happened fast. You were walking home from the bus stop after visiting Abra and Lucy. You decided to give your dad a call to just chat and see how he and your mom were doing. The driver came from behind you. You felt pain and then nothing. The end. Your phone was sent flying and your dad called out for you, not knowing what happened. All he heard was the thud of your body against the truck and the phone tumbling across the pavement.

Abra was a mess losing another person she loved. She cried every night and missed so many days of school that the school was concerned she wouldn’t graduate from her grade. It wasn’t until you and Dan showed up when she sought out Dan that she started healing. She hated that you were stuck as a ghost, but you looked so happy to be in the same plane of existence with Dan again. She went back to school. She cheered up. She found new friends, some who were like her.

One night when she was climbing into bed, she reached out for you and Dan. It had been a little while since she saw you both. Abra found you and she smiled to herself.

Dan sat on an empty bench in the park nearby, his arm resting on the back of it. You were beside him, cuddled up against his side watching the few people still out walk by. No one could see you two. You looked up at Dan and he quickly met your gaze with a gentle smile. You kissed him and snuggled closer to him.

Abra left after that. Her smile remained even after she fell asleep.

Not even death could stop you and Dan from loving one another. She slept dreaming of a love of her own in the future, one that would never end no matter what.

#doctor sleep #doctor sleep fanfiction #dan torrance #dan Torrance fanfiction #dan Torrance x reader #reader insert #spoilers #doctor sleep spoilers #hella fluffy #kinda steamy #abra brings the humor #I love these characters so much #cue the nerves #I hope this is good #sorry if it's not

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