#say what you like about jonathan but he’s not fresh off of leading a fucking lynch mob

[heavencasteel420]

(Petty venting ahead.)

I totally see why other people ship R*nance; their S4 team-up is fun (when Robin isn’t trying to push Sta*cy) and they have good chemistry. I’m also not such an exclusively Jancy shipper that I can’t enjoy fic/art for other Nancy (or Jonathan) ships and, although I want them to stay together in canon, there are ways that they could do a R*nance ending (overt or stealth) that I would be on board with. (In contrast, there is one Sta*cy ending that they could do that would make me go “I still hate this but it kind of works.”) Still, it is so hard to find R*nance fic that fits the following criteria:

Nancy is either bi/pan OR it’s an AU where she’s been a lesbian the whole time and it impacts the narrative accordingly (i.e., the author isn’t positing that Nancy, in canon, has never actually been attracted to Jonathan or Steve—I appreciate that other people find this interpretation meaningful, but I simply do not vibe with it);

If it’s an AU, it has enough connection to the source material that I don’t feel like I’m reading original fic where everyone has the names of ST characters for some reason (just a general preference);

Nancy is not a popular mean girl who needs to be humbled (presented with backhanded sympathy for her internalized homophobia or no);

The fic doesn’t go too far the other way and make Nancy a 100% well-adjusted and endlessly supportive Mom Friend (honestly, I’m pretty flexible on this one, because it’s much less common and doesn’t give me bad-adaptation-of-Emma vibes);

Similarly, the fic finds a happy medium between making Robin an uwu baby useless lesbian (and kind of infantilized due to implied autism) and an overly wise and together lesbian mentor (not terribly interesting story-wise, plus if she’s still eighteen, how together can she be?);

Unless it’s an AU where Jancy never happened or happened a lot differently, Nancy’s bond with Jonathan is acknowledged as important (even if they parted on bad terms and could no longer be friends, it’s bizarre to act like they had a casual, run-of-the-mill high school relationship) and definitely not dismissed as trivial next to her relationships with Steve or frickin’ Eddie;

The author genuinely likes Jonathan (“I don’t hate him but [long list of ways Jonathan annoys the author]” doesn’t count), lets him be upset about the break-up without villainizing him (or sets things up so that it’s plausible he’s relatively unbothered), and shows a decent level of awareness of who he is as a character (i.e., not reducing him to just being stoned all the time or getting basic details wrong) OR just leaves him out of it;

Maybe takes it easy on the amount of page-time dedicated to Steve/St*ddie;

Doesn’t have Joyce cheerily tell Nancy that she seems happier with Robin than she ever did with Jonathan (Jonathan could be way shittier as a boyfriend and a son, and that would still be an incredibly cruel thing to do, but the specific circumstances take it into Sharp Objects territory) (if Nancy is a lesbian in the story and Joyce knows it and she means that Nancy seems happier because she can be herself, that’s different);

Decent spelling/grammar/style/formatting (not a specific problem with this ship, just fic in general).

Nobody’s obligated to do anything of these things for what’s ultimately a fun hobby, and most of my pet peeves run the gamut from “totally inoffensive” to “slightly mean-spirited but not bigoted” to “unfortunate implications but I think the author means well.” I understand the utility, too, of downplaying ships you don’t favor or using an ex character as the bad guy to create the kind of narrative you want. It’s just slim pickings for someone who thinks they’re cute together but isn’t into all that shit.

#not trying to single out this ship either #because god knows there’s st*ddie fics that villainize Nancy and even Jonathan #(I kind of like when jancy are together in those fics and subtly bullying Steve for being dyslexic or whatever) #(like Tommy and Carol 2.0) #(it’s stupid but also very funny) #and st*nathan and j*rgyle fics that are too unsympathetic to Nancy or get her wrong #and even a h*llcheer fic that bizarrely had Jason as a good guy but Jonathan as a bad guy #WHY #say what you like about jonathan but he’s not fresh off of leading a fucking lynch mob

[munson-blurbs]

... i'm back with more. can i please get a dum-dum and starburst with argyle 👀

Idiots in love/Hippie!Reader/Argyle

Warnings: mention of smoking weed, political protest, conflict between Reader and a counter-protester

WC: 739

A/N: Thank you to @rip-quizilla and @hellfirehottie420 for helping shape Argyle's dialogue 💚

Divider credit to @saradika

The sun shines brightly over the town of Lenora Hills, a gentle breeze shaking the leaves and providing cool air on an otherwise humid October afternoon. 

“I’m tellin’ you, dude,” Jonathan says, triple checking that his camera has a fresh roll of film in it, “there’s no way this protesting stuff works. All that’s gonna happen is you’ll get arrested, and pot will still be illegal.”

Argyle shakes his head, his raven tresses brushing against his neon shirt. “So what, man? I’m tired of you being a negative Nelly all the damn time.” He scoffs, hiking his sign up under his arm. “Just take your photos and stay by me, all right?”

Jonathan nods, ambivalent about the whole ordeal, but Argyle leads the way until they see the group of people chanting in the middle of the park. 

“Argyle! You made it!” Jonathan watches a goofy grin grow on his best friend’s face as you bound over with your own sign. You throw your arms around Argyle’s shoulders, making sure not to whack him with your poster board. “You guys should come stand with me and my friends!” 

Jonathan shakes his head. “I’m actually gonna walk around and get some good pictures. But, uh,” he claps Argyle on the back, “this guy’ll keep you safe.”

“Y-Yeah, for sure,” Argyle stammers, nearly choking on his own saliva when you take his large hand in your smaller one, tugging him toward the front of the protest. 

He tries to pay attention to the woman bellowing into the megaphone; he knows that he should be listening, absorbing information about decriminalization and the failures of the criminal justice system. But you’re so passionate, and strong, and beautiful—

His silent swooning is interrupted when a man barrels into you, making you stumble backwards. Argyle’s strong hands wrap around your waist to catch you, allowing you to regain your balance. 

“Stupid fuckin’ hippies,” he spits, cupping his hands around his mouth to elevate his volume. “Get a fuckin’ job.”

“I do have a job, actually,” you bite back. Argyle shoves his hands in his pockets, taking a step closer to you. You can feel his chest against your spine, building up your confidence. “This is how I’m spending my lunch break, asshole.”

The man chuckles harshly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Didn’t realize dumb bitch was a paid gig.”

You’re about to hurl a barrage of insults his way when you see Argyle reach out and grab the stranger by his suit collar, yanking him in. “Why don’t you fuck off before I make you?” he growls, teeth gritted in pure dominance. 

“Jesus Christ,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up in defeat. Argyle’s eyes still blaze with anger and protectiveness, but he lets him go. “Your boyfriend’s crazy,” he adds before scurrying away, proverbial tail tucked between his legs. 

You wait until the unwelcome guest is out of earshot before you give Argyle’s foot a small kick. “Thanks, boyfriend,” you tease, but you can see that he’s not laughing. 

“Are you okay?” His expression has completely shifted to one of concern, dark eyes shiny with worry. “You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I-I’m fine. Happens all the time at these kinds of things.” His seriousness takes you aback, having gotten accustomed to his laid back demeanor from your visits to Surfer Boy. “Are you okay?”

He nods too quickly, running his fingers through his raven locks. “Just, uh, didn’t like how he got in your face. Not that you couldn’t handle him on your own, because, y’know, I totally fuck with feminism, man.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, no–woman. Not, like, ‘whoa man,’ but, like, you’re a woman.” He shoves his hands in his pants pockets, staring at the ground for a moment. “Sorry if I embarrassed you. I’m more of, like, a ‘make love, not war, smoke some Purple Palm Tree Delight’ kinda guy, I guess.”

You gently push his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear, “You didn’t embarrass me. ‘S nice to know you have my back.” You let your palm linger for a moment before you press your lips to his cheek. “And I’m definitely down to smoke with you later, if you’d like to share?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Argyle smiles, slinging an arm over your shoulder. He flips his visor around so it’s facing backwards and places a kiss on your temple. “This protest is on!”

--

#trope or treat #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #argyle fanfic #argyle stranger things #argyle x you #argyle x reader

[see-arcane]

I for one would love for you to elaborate on your Jonathan Harker = PTSD-Affected Other Human theory. It sounds really intriguing.

The gist is that Jonathan, whether he was carrying some innate supernatural potential or it was all born of Dracula's influence (bitten in or through other occult means), was 'set off' when all that Transylvanian fun happened, ditto the mess in England. I'd hesitate to say it was due to just plain stress--the dude's fresh out of law school and if stress was all it took to make him go Otherworldly, he'd have been quite interesting to see during the exam--so we'll say it's strictly the supernatural factor.

Call it stimuli, call it stressors, call it whatever. Dracula's actions and presence have been connected with every change in Jonathan Harker's shifting mental/physical state. Crawling the walls, leaving the first and only non-holy scar with the shovel, turning white-hair washed-out in literal seconds while learning about Mina's attack, the berserker moments with the Kukri, and, oh yeah, deadlifting a full fucking coffin of dirt and its vampire bastard-passenger; it all reads like the equivalent of a stone rolling faster and faster downhill in terms of his development.

Note, a sporadic development. Because unlike the vampire business or werewolves or what-have-you, Jonathan Harker's change into Something Else takes a break! Post-fever*, (*fine enough explanation for the hospital, but I wonder), Jonathan does remarkably well at maintaining his old self, not counting his nervousness. He's a boiling pot of water taken off the heat, cooling, cooling, all's fine...

...Until he crosses paths with the Count again. Until the night with Mina happens. Then he's a pot of water thrown into a furnace. He and his bodily changes increase only when Dracula's pulling his vampiric bullshit. While the man did and clearly will suffer a heaping dose of PTSD over the whole situation, the Otherworldy/Inhumanlike aspects are not a past-tense thing. It's a 'The More Exposed I Am to Count Douchebag's Radius/Activity, the More I Will Adapt and Change to Be the Thing THAT FUCKS UP HIS WHOLE UNLIFE.'

And so he does, in glorious fashion. Which leads me to another thought--and one that's at the crux of a little hefty something I'm writing--and that's this:

While a name is never put to just what Jonathan Harker's deal is by the end of the book (and a million kudos to all my fellow red-stringers out there coming up with theories), I like to think that out of the whole Vampire Hunter Gang, Jonathan Harker was the only one being altered into an entity whose purpose/talent was specifically to take down vampires. Because, really, I cannot stop thinking about that vivid, unhealed, permanent red scar on Dracula's brow. The hair? The strength? The increasing rabid hunting dog energy the longer the story goes on? All that I can almost ignore as Stoker getting creative with Harker's vendetta vibes.

But that scar. From something so mundane as a shovel blade, not sacred, not blessed. Just a plain old spade from (what seems like) an ordinary man doing the extraordinary without explanation.

That smells a lot like something there to fill a particular bogeyman niche. There's always a counterbalance in nature, and so there should be in the supernatural. Something that's been keeping the undead numbers down even in the eras when there was no holy crucifix or garlic or wafers to brandish. We always think 'werewolves' when we imagine a monstrous foe to the bloodsuckers, but...

My money is on something a little more prone to making sure the dead stay dead. Turning the Nosferatu back into proper carrion and such.

Say, something with a taste for old dead meat. Something that was brought up before by a few of our red-yarn brigade.

If you have a problem with the living dead, send in (or create) something whose specialty is consuming the dead back.

Send in a ghoul.

#in which I ramble #and speculate that Jonathan got rid of that vampire problem just in time to avoid any more steps in his possible transformation #vampires drink the living #ghouls devour the dead #makes a certain kind of awful sense #anyway #dracula spoilers #dracula #dracula daily #spoilers #jonathan harker #monster jonathan harker #theory #ghoul

[sanguine-tenshi]

Stranger things S03

I, I don’t even know where to begin.

I want to know who got fired between S02 and S03, because there’s such an obvious downgrade in quality. Someone obviously got fired. Someone who was holding this shit together with like chewing gum, scotch tape and prayers.

Or! Or the Duffers went on like a lunch date with D&D and all they did was just circle jerk each other off over what good writers all four of them are. Because this is approaching the unmentionable GoT season levels of bad. It’s not quite there, not yet, but it sure is approaching it.

God this season was just 6 hours of me screaming the word ‘why’ at my screen. Yes 6 hours because I watched this shit on 1.5x speed. And it still dragged it’s ass on certain parts so thank fuck I did.

So here, another complaint dump under the cut, because I just cannot help myself.

Word count under the cut: 3,207 words

Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers

Oh yeah I’m putting them together because this season they shared one coffee pickled braincell. And most of the season Nancy clings to it. Jonathan isn’t a character anymore, remember.

I’m just...why? Why do they make one dumb decision after another?

Okay, okay let’s go in order.

Why is Nancy escaping out the window? No seriously. They are both adults with jobs. They’ve been together for how long, a year? Everyone knows they are together. Everyone knows they are fucking at this point. It’s not like Joyce disapproves of their relationship. Or that she dislikes Nancy. Or that they are a secret. And they aren’t being all that quiet when they wake up either. Just...why?

Next is the journalist bros. And it’s so stupid, that whole subplot. Are you really telling me they aren’t writing about Starcourt? Really? That’s not front page news in a small local paper? You really telling me the locals aren’t slobbering over every single little scrap of info on Starcourt? Starcourt, the new giant mall that is irreversibly changing their town’s business and culture?

I get that you needed Nancy to have her strong independent wamen moment. But could you make it fucking realistic? Something along the lines of: “Look sweetheart, do you really think we haven’t been writing about Starcourt? People are tired of it. You go to a neighborhood BBQ and all the talk is about Starcourt. Stay at home moms get together, drink cheap wine and talk about Starcourt. The book club talks about Starcourt. You go to the bar for a beer and talk about Starcourt. You are balls deep in your wife and her dirty talk is about Starcourt. It’s too depressing at this point we need something new. Something fresh! But I understand, you are young, you don’t understand how these things work. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, alright? Alright!”

And you can have Nancy start talking about some angle they haven’t covered yet. Some independent research she did because of Joyce, with Joyce. Maybe insert a bit of the actual mystery into it. Like she looked it up and the owners are being very sussy. She looked at the plans and there are airducts that lead to nowhere (definitely not to a secret Russian base). Something that’s close to the truth and gets our attention. But she gets dismissed. Because she’s the coffee intern and no one cares about her ideas. 

Make the jurnobros sexist assholes, sure, but don’t make them stupid idiots on top of that. Make it interesting and engaging and relatable. This shit that you did? It’s boring. I’m bored. I don’t even hate them! Best they get is an eyeroll.

The rat subplot, God this shit made me miss season 1 Jonathan so much. My poor boy. 

Why is Jonathan reluctant? Like since when isn’t he just as ready to divebomb into the deep end as Nancy? Grab the monster by the balls and shake till it chokes? That is what brought the two of them together in the first place. I get that he doesn’t want to lose his job but that’s all solved by him saying they shouldn’t do it on company time. What do these jurnobros care what two interns get up to after their shift?

And also are you seriously telling me Nancy and Jonathan the demogorgon hunters aren’t suspicious of a rat rattling it’s cage that violently. I’m not saying they have to immediately connect it to the Upside Down, but are you really telling me the two of them just went:

Also why didn’t they take the rat with them right away? I mean I know why, I’ll come back to rat goo at the end don’t you worry. But they wouldn’t just leave it there. It’s evidence! They would take it! Or are you really telling me the old woman didn’t want to give them the clearly fucked rat? Did she develop some sort of emotional connection to it?

Also why is Nancy uninterested in what Jonathan has to say about the rat? She’s like a dog with a bone. She’d be all over that shit.

Why did they get fired? Like their boss is flayed at that point and later on at the hospital its kinda implied that the Mind Flayer is gunning for them specifically. So why fire them? Why not just flay them with everyone else?

Their fight in the car is one of the best scenes in the show. I still wish it was more...violent, I guess, not in like a physical way. Just Jonathan should be a lot more angry at her. He did lose his job because of her, it’s kinda a big deal for his family and Nancy doesn’t understand, can’t relate, isn’t even apologetic. Like the words he says are all right, there’s just not enough emotion behind them. Season 1 Jonathan would have done it right.

And later on he doesn’t even hold her accountable. Like yeah you were right but there were better ways to do this shit. We could have come up with a better plan if you just took a moment to breathe. We didn’t have to take unneeded risks, risks that are worse for me than for you. 

#giveJonathanHisBallsBack

The whole hospital thing is absolutely atrocious, the second one. It’s such a sudden and weird tonal shift for the show. Why are we in some bizarre Walking Dead knockoff reality suddenly? And there is just so much fucking standing around and staring. Fucking do something you fucking lemons! The two jurnobros melt and Jonathan and Nancy just sort of, fucking slow walk after the goo. Why the hell aren’t you hitting that Elden Ring skeletal slime shit with something! Just start fucking grabbing random ass chemicals and start pouring! Fucking Nancy at least douse it with the fire extinguisher! Or at least fucking take this window of fucking inactivity from murder goop to RUN AWAY! (I’ll come back to the goop monsters.)

And later on at the fucking cabin. Same shit. Stop fucking lollygagging and do something. Billy really out here doing his best to warn them that he knows where they are while being mind-controlled and having no clue what is happening and none of these simpletons catch it, not until its too late. Billy really breaking his back trying to save these, these KRETENI, and no one notices. Billy deserved better. 

At least Jonathan finally wrestled the braincell back from Nancy, he was the only one who did something when shit started moving in El’s leg. My boy had a personality in only one scene this season.

.

The Scoops Troop

Ugh, alright. So what is with the tone of their whole plotline. It’s some sort of spy comedy. Since when is Stranger Things a spy comedy? Did I miss an episode? Maybe a whole fucking season?

Okay, let’s talk about the trope. The used be asshole popular guy has a change of heart and now can’t get any pussy trope. Why is it a thing? Why is it a thing in Stranger Things? Why did the Duffers feel the need to make it a point in the show that Steve doesn’t get any pussy anymore? I am baffled. Teen girls WILL fuck a good looking guy even if his social standing isn’t good anymore. They are high school students, their standards aren’t fucking high. Completely unnecessary subplot. Moving on.

Why is Robin the one solving everything? She just “joined” the gang, why does she have to solve every problem/mystery they have? Look I know Steve isn’t the brightest bulb, fine, but why is Dustin suddenly dumb and useless? Really guys. Can we have the guys actually getting stuff done? Just like all of the main gang guys. Please. Why are they still characters? Why keep them around if they serve no purpose other than comic relief? 

Can we stop tearing old characters down in order to boost new ones. It cheap and hollow and we are over it.

Why are we involving another child in this? Steve and Dustin’s danger senses are probably fucked at this point, but Robin is a normal teen. She should have standards, she should know better, but instead its her fucking idea to involve a fucking child. And sure they don’t know the extent of the bullshit the Russians are doing, but for fucks sake generally people take shit seriously when guns get involved.

Also yes, commies are incompetent and like to cut corners but they aren’t this fucking incompetent. If you are going to make them get into a secret base could you make it harder and more complex than a fucking escape room? 

Why aren’t they calling Hopper? This isn’t Upside Down related but the local chief of police, who you are monster hunter buddies with, would probably want to know about secret Russian shenanigans in his town. And then we could have them panicking about not being able to reach Hopper. And starting to suspect the Russians already have Hopper because of vague thing 3 Flo said about why Hopper is missing.

I do like Steve/Robin moments. Even if it is kinda obvious she was supposed to have a crush on Steve at first instead of Tammy. It’s fine, it deepens both their characters. But it is obvious that the first draft was to have them get together.

.

Billy Hargrove

Billy, oh Billy. I’m so sorry. You deserved better than this. 

Ah yes, Billy Hargrove. The irredeemable racist asshole of the show, who just so happens to spend most of his screen time this season either crying or just about to cry and the rest somehow saving the main gang (or trying to). Truly a horrid character undeserving of your pity and love. Absolutely. Yep. No character depth to be found here what so ever. None. Mhm.

Ugh let’s get this show on the road, I’ll stop picking on antis. 

So I have no idea why the Mind Flayer kept Billy around. Other than him being a name and face character that is. Plot armor do be thiccc for everyone this season. And emotional damage. Can’t forget emotional damage. Look I love Billy, but there was no actual reason for the Mind Flayer to keep him around. There was nothing special about him. You know what could have fixed this issue? A Billy has superpowers reveal. That would have made sense. Otherwise why keep him. Or why keep only him. Having a few more zombie drones could have helped as well, especially in the final fight. But the Mind Flyer is a useless goober. (More on that later.)

Also how in the name of Cthulhu is Billy the one with most development when he spends almost the whole season as a meat puppet? This shit is unreal.

At least we know why he had to die this season.

Look I’ve seen a lot of speculation and joke posts on here about why he had to die. But the truth is kinda fucking obvious. The Duffers wouldn’t know how to deal with him. We already know they can’t write trauma and character development. Or hell at this point I’m not sure they understand human emotions fully. 

If Billy had survived they would have had to deal with all this shit. The survivors guilt. The second hand murder and kidnapping. The mind control. The brief flashes of Billy’s backstory. Billy’s fucking backstory. Just the general trauma.

They would have had to actually put some effort into Billy as a character instead of just Dacre bullying his way to a personality for Billy.

But nah, much easier to give us breadcrumbs and then kill the character off.

Because yes that is what the fandom wanted. Billy dead and the final death match between knockoff Terminator and depressed cop. Oh there was a window. Billy’s death was certainly slow enough for them to kill the Mind Flyer before it gave the death blow.

But nah. Nah.

Rest in peace, you beautiful man. You deserved so much better than this. 

You all fucking did.

.

Miscellaneous 

I want to know how much Coca Cola paid for that whole weird ass product placement scene. Lucas is literally moaning into his can. How much did they have to spit out for that awkward, out of place cluster fuck? I genuinely need answers.

What is up with Russian Terminator? Why is there a Russian Terminator in the first place? What show am I watching? He’s so out of place. Which one of the Duffers is jerkin it to the terminator so much that we needed a Russian Terminator in the show? All the Russians are these frumpy looking losers and then there’s the Terminator. He was so unnecessary. Just why? I was half expecting an android reveal at the end. What the hell? 

Alexei’s death scene, that’s not how guns work. That’s not how silencers work. Okay guys. We live 40 years into the future and we don’t have silencers that are anywhere near that good. Can we please not anymore. Guns are LOUD. Do you know what isn’t loud. A fucking knife. And if you are going to go that closely to someone to kill them could you at the very fucking least not use a LOUD RANGED WEAPON! PLEASE!

Fun house scene. Hopper, why not shoot Russian Terminator in the head? He stares at him for long enough to realize there’s no blood. And this dude has been a pain in their ass the whole season. He should have fucking made sure the guy was dead.

The scene where they acquire Alexei, again the gun is a ranged weapon, there is absolutely no reason to shove it against someone’s head to make your point. In fact this scene is a lovely demonstration on why you don’t pull that shit on people. Hopper is a fucking cop he knows better. Also why and how does Joyce fuck up her throw THAT badly?

Can we talk about all the tonal and trope shifts this season? The scoops troop is in their own world of spy comedy. Nancy and Jonathan are in a NCIS/Bones knock-off, they even have one of those absolutely atrocious evidence-->flashback scenes, their plotline then abruptly switches into zombie horror and then into monster horror. Joyce and Hopper are in some sort of buddy-cop romcom drama with Russian Terminator cameos. And then it all somehow switches to monster horror/thriller with pre-apocalypse undertones. Can we keep this shit at least a little bit consistent? Like at all. What in the name of the holly Roman Empire were they thinking with this shit?

Also why do we have the same stupid shit with Joyce every season. The woman has been right about weird ass shit twice already, why do people keep on insisting on not believing her? At this point everyone should just go “Joyce noticed something so we are looking into it.” End of discussion.

Look when the conspiracy guy got Nancy and Jonathan together it was funny, also very creepy, weird and inappropriate, BUT FUNNY. Should have just left it at that one time. What is he? The hand of the audience now? Let characters get together in a normal way, not this shit!

I’m not even gonna talk about the singing scene. Nope! Skipped right through that crige!

Why do they reveal everything right away? No seriously. Pretty much from the start we know how the Mind Flayer looks and what it’s doing. Why was that decision made? Do you know what keeps people glued to their screens that fist watch? Fucking curiosity! So why do we know about everything AS it’s happening? Fuck only knows!

.

The Mind Flayer 

I’ve already had a meltdown post over this so I’ll TRY to keep this concise. 

God I cannot take this goofy idiot seriously what so ever.

Like look at this goofy goober! Look at him fucking TROTTING after the car like it’s a fucking pet the kids are taking out for walkies. 

God I feel bad for the team of people that had to work day and night to bring this goofy fuck to life. So much time wasted.

How am I supposed to take this motherfucker seriously when it always takes it’s sweet time killing the main characters?

There are so many fucking opportunities for it to kill off the main cast and it just lets them get away every time. 

Okay let’s talk about the goop.

Why was the goop included? It throws the power balance off completely. 

There is nothing the characters can do to defend themselves against it. The only reason they do is because plot armor is fucking visible this season.

Look. It’s established that the goop can infect anyone, a rat weight of it is enough to infect a grown human. It’s also established that it can ooze through grates. So why is the Mind Flayer bothering with Billy kidnapping and princess carrying victims to it? Why not just send rats to every person in Hawkins and making them explode? 

Like when the cabin fight happens. The goopy fuck could have just put a giant hole in the celling and then oozed inside and infected everyone. Why not?

Because this fucker is so fucking stupid that’s why. And that kills any and all intimidation/scare factor this thing had. Like it’s clearly smart enough to plan and hold a conversation but not smart enough to take the easiest route. 

Why?

Also why were the demogorgons just dismissed. Like the demogorgons were a knock off xenomorph species. They have to be hatched inside a person. They have a slimy eel looking baby stage and just get progressively worse as they age. And they had some level of a hive mind with a queen-like entity.

The demogorgons were good. Nice. Simple. Defined. 

I just do not understand why they were replaced with whatever the hell this season is doing. It’s just such a shift in powers. Where did the goop powers come from? How do they relate to the demogorgons?

Just, for the hundredth time, why?

Oh and I still have no idea why everyone was guzzling cleaning products and fertilizer.

.

That’s it. I’m done. I refuse to watch the 4th season. I have no hope for it.

If I do decide to write a fic in the future I’ll do wiki research on the Upside Down/Mind Flayer(/Vecna?) thing. And even then I’ll probably have to cut off most of the shit. I think I made my case in this post for why.

After this shit season I think I might just micro analize Billy, scene by scene. Like as a treat. For myself...and Dacre. Because he was legit the only one who cared enough about the character to give him a, ya know, a fucking personality. We both deserve it after this cluster fuck. If he said he had to fight for every single scrap of emotion for Billy I’d believe him. I don’t want his hard work to go to waste.

Congrats you somehow made it to the end. Have fantastic day, I’m gonna go get plastered.

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #billy hargrove #steve harrington #robin buckley #russian terminator #mind flayer #goop rats #my slipping sanity #goop powers #demogorgon #joyce byers #jim hopper #erica sinclair #no we are still not talking about the singing #i refuse #i know someone asked for my analysis of season 3 #here you go #all my pain and suffering #stranger things season 3 #st season 3

[wixterirox]

“There was this girl,” Billy looks up from dangling his feet off the ledge of the quarry and towards his gaze to Robin. A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips. Robin wants to pull it out of his lips and yell that those will kill him, but she holds herself back and continues, “Her name was Barb. Barbara Holland…she was like us.” The words come out like a whisper but she can tell Billy heard her.

His brows are raised like he is intrigued by what she is saying. “Well shit, Buckley, you just attract all the queers don’t you,” Billy smiles at her with his tongue poking out of his mouth and the cig in his hand. 

Robin sticks her tongue out like a second grader would do at their older brother. Billy’s statement holds some truth to it though. There was Barbara then Mr. Hauser and now Billy. 

“Anyways, Barb went missing last year at like the same time as Jonathan’s brother-”

“-Zombie boy?” 

Sometimes Robin forgets Billy wasn’t there for that whole mess of a year; he’s like a breath of fresh air, “Yeah, zombie boy, but they both were given funerals and they found Will even after they had a fucking funeral.”

Billy seems taken back by this information. His teeth bite down into his bottom lip while his face shows a blank expression. “What are you trying to say, Buckley?” 

Robin knows that he understands her implication, “She got out, Billy… she escaped Hawkins. We can too, there was a teacher I was talking to who I thought helped Barb escape, he didn’t, but I made a plan operation croissant.” Rob put air quotes around operation croissant. She knew it was silly to mention, she hadn’t spoken about it to anyone other than Mr. Hauser.

“Shit you thought a teacher would help a teenager run away,” he chuckles, “And what the fuck is operation croissant?” 

Robin let out a huff. Billy is reacting better than Mr. Hauser had, which makes sense, but still a year later she finds it difficult to explain her ideology. “Yes…no, I mean that doesn’t matter. Everyone thinks that she died, but if Will didn’t die then why would she. Barbara escaped Hawkins and that's what operation croissant is, to escape and go to Paris.” 

“You think she went to Paris?” Billy is grinning as he lights up another cigarette. Robin is about to slide her converse off and chuck them at Billy’s head but that would lead to her beautiful artwork of a shoes plummeting two hundred feet into gross Hawkin’s water.

“No you dickwad,” She flicks his temple, “She probably went to Minnesota or some other state like that, but the point is Mr. Hauser, the teacher I thought helped Barb, told me if I were to run away to Paris I should bring someone along with me. Milton and the other band geeks don’t get it, they aren’t like us.” Robin stops to take a breath. She feels like she is rambling, but Billy never seems too annoyed by it.

She stops staring off at the water and turns to face Billy. His face is painted with an expression she can’t read. Billy scrunches his nose inhaling another huff of smoke, “Are you asking me to go to Pari with you, Rob?”

She turns her gaze back to the water before nodding. “We could go after we graduate. We’ll have all summer and school year to save and then we can leave the day after graduation.”

There was a moment of silence after Robin’s words flooded out of her mouth. She has shared more secrets with Billy than anyone else, but she senses that this over everything else might end their relationship.

“Get out of this hick town and never come back,” Billy makes eye contact before a smile spreads all the way to his eyes, “Fuck yeah, no more Harrington or Thompson.”

For the first time in a long time Robin has hope.

Until July 4th comes and goes.

Robin realizes that people like her, like Billy, like Barb, don’t get to survive Hawkins.

#this is the first thing i wrote in a long time #it is so dialogue heavy too #not sure about how i feel but i wanted to write about robin and billy and how robin thought barb just ran away #hope this is okay #robin buckley #Billy Hargrove #my writing

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Just had an idea, what if s2 was Billy figuring out about the three teens that no one will talk about. And why the prettiest boy he's ever met has gigantic claw marks on his shoulders.

Tommy noticed them, Billy saw him side glance the marks a few times but never bring it up. It was concern and confusion that made Billy’s gut churn, unprecedented emotions based on how roughly they’d been treating Harrington for the last four days, but worry nonetheless.

Billy wanted to reach out and touch them. The almost jagged lines. Like a large cat had jumped him from behind and tore up his shoulders by trying to bring him down. Scars that were mostly healed, leading all the way down just past his shoulder blades.

Tommy set his soap back and didn’t meet Billy’s eyes, “Thought you ditched boy scouts, Harrington?” Billy clenched his fists and tried not to reach over and sucker punch the idiot in the gut.

Steve was all dewy eyed to the point that Billy felt the need to…touch. He lifted a finger. Steve refocused on the two around him and chuckled humorlessly. But gave no other response. Billy made sure to narrow his eyes enough that when Tommy reopened his mouth, it immediately shut again.

-

Steve wasn’t at school the next day. In english, Billy couldn’t help but blame Tommy’s thoughtlessness. Nancy sat next to him with a   medical gauze around her forearm and bags under her eyes. Billy didn’t waver when she caught him staring.

“What do you want, Hargrove?” her voice didn’t steel as much as it usually did.

“Where’s Harrington?” he demanded, almost asked to leave the room after hearing how obvious he sounded.

Nancy raised one of her brows and set her book down, “He’s—” she looked down at her papers. “Just keep to yourself, Hargrove.” He checked the teacher talking to a girl in the front of the room and leaned toward Nancy more so he could speak lower.

“Either you tell me now or I find out sooner or later.” Nancy didn’t lift her chin. “Was it a fight? Did Harrington try to get friendly with the wrong sort again?” He didn’t miss the way Nancy’s fists clenched. “I heard you messed him up a bit last year. Your new boyfriend get too rough or somethin’ again?”

She hunched her shoulders and Billy tilted his ear towards her, “Don’t you dare bring Jonathan into this.”

Billy smirked, “Touchy subject. So,” he looked between her scowl and her brimming tears, “Who was it then? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Steve has perfect attendance. He wouldn’t just skip unless something was wrong, his language grade is bad enough.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I’m just stating a fact.”

Nancy pointed her thin finger at him, “And stop talking like you know him. You don’t know shit. You don’t know what he’s been through or about the monsters that hurt—” She abruptly cut herself off and looked down. Like her mess up was nothing.

But Billy got the gist.

-

Neil went to bed at exactly 10:30 PM every night. That gave Billy approximately nine hours to leave and return.

He left and prayed in curses as he rolled down the street in the dark. Drove all the way to the Harrington house and tried to ignore the shadows as he ran to the front door.

“Open up, Steve!” The door opened less than a minute later. “Why don’t you tell me about anything? Nancy is really bad at giving information and she’s also really bad at keeping her mouth shut, so we’re never telling her about whatever this is for sure.”

“What are you saying, Billy?”

Billy didn’t have an exact answer to Steve’s question. All he knew was that Steve had a nasty cut along his jaw and he limped as he walked through the foyer.

“Was it the shadow things that did this to you?” Steve was brighter than he was perceived, he knew people. And he knew Billy just as much as Billy knew him, maybe even better. He didn’t have to explain things to Harrington.

“When did you see?”

Billy hesitated and then leaned down to pull up his pant leg, revealing the fresh scar by his ankle, “Something grabbed me the other night. Figured the police wouldn’t know what the fuck to do. So…” he shrugged and quieted as he saw Steve nodding.

Harrington started pulling up the hem of his shirt, “We’ve somehow managed to keep this crap under the wraps, it’d be a shit show if we lost it now. Hopper would have our heads.”

Billy followed the shirt as it was strewn over an accent table. He closed his eyes and looked away. Steve’s shoulders were dark, raw pink. Reflections of the old lines were re-etched, something out of a horror movie. He caught more in the mirror above the table by accident and pressed his lips together. The pretty, pale expansion of Steve’s mole spotted back was ruined by even longer rips. Some were badly covered in band-aids while others looked haphazardly stitched together.

“Nancy’s hands shake a lot when she’s under pressure.”

Billy sucked in a breath and straightened up, Steve looked unsurprised at his reaction. He could see him trying to offer a consoling smile, but it landed flat as he shivered in the cold draft of the house.

Billy panicked a little and stepped forward to finally touch, “Common, I’m gonna take care of you, Princess.”

#tw scars #thank you for the ask! #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #billy/steve #stranger things #tommy hagan #nancy wheeler

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Prologue)

Summary: When your college roommate asks you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding, you pack your bags and jump on a flight to Montana. What was supposed to be a relaxing week on the husband-to-be’s ranch is turned upside down when an old flame decides to make an appearance. Mix in lingering feelings, a meddling bride, and the mother of all misunderstandings, and your week out west turns out to be a whole lot more than you bargained for.

series masterlist

playlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.5k

           Spencer gets the email on a Tuesday.

           He’s fresh off of a quick trip to a nearby café that sells the most delectable scones, and he’s eagerly unwrapping one and lifting it to his mouth when he gets the notification. The quiet ping is enough to make him pause with the scone midway to its destination.

Because the thing is, Spencer Reid doesn’t get a lot of emails. In fact, there are approximately ten people that even know his email address, and seven of them are currently in the same room as him. Spencer peers over the top of his monitor and scans the room. No one is doing anything indicative of having sent Spencer yet another prank email (thanks a lot, Luke), so he deems it safe and clicks on the email icon.

           As it boots up, Spencer takes a bite of his scone. The warm, sugary dough tastes like heaven in his mouth, once again proving to Spencer that the fifteen-minute walk there is more than worth his time. He’s mid-swallow when his inbox pops up on the screen, and when he sees the all too familiar name on the sender’s address, he inhales a sharp breath that leaves him choking on his pastry.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Melville

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Sewell

Joyfully request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Cassidy and Mason

Saturday, the twenty-seventh of May

Two thousand nine-teen

           His choking fit garners the attention of every one of his colleagues, but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is sucking in as much air as possible in between coughs. It doesn���t help that his oxygen deprived brain is currently reeling. Long suppressed memories are fighting their way to the surface, and now it’s not only his lungs that are engulfed in a searing heat, but his heart, too.

           Cassidy Sewell. A fiery, opinionated redhead that Spencer hasn’t thought of in nearly fifteen years. But Cassidy isn’t the reason that he feels like a knife has been thrust into his ribcage, nor is she the reason he is currently aspirating his scone. The basis of his distress is another woman entirely.

           Spencer eventually regains control of his windpipe and when he does, he rereads the email several times. It’s wonderful news - really, it is. And he’s happy for Cassidy. His memories of her are plentiful and he thinks back on them fondly. The only problem is that he knows wherever Cassidy is, you’ll be there, too.

           He really should just delete the email and go on about his business - that would be the smart thing to do. But Spencer’s never really been smart when it comes to you, so he does the worst thing possible and clicks on the ‘view recipients’ button.

           And sure enough, your name falls just above his on the list.

           Which brings up another issue entirely; why is he receiving this email? And, more importantly, do you know that he’s been invited? Spencer can only come up with two possible answers to that question, and both are equally heartbreaking. Either you know he’s been invited and you’re indifferent to the fact, or you haven’t a clue and his showing up would be entirely inappropriate.

           He briefly entertains the possibility of a third option; one in which you knew he’d received an invitation and were hopeful that he might show up. Spencer allows this possibility to live in his mind for approximately two seconds before he’s stomping it out and killing it. That’s just… unlikely.

           “Ooh! Who’s getting married?”

           Spencer quickly exits out of his email and spins around in his chair to find Penelope pouting her lip out at him.

           “No one. Just a spam email,” Spencer lies. His efforts are in vain, however, because Penelope fixes him with an unimpressed glare.

           “I’m going to save you and I both the trouble of me hacking into your computer and offer you the opportunity to try that again.”

           Spencer visibly deflates and mentally curses the creators of the interconnected computer networks. He weighs his options. He could be completely honest and be subjected Penelope’s endearing, yet suffocating enthusiasm, or he could skim a little bit off the top and hope she doesn’t pump him for information.

           Spencer decides on the latter.

           “An old friend.”

           Penelope narrows her eyes at him and he shrinks under her gaze. She might not be a profiler, but she damn sure could be.

           “Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?”

           “No reason.”

           They’ve reached a stalemate, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Usually, if this were a chest match, Spencer would already have the upper hand. He’s not used to being backed into a corner. At first, Spencer’s sure that he can outlast Penelope’s inquisition, but the longer those seemingly omniscient eyes of hers bore into his own, he can feel his resolve crumbling into nothing. All it takes is her lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge for him to break.

           “An ex-girlfriend of mine will be in attendance.”

           Spencer knows he’s fucked from the way Penelope’s entire face lights up upon hearing that little tidbit of information. In a flash Penelope’s dragging over an empty chair and seating herself directly in front of Spencer, eyes shining excitedly.

           “Tell me everything.”

           So, he does.

           And an hour later, Penelope is booking him a flight to Montana.

--

           “I cannot believe you did this to me,” you murmur into the receiver as you stare at your computer screen. Your eyes are zeroed in on the email, but all the words are blurring together into an intelligible mess. All except two.

           Spencer Reid

           “Correction; I did this for you,” Cassidy replies, sounding awfully pleased with herself. If you could see her, you were certain she’d be grinning ear to ear. “You can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit excited at the possibility of seeing him again.”

           “That is exactly what I’m telling you!” you groan as you throw your head against the back of your chair. “Fifteen years is a long time, Cass. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure he has, too. That door is closed.”

           Cassidy snorts, “Well open that sucker back up, because I just got an RSVP from one Doctor Spencer Reid who, and I quote, ‘cannot wait to see everyone.’ This RSVP came without a plus one, might I add.”

           You jolt up in your seat and instantly regret it when your stomach churns painfully as a result. Suddenly, your decision to place your waste basket on the opposite side of the room seems awfully ill advised. The only thing keeping you from lunging for it and expelling the contents of your stomach is the fact that he isn’t bringing anyone with him, which is… something.

           “He’s coming?” you squeak out. “Why would he do that?”

           Another laugh from Cassidy floats out through the speaker.

           “Well, I’d like to think he might be going to see one of his oldest and dearest friends get married, but I think we both know that this has nothing to do with me, and a whole lot to do with you.”

           You’re just about to open your mouth to protest when a head of long, blonde hair peeks through the crack of your door. You only know one man with a head of hair like that, and that man just so happens to be the only other person in your life that lives for taking the piss at your expense. You can’t help but think that you must’ve done something terrible in a past life to be subjected to all of this before noon on a Tuesday morning.

           You wave Damien in, because why the hell not? He’d be hearing about it over one or several bottles of wine this evening, anyways. What was one more spectator to the worst moment of your entire adult life?

           As he takes his seat in a chair in front of your desk, you flash him a tight smile and turn your attention back to Cassidy.

           “You’re reading way too much into this. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

           “You know that boy does not forget anything,” Cassidy points out.

           Yeah, you think, and that’s what makes not hearing from him for fifteen years even worse. That means the radio silence was a choice.

           “Doesn’t matter. You need to uninvite him. I’m being so serious right now.”

           “I absolutely will not. That’d be terribly rude of me,” Cassidy sniffs. “And you obviously have no choice but to attend, Miss Maid of Honor, so consider this your warning. I was going to keep this a secret, but Mason said that would be cruel. So.”

           You want to argue that the entire thing is cruel, but Cassidy’s indifference to your plight leads you to believe that your protest would fall on deaf ears. To make matters worse, Damien looks positively delighted at the prospect of something exciting happening. He’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an attempt to hear Cassidy’s end of the conversation.

           You really needed to pick more sympathetic friends.

           “I’m going to hang up now, because I physically cannot handle being a part of this conversation any longer.”

           “That’s the spirit!” Cassidy trills. “Trust me, you’re going to thank me for this later. Oh, and do yourself a favor and Google search him. You will not be disappointed!”

           At that, the line goes dead. You don’t even have the chance to say something embarrassing like too late, I already do that like twice a year, which is probably a good thing.

           You slam down the phone and let your head fall into your hands, adding in a dramatic groan for good measure. Usually, you like to think you’re a little more level headed, but the Spencer Reid sized hole in your heart that you’d been trying to mend for the last decade and a half was just ripped wide open, so you figure you deserve a moment to panic.

           Damien, however, doesn’t share that same belief.

           “I get that you’re trying to have a moment, and I respect that, but you know how impatient I get and I haven’t seen you this upset since One Direction split up. Color me intrigued. What did dear Cassidy do to get your knickers in such a twist?”

           You lift your head and fix him with a withering look.

           “She invited Spencer.”

           That wipes the smile right off of Damien’s face.

           “Oh, fuck,” Damien swears. Finally, someone understands how extremely not okay this situation is. You let out another despairing groan. “What are the chances he’s actually going to show up?”

           You chuckle bitterly, “Pretty fucking high, if you consider the fact that he already RSVP’d any indication.” You push away from your desk and begin to pace around the room, all while fanning your shirt out because holy hell did it get hot in here, or is it just you? “I mean, I could always back out. It’s Cassidy’s fault anyways. It’s not like she could hold that against me. She’s the one who did this, after all.”

           “Oh, she most certainly would. And you’re not going to going to skip out on the wedding - quit being so dramatic.”

            You snap your head to where he sits and narrow your eyes at him.

           “Oh, I’m not? Who’s gonna stop me?” you challenge.

           You can practically see the light bulb go on inside that blonde head of his. Damien gives you a saccharine smile and claps his hands together.

           “I am. Because I’m going to go with you,” he announces excitedly. You’d think he just came up with a way to end world hunger from the pride that’s practically radiating off of him in waves. 

           You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re going to come with me? To Montana? Have you ever even been outside of New York?”

            Damien shrugs his shoulders.

           “No, but that’s about to change. Plus, weddings are fun,” Damien pauses, before tacking on, “-bridesmaids are fun.”

           If he weren’t such a damn good friend, you’d throw him out of your office.

           His proposition was tempting. Being in close proximity with Spencer for almost an entire week was going to be harrowing as it was, but add to that the inevitable sight of Spencer in a suit and harrowing graduates to fucking excruciating. Having Damien in your corner to keep you sane was more of a necessity than a want.

           But still, you hesitate, because the idea of both Cassidy and Damien conspiring against you for an entire week sounds like the undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

           Damien apparently senses your apprehension. He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes up from his seat, walking over to where you stand and placing his hands on your shoulders.

           “I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior. You have my permission to fire me if I act up, Boss Lady.”

           Your shoulders slump under the weight of his hands.

           “You know I can’t fire you,” you grumble, pouting out your lip for dramatic effect. “If I fire you, then I’m stuck with fucking Brenda. And I doubt she’d be as agreeable a drinking partner as you.”

           Damien lets out a loud laugh and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, sighing in resignation. Might as well bring him along for the ride. It’s not like the situation could get any worse than it already is, right?

           “Brenda is the worst,” Damien agrees as he places a kiss to the top of your head. After basking in his warm embrace for several moments, you pull away and run a hand through your hair.

           “Okay. Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Damien. “I can do this. Worst comes to worst; I can just avoid him. Five days isn’t that long. I can do five days.”

           Damien leans up against your desk and nods in agreeance.

           “Exactly. Five days, in and out – no big deal,” he breezes. Like the absolute bastard he is, he waits until you’re taking a sip from your travel mug before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe the two of you will pick up where you left off and have some slutty wedding sex.”

           Now, there’s coffee all over your white blouse and Damien’s laughing obnoxiously at your expense.

           “You did not just quote One Tree Hill at me,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

           Damien doesn’t waver under the weight of your death glare.

           “I so did. Best show of our time, truly. Chase hit the nail on the head with that one. Weddings are always an absolute bone fest - trust me. Something about all the proclamations of love and eternal commitment gets everyone all hot and bothered.”

           “There will be no slutty wedding sex,” you mutter as you dab at the coffee stain.

           “There will be if I’m going,” Damien trills as he pushes off of your desk and saunters to the door. “Don’t rule it out, babe. No need to miss out on all the fun!”

           You roll your eyes and toss the wadded-up paper towel at him. Damien is quick to shut the door, resulting in the paper towel hitting it with a wet plop.

           Damien’s absence leaves the room uncomfortably silent, save for the sound of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You hesitantly lift your eyes back to your computer screen, and as irrational as it is, you pray that you’ll see that something has changed in the past ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his name is still there, just below your own.

           You silently curse the tiny twinge of excitement you feel from seeing his name and exit out of the email.

           Five days, in and out. No big deal.

-

-

-

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck​ @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​ @lovesicksofi​ @idgafayiowf​ @shadyladyperfection​ @mercy-burning​ @sapphic-prentiss​

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid fic #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler self insert #matthew gray gubler #mgg #bau #icyhwm #my writing

[honeypirate]

Obsidian Wings

Aizawa x reader

Death AU

I’ve never written anything like this so I thought I’d give it a try! :)

Special appearances by: Midnight, Hizashi Yamada, Toshinori Yagi

Prompt: A creature at the gates of the afterlife allows every soul that passes through to ask it one question. Used to being asked questions such as "What is the meaning of life?" and "How many people loved me?", it's taken aback when a soul asks "How was your day?" instead.

Warnings: a little swearing

They say when you die you see a light at the end of a tunnel. What you didn’t expect was it to be a long line of souls waiting to get checked in to the afterlife and sorted into an array of different destinations. You weren’t really too thrilled to be sorted into your version of heaven or hell but until that happened all you could do was wait, slowly moving up in line after each soul ahead of you gets their destination.

The closer you get to the light you realize it’s just a brightly lit golden train station with a creature on a pedestal at the entrance gates taking names. You couldn’t see the creature very well, they were in the only shadow the station offered, the shadow from the gate itself, but you could see wings and you couldn’t take your eyes from them.

They were blacker than you ever seen with flecks of gold that when you moved closer you realized were sparks and flames every time they ruffled them.

When you were up next you realized it was a man “Name?” He asks when you step up to him and it’s then you realize you’re next. “Oh! Um Y/n L/n” as you say your name the book that’s floating in the air in front of him glows, flipping through pages until it lands on yours, bringing up a picture of you and a summary of your life.

“Before we begin you may have one question. Ask me anything and I will tell you the answer” you hum, you didn’t really have any questions you wanted to know. You didn’t care about people you left behind, there was nothing you could do so what was the info about them going to help? The meaning of life never bothered you either, you always thought the meaning was kindness and love and you didn’t mind continuing to believe that.

You hum again softly before looking back to his face “how was your day?” You ask and rock on your toes. He’s frozen for a moment, you use your one question to ask about him? He’s never had that happen before. He clears his throat “it’s been long” he says, voice incredibly honest and you nod “I bet. This seems like monotonous work” he nods “it can get that way sometimes” you look to his wings when he ruffles them and you wonder if it’s an anxious thing he does or if it’s unconscious. Needless to say you were mesmerized by the sparks floating to the ground “I like your wings” you say and he feels his cheeks warm “uh.. thank you” he says, suddenly feeling like he was on a date or something and not at his job.

His eyes, they are stuck on you. He looks over your face and feels as if the wind has been knocked from him. You are the most beautiful soul he’s ever seen. He feels a pull within him, like you’re attached to his very soul, like the fates sent you to him. You would blush under his gaze if you were in a body but since you’re just a soul you manage to smile shyly and glance down to his book.

He hums once, before turning his attention back to your page, trying to calm the racing heart in his chest. ‘Artist, nice. Supported local businesses, donated to charities, volunteered at many animal shelters, took care of her sick mother, supported her sibling, … she was a saint it seems.’ He thinks to himself

Aizawa gets to the end of the page and reads ‘level 8’ and his stomach drops ‘what the fuck did she do to get the worst level?’ He looks from the page then to you, then back to the page, then back to you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask and he frowns “I’m not sure. You are y/n l/n who’s parents were (parents names) who had a cat named Jonathan and who’s best friend was (bff name) and who volunteered at the animal shelter?” You nod and his frown deepens “what did you do?” He asks and leans down to look at you closer

He leans down and you get a smell of him, he smelled like fresh air and mint, it was alluring and you unconsciously leaned a little forward yourself “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He opens his mouth to explain but a man with golden wings and hair comes and throws his arm around the darker man, a big grin “it’s your lucky day Aizawa! Your shift is over!” Aizawa grunts and shoves his arms off him, closing his book and having it disappear before he steps off his platform. You take a good look at the man who steps on the platform after him. Golden wings that seemed to glow, a black pinstripe three piece suit that as you watched, he took off the jacket and hung it on part of the gate. He rolled up his sleeves and sent a wink your way.

“you’re three hours late Yamada” Aizawa says and he just laughs, holding his hand out palm up as his own book appears. It looked similar to Aizawa’s except that it was DIY bedazzled “but I’m here aren’t I? Stop complaining” Aizawa rolls his eyes and looks at you “please follow me” you nod but he’s already walking away, leaving you to scramble to catch up.

“What’s going on?” You ask as you walk quickly beside him “the book says you’re a saint, all good things. But you’re sent to level 8 which is someplace I don’t think you should go”

Your steps falter for a moment and he turns to look at you, noticing the way you chew your lip and the worry in your eyes, he leads you down several confusing hallways that progressively change from golden to black, until he opens the one with his name on it.

“Okay. Tell me what you did” he says as he sits at his desk and you sigh, sitting on the chair in front of him you raise your arms in defeat “I may have killed an angel” you whisper and he is stoic for a moment before he busts up into laughter. He’s holding his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes as you chuckle softly, mostly because of how cute he was when he laughed.

“You killed an angel? You? Little innocent animal saver?” You frown and cross your arms “yes. I did. With his sparkly sword” Aizawa stops laughing then and places his hands on his desk “you killed an angel with a seraph blade?” He asks quietly and you sigh “it was an accident though I swear”

He waits quietly as you gather your thoughts and tell him your story “there was a large black dog in the road and this guy hit it with his car on purpose. I was so mad! I went to save it, to step in, but he was quite a large man. He told me he was an angel and the dog had to die. I saw the blade in his belt and I grabbed it, standing between him and the dog I told him to back up. He started laughing, unfurled his golden wings, and then he lunged for the dog and I stabbed him. He and the sword disappeared into golden air and then when I turned around the dog was gone. I was too in shock to notice the truck coming around the bend and -“ you smack your hands together signifying how you died.

“You’re very calm about it now” he says and you shrug “I’m dead. What can I do? No reason to flip” Aizawa stands “come with me. There’s someone we can talk to, maybe he can fix it.”

“Where are we?” You ask this time as you follow him through the station that seemed more like a maze, making your way back to the golden hallways. “we‘re at The Station. It’s a midway point between death and the after life. I’m an Angel of death who works at the gates and leads people to the right destination. The station is run by angels of life and angels of death with the bosses being Yagi, the original Angel of Life, and Midnight, the original Angel of Death. We’re going to see Yagi. Angels of life are down golden hallways, death down the black ones” You hum in acknowledgement, signifying you understood before sighing and saying

“and not that I’m not, ya know, super grateful that the hot guardian of the gates is helping me… but .. why are you helping me?” You ask and he clears his throat, pretending to not be phased by the fact you called him the hot guardian of the gates, “I just think it’s not right. Someone as kind as you shouldn’t be sent there” you hum softly, a smile tugging at your lips, but you don’t ask any more questions for the time being.

He knocks on a large golden door, a stern voice yelling out “enter” making your ears prick in recognition. Aizawa opens the door and you lean around his wings to look inside the office. “Aizawa” you whisper as you stare into the eyes of the Angel of Life “that’s him” Aizawa looks down at you “that’s who?” He asks and you look up into his eyes, yours wide with shock “that’s the angel I almost killed”

Aizawa looks at Yagi for a few beats and then leans in, grabbing the door and slowly closing it again between them and Yagi. “You stabbed HIM?” He asks in a whispered yell and you nod sheepishly. “That means the dog was a demon hound. You stabbed an angel and saved a demon hound.” He thinks for a moment before leaning in close “no one holds a grudge like Toshinori. We’re gonna need a little more help” you hear yelling behind his door and the sound of grunting as he pulled himself out of his chair and made his way around the desk.

Aizawa tries to move you but his fingers go through your soul and then he just points to the corner “hide!” You quickly run down the hall and around the corner just as the door opens again. “Aizawa. You’re alone?” Yagi asks, holding his side as he leans out the door to look in the hallway “yes sir. Just me. Just wanted to see how you were. I heard you've been hurt” he says quickly, trying to cover the reason he was there. “Oh! Yes. Some girl. The guts she had to save a demon didn’t get her far HA” he chuckles as he makes his way back into his office. “Well that’s all. I’m glad you’re doing well sir but I should..” toshinori puts his hand on Aizawa’s shoulder and leads him further into the office.

You lean against the wall and wait, wondering why, if his hands passed through you, you don’t pass through the wall. You place your palm against the wall and knock a few times, feeling like you were solid. You kick it and the same. You frown and keep gently slapping the wall wondering why you don’t go through it.

“What did the wall ever do to you?” A familiar voice like a song said behind you and you gasp, turning around and grabbing your chest. The golden angel from before laughs “sorry if I scared ya” he says and leans in “weren’t you the soul who left with Aizawa?” You nod and stand up a little straighter “I’m waiting for him actually” you say and he grins “perfect! I’ll wait with you. I need to talk to him” he leans up against the wall beside you “so. Why were you beating up the wall?” He asks with a lopsided grin, his golden hair falling into his eyes.

“I was wondering why I don’t go through them if people can’t touch me like this” you say, your cheeks feeling warm but knowing it’s just a phantom feeling. “They’re enchanted. This is the Station! Can’t have ghosts going wherever they please” he says with a laugh and you’d die of embarrassment if you weren’t already dead “right that makes sense”

When Aizawa returns thirty minutes later he looks even more exhausted than he did before. “Yagi likes to tell stories” Hizashi said into your ear and you giggled “what are you doing here?” Aizawa asks Hizashi and you move to stand beside him. “I had something I wanted to tell you but now it’s obvious you have something going on that you desperately need help with” Aizawa doesn't even try to deny it, he just glares at the golden angel. “I knew it!” Hizashi said with a grin and then places his palm flat on the wall, a golden door popping up in the space. “..how did..” you begin to question and Aizawa sighs “angels can open doors wherever they need if that said door was enchanted by them. Usually just the door to their home since everything else is easily accessible” a small “oh” leaves your mouth as Hizashi opens the door and ushers you both inside.

“Now talk” he said as he flips on his light, illuminating the open space of what looked like a living room except everything was gold and white. “Get your book” Aizawa says and Hizashi does, raising his hand palm to the ceiling and his thick bedazzled book materializes in his hand. “Y/n say your name” Aizawa orders and you do “y/n l/n” you say quietly and the book opens, flipping a few pages before landing on yours.

“Aww you had a cat named Jonathan! He was chubby and sweet!” You grin and nod remembering your cat “Zashi” Aizawa says sternly and he laughs “alright alright. I’m looking I’m looking I’m look-... level eight? How?” His eyes flick up to meet Aizawa’s and he looks to you “tell him”

Laughter fills the apartment “she stabbed Yagi with his own blade and saved a demon hound!” He can’t believe it. You put your hands on your hips “that dog was defenseless. He needed my help” “yeah and now you need mine. There’s no way he’s going to overturn this. Unless” you look up at him “unless what?”

“No. Absolutely not” Aizawa folds his arms, his wings ruffling and sparks falling to the ground. “Hey keep your sparks out of my home! And yes! It’s the only way. We invite Toshinori and Midnight to dinner and we have her plead her case. You know Midnight doesn’t stand for bending the rules for your own grudges and she’s the only one high enough to force Toshinori’s hand.” Aizawa groans “you know I’m right” Hizashi says with a smile and Aizawa groans even louder “fine. Tomorrow night. She’ll stay with me tonight since I have a spare bedroom”

Hizashi chuckles “dude she’s a ghost. She doesn’t sleep”

“well she can’t just wander around she’ll get caught and sent to level eight”

“I think we should have a sleepover”

“No.”

“Yep. I’ll be over later when I get my things together”

“You will not”

“Bet”

Aizawa groans knowing he can’t stop him

“Why are you helping anyway?” Aizawa asks and Hizashi pauses with a smile “because you don’t do anything against the rules unless it’s the right thing to do. Why are you helping her?” He asks with an eyebrow raised and Aizawa clears his throat, his cheeks warming, “she.. she doesn’t belong in 8”

“Exactly. So let’s keep her out of the eighth” hizashi pays Aizawa’s shoulder with a chuckle before sending a wink your way “now go, I’ll be over soon”

Aizawa places his palm against the door and it turns from gold to black. He opens the door and lets you through first before looking back to Hizashi “thank you for your help” he says and Hizashi waggles his eyebrows “I always got your back yo” he gives him finger guns with a laugh as the door closes.

Aizawa’s place was cozy. It had a big living room with black couches that you can see are super comfortable, it has an attached kitchen with black marble countertops and dark stained wooden cupboards. The floors' hardwood matched the cupboards and the living room had a big stone fireplace with a large television above it. There was a hallway you guessed led to the bathroom and bedrooms.

“Oooh I like this a lot better than gold” you say and he feels his heart skip. A thought he doesn’t dare entertain entered his head and he pushes it out just as quick. — You looked like you belonged here and he liked seeing you in his home. —

“All furniture in this realm is enchanted so you don’t have to worry about that” he says as you walk through his living room. You gasp for a moment then look down, realizing you should have taken off your shoes but you’re met with a semi transparent pair of toes. “What’s wrong?” He asks and you laugh gently “I thought I forgot to take off my shoes but I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m just a soul” you hold out a foot “at least my toes are still painted though!” You say with a grin and he chuckles, you looked adorable.

“Usually you look like you do when you die in regards to clothing” he states and sits on one of the large sofas. “Oooh so that means that truck hit me so hard my shoes came off” you chuckle softly

“you’re the strangest girl I’ve ever met. You’re taking this better than I’ve seen anyone” you shrug and sit on the other side of the couch, pulling your knees up.

“I had a good life. I mean yes I had friends and family I know I’ll miss and they will miss me because come on, I’m funny and sweet and amazing in all ways” he chuckles and you feel the familiar blushing feeling without the warmth on your cheeks. “But it doesn’t help anyone if I freak out. I can’t change it. I can’t go back. All I can do is make the most of my life now. This is it. Gotta make it the best” he smiles at you for a moment, impressed by your attitude. His heart pangs when he realizes he won’t get to see you again once you go to your level after tomorrow night.

“What’s life like here?” You ask and he lets out a laugh that just was air out his nose “what do you mean?” He asks but doesn’t move from his spot, head back with his eyes closed. “tell me about your life here” you cross your legs and face him, leaning your elbows against your knees.

“Well” he says “I work at the gate in the mornings, I do my paperwork, I get sent on different missions to the underworld or to the upper worlds. I have friends and we get drinks on friday nights” you hum “do you date? What is that like here?” He opens an eye and looks at you “why? Interested in Hizashi or something?” You bury your face in your hands and chuckle “no! I was just curious! It’s very similar to my life. I think that’s cool. Can you die?” He laughs at your reaction, not missing the way his heart relaxed when you said you weren’t interested in Hizashi. “Kind of, yeah. But It’s hard to do.”

You ask him any questions you can think of, slowly moving closer together on the couch. you’re thigh to thigh but he can’t feel you and you are only vaguely aware of his thigh right beside yours. “Let me see your hand” you say softly and he raises his hand palm up and holds it out. “Close your eyes” you say and he hums, a small smile on the corners of his lips as his eyes close. You try and use the feelings you have, pulling all the comfort and happiness you’ve felt today and how grateful you are for his help, how cool and cute you think he is, “tell me if you feel anything” you whisper and then slowly slide your hand against his palm.

He gasps softly and you smile, you felt him this time and he felt you. His head raises to look at your hands and he closes his fingers around yours. “You’re so warm” he says and you laugh happily “Im grateful to know you” you say and look up into his eyes “no matter what happens tomorrow. If we can’t convince him and I have to go to level 8. Thank you for this experience and for letting me get to know you” his other hand reaches up, you feel his fingers ghost over your cheek, it tingled and made you smile. “Y/n I..”

Whatever spell was on you both, whatever made it so he could touch you, was broken when Hizashi came through the front door. “HEYYOOO” he said and kicked the door closed behind him.

His hand phased through yours and so did the one on your cheek. Aizawa lets out a sigh and you laugh as you stand from the couch “hey Hizashi. Good to see you again” you said with a shaky breath but he didn’t notice anything.

“So here’s the plan” hizashi said as he sets down bags of ingredients, some of which you don’t recognize. “I sent emails to both Midnight and Toshinori, saying that the other requests them at a dinner that will be held and I just put your door number. They’ll definitely be here at six pm tomorrow. We will feed them and y/n here will apologize for stabbing Toshinori and then Midnight will make him change it since his ruling is against the rules” Aizawa stares at Hizashi for a few beats until he leans forward “Hizashi that’s a terrible plan. You should have talked to us first before you sent any emails. Now there’s a possibility we will lose our jobs. We should have met them somewhere like the station cafe.” Hizashi just rolls his eyes “it’s a great plan. It’s happening you’re welcome everything will be fine. Midnight owes me one..” You look between Hizashi and Aizawa with wide eyes. Not really knowing what to say or do.

“What do I..” Aizawa holds up a hand and you wait.

“We’ll make it work.” He says “We will just have to have a good case. Which I think we do since you were such a saint. We’ll plead it that you thought it was a normal dog, paired with your volunteer work, it should be okay” you smile, feeling a little relieved.

“no ones gonna talk about how gate keeper golden boy here is owed by the original angel of death Midnight?” You ask and look between them, Aizawa rolls his eyes and Hizashi laughs like it’s a funny story “no? Okay then” You say and Hizashi leans in “I’ll tell ya later” Aizawa sighs “Let’s just go over what you’ll say”

After you spent the next hour spitballing what you should say to them, the rest of the night was actually really fun. Learning more about these men as Hizashi keeps talking. It was like when you would hang out with your friends when you were alive, having fun just being around the people you care about. You could tell that no matter how annoyed Aizawa acts, he really cares about Hizashi. They’re best friends.

A while later, when the jokes and laughing died down, Hizashi was laying on his stomach on the floor, his wings spread out a little and Aizawa had his feet up on the coffee table as he dozed in his spot. You were staring at and admiring Aizawa’s feathers. His right wing edge rested beside you on the couch and you were running your fingers through them, barely able to touch them but when you got it to work they would spark under your touch and it would make Aizawa smile just barely but that was enough to make you keep doing it. It was a little ticklish but he liked that you wanted to touch them, liked that you were giving him attention.

“So who’s wings are bigger?” You ask and Hizashi groans into his arm while Aizawa chuckles. “What?” You ask and Hizashi looks up “he’s just smug because his wings are bigger. Mine are prettier though” Hizashi says and stands, opening his wings fully and shaking them out, golden fractured light falling through them as they seemed to buzz. You chuckle “they are very pretty” you say and Aizawa puts his feet down. he grunts when he stands, his knees popping as he makes his way over to the middle of the room.

He smirks at Hizashi before turning and looking at you with a wink. He slowly unfurls his wings, they were longer and more full than Hizashi’s, golden and red sparks falling to the ground as he ruffles the feathers which were obsidian and shiny. You gasp and Hizashi just rolls his eyes hidden behind the obsidian wall.

“You’re breathtaking” you say and stand, wanting to get a closer look. You reach out and run your fingertips down the edge, a spark coming from your fingertips against his wing when you touch and you gasp pulling your hand back “sorry!” He just laughs “it didn’t hurt” he said and you smile and reach out again to touch him but Hizashi is shoving his wings closed “no more of this” he’s saying and you laugh as you get out of the way for them to fight over wings.

It ended with Aizawa holding Hizashi’s arms down and his wings down with his own, to a bystander it looked like a very intense hug. You wish you could take a picture. “Do you guys have phone or cameras here?” You ask and Hizashi points to his bag before going back to his struggle with Aizawa. You grin when you find a phone similar to yours when you were alive “k! now smile!” You say and Aizawa looks over with an an amused look and Hizashi immediately put up his hands in peace signs and sticks out his tongue.

“Oh that’s so cute” you say and Hizashi breaks from Aizawa’s hood to come look “oh it is! It’s now my Lock Screen. Now people will actually believe me when I tell them I’m your best friend awww!!!” You smile and laugh at the little blush that’s on Aizawa’s cheeks.

Aizawa gave his room to Hizashi who squealed with glee “his bed is the most comfortable” he said before heading down the hallway “you can have the spare room” you laugh “Aizawa I don’t sleep” he laughs “I know but still. It’s space for you to use. I’ll have the couch.”

You lay in the bed for a few hours. Looking out the window at a sky with stars you didn’t recognize. You sigh and toss and turn before giving up all together. A small crash sounds from the livingroom and you get up to go check.

“Are you okay?” You ask he looks up to you from where he’s cleaning up a broken glass. “I’m okay. Sorry if I disturbed you” he says and you smile “no I was just laying there. I don’t think it’s possible for me to sleep” you say and sit in the couch where you were before “you can take the bed, you need it more than I do” he throws away the broken glass and then sits down next to you “it’s okay. Really” you sit there together in the silence and the dark. “Were you always an angel?” You ask and he nods “how old are you?” He laughs “angels don’t age after they reach 30 and 30 years here are longer than earth years. I can’t tell you my exact age, but I have been around for a long time”

He feels oddly relaxed next to you, the anxiety he had felt as he tried to sleep on the couch was gone now that you were here. You take the pillow from the side of the couch, smiling when you’re able to touch it and move it. You place it against his thigh and curl up against him on the couch. He gasps softly, his hand hovers above your shoulder for a moment before he tries to rest it against you.

His smile spreads when his hand touches you, the warmth of your soul feeling solid as his hand rests against your shoulder. He drags his fingers down to your elbow and then back up to your shoulder. “I don’t know how it’s working but don’t stop” you say and he chuckles, his fingers keep brushing against you gently and it sends tingles to your heart, before you know it your eyes flutter closed and the soft tingles lull you into a semi sleep.

“Oh if only ghosts showed up in pictures” Hizashi says and then snaps the photo “oh wait they do on my enchanted camera!” He laughs and pulls up the photo, smiling at how cute it was. You’re asleep on his lap and his hand is resting on your hip as he’s turned into you. He shakes Aizawa’s shoulder “you’re gonna be late” he says and Aizawa groans “thanks” he mumble as he gently gets up and moves, making sure to not wake you.

When you wake up it takes you a moment to know where you are, you thought it would be a dream but nope you really are dead and are really on the couch at the house of an angel of death. “Good morning sunshine” Hizashi said “we get to hang out until Aizawa gets off work” he had a look of mischief in his eye it made you a little scared if you were being honest

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask for the seventh time as Hizashi finishes enchanting items of clothing. “Yes it’s fine. We will just put you in some clothes and a hat and then I can show you around”

You looked in a mirror and all you saw was a floating giant furry black coat and large hat with black boots that were surprisingly your size “Is this fine? Is this normal?” He laughs and nods “of course! Would I lead you astray?” You look at him with one raised eyebrow “I actually think you might” you say and he laughs, snapping his fingers and changing his outfit into tailored black pants, a button up light blue shirt tucked, and a black vest with a golden pocket watch. “Let’s go!” He says with excitement and places his palm against the door, it turns red and he squeals “you’re gonna love this!”

You didn’t really love it. He took you to the mall and to this cafe he frequents and it had so many people you felt stressed. He used you to hold his bags and listen to his angel gossip which was interesting at first but now you couldn’t care less about if Sandra had her baby yet or why he wasn’t invited to the baby shower.

He takes you back to his apartment and you sigh in relief by putting down all his bags. “Stay here I’ll go get Aizawa” he says and before you can even respond he’s changed the door and Aizawa is walking in. “What did he do?” Aizawa asks and you sigh, throwing down the fur coat and hat, shaking out your hair even though it still looks fine.

“I don’t even know where to start” you say and he laughs, changing the door and holding it open for you. You admire him as you cross the room to the door, black straight jeans, a dark green button up with the top few buttons undone showing a little of his trimmed chest hair. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows and tucked in with a black belt and black ankle boots that look like he could kick anyone's ass. You would blush if you had blood, he blushes from your soft gaze and the obvious way you took him in. “Green looks really good on you” you say as you pass him and he smiles “thank you”

You tell him about your day as you help him prepare the dinner, he isn’t shocked at all and it makes you laugh. “He’s just like that?” You ask and he nods “our entire life has been similar” you laugh and smile, thinking about them growing up together. “Do you think this is going to work?” You ask and he sighs “I really hope so” he says sincerely, his voice soft.

Hizashi comes through the door ten minutes before six and you feel that if you had a heart it would be racing. “I’m going to die” you whisper and Aizawa smiles and looks down at you “it’s going to be okay. Plus you’re already dead” you stick your tongue out at him and he smiles “it’s okay. We have your back” Hizashi adds and then the doorbell rings.

“thank you for coming” Aizawa says as they come inside and sit at the table. “Why are we here?” Midnight asks and that’s when you speak up “I would like to apologize to the angel that I stabbed” you say and then Toshinoris eyes land on you and he gasps “you!” He says and you nod “I asked them if they would help me apologize because I shouldn’t have done that” you bow your head “we thought a dinner would be nice way to apologize and then maybe I could ask you to change my level” you say, your head still down

“Wait? What’s your level?” Midnight asks and she sets down her knife and fork to hold her hand out palm up, her book was smaller than the rest and all black with red lined pages “name” she asks and you raise your head “y/n l/n” you say clearly and her pages open to yours.

“EIGHT?” She exclaims and looks at Toshinori who folds his arms and looks away with a smug smirk “I stand by my choice” he says and turns his chin up “oh you big baby! Change it right now!” Toshinori sighs and throws up his hands “fine!” He says and flicks his wrist “it’s done”. You watch midnight's book reflect the change. “What’s level 1?” You ask and Aizawa sighs in relief “it’s good. You’ll be happy there” he says, his smile not really reaching his eyes.

He was told by many people that he could be happy here, but he’s never once felt that happiness until he had met you. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not when your happiness is in a different place.

“I’ll take her there myself” Midnight says and stands, dusting off her skirt “r-right now?” You ask with wide eyes and she nods “no time like the present” “o-oh! Okay!” You all stand quickly and you look at Hizashi and Aizawa “thank you guys for helping me. I really can’t ever repay you. I guess if you’re ever at my level look me up?” You laugh awkwardly and they nod with a smile.

Midnight is waiting at the door tapping her toe in impatience. “I guess. Goodbye” you say and turn to go but gasp when Aizawa’s hand grabs yours, firm like you weren’t just a soul, and pulls you to his chest, hugging you tight. You wrap your arms around him, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge the pull you felt to him. You sigh and hold on to him for just a moment “goodbye” he whispers and then let’s you go. When his arms let you go you’re turning and walking out the door.

The walk through the halls was quiet until you made it back to the main station. She walks you all the way to the gate before turning to look at you. She cups your cheek and looks deep into your eye for a moment like she was trying to read your soul.

“There’s another option, you know” she says and let’s go of your face. “What do you mean?” You ask “you can go to level one, build worlds and live forever with unlimited power. Or” he says and looks back deep into your eyes again. “You become an angel of death. You stay here, as my charge. You’ll work under Aizawa and he’ll train you” you feel your heart race. It’s not even a choice for you, you know that’s what you want. You’ll have this life with him over any level of heaven. “Can I.. can I ask him?” You ask and she laughs “of course!” Her hand slaps the brick next to the train tracks and a black door emerges “I can find all doors within this realm” she explains and then knocks.

Aizawa’s phone pings and he pulls it from his back pocket “what’s this?” He asks Hizashi as he opens his message “it’s a picture from this morning, I thought you might want it. rare Aizawa Emotion captured on film.” Hizashi says with a laugh but Aizawa isn’t listening. He’s staring at the picture of you in his lap sleeping, how his body is turned towards you. His heart feels like it cracks a little but his oncoming sadness was postponed by a knock to his door.

“Hi” you say softly when he answers “hi” he says, a little confused. You chuckle and rock on your feet “I was given a second option” you say and he feels his heart race. He lets go of his door and steps closer to you “what is it” he asks and you smile, tilting your chin up to match him “I .. I can become an angel of death. I can stay here. She’d have you train me” he can’t help the small smile on his lips “is that.. something you want? Do you know what you’re giving up in level one?” He asks and you nod softly “I know what’s there.... I want what’s here. but only if you don’t mind training me” you say and he shakes his head immediately “I don’t mind!” He says quick and maybe a bit too loud

“Try not to be so desperate!” Hizashi yells from the background somewhere and you laugh

“I’m not.. I’m not desperate” he says and scratches his neck and you chuckle, seeing full well in his eyes just how desperate he is to tell you to stay with him. “I’d like to stay here, Miss Midnight, if you would” you turn to her with a smile and she leans in, kissing your forehead

You gasp, your body beginning to tingle as you become a solid again. You get a shiver as you feel a body again, laughing you look down at your hands, now solid and not transparent anymore. “Look at me!” You say with a laugh “take her by HR Monday morning they’ll get her set up” midnight says and then walks through a door she’s already brought up.

You walk into Aizawa’s apartment and Hizashi comes up from the couches “woah man look at her wings!” He says and you gasp, looking behind you as you’re suddenly aware of the ability to move them. They unfurl a little more and turn out to be a little smaller than Hizashi’s. Obsidian black with iridescent hues to the edges. “They’re beautiful” Aizawa says and reaches out to cup your cheek

“I’m just gonna..” hizashi points behind him and then walks to far wall, summoning his door and disappearing.

“You stayed” he says and steps closer to you you grin at him “I did” he smiles and leans down pressing his forehead to yours “for me?” He asks and you laugh “partially. I know it’s weird because we’ve known one another a day. But we did meet at the gates of death so maybe it’s not too weird. Plus I thought, being an angel of death sounds cool as hell and a heaven in and of itself. If I get to be with you, that’s just the icing on the cake” you say and he laughs, pulling you into his chest “I’m honored you’d do something like this for me. I was hoping somehow I could see you again” he whispers, “you can see me forever now. Hope you won’t regret it” you tease and he shakes his head with a smile “i highly doubt it” he says, his hands holding your cheeks as he leans down, pressing his lips into yours.

#bnha shouta aizawa #mr aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #aizawa shouta #bnha fanfiction #aizawa au

[uwuderes]

Doll

Meet my new obsession. please tell me what you guys think and if I should write more Stranger Things. Billy is my favorite character just because I have crippling daddy issues.

⚠Warning⚠: Noncon touching, language, somewhat spoilers

You and Steve sat together at a lunch table talking and making jokes as you drew away in your sketchpad. You enjoyed his company you two being very close friends. Especially since Nancy didn't seem to want to be around him anymore preferring to spend it with Jonathan doing god knows what.

"(Y/N) are you going to eat some more? You only ate a little bit." Steve asked as you doodled. You looked up and smiled softly at the male.

"Yeah I'm full. Don't worry though. Your the one who needs to eat Mr. Basketball player." You jokingly said making Steve roll his eyes and take another bite of the sandwich he brought from home.

You looked back down doodling some more until one stroke you did too hard making your lead snap. You sighed before tapping Steve lightly.

"Um , I'm going to head to my locker my pencil just broke and I didn't bring my sharpener" You said getting up taking your doodles in your hands.

"Oh okay just remember to come back afterwards alright? I still have to bring you home after this." He said shooting a sweet smile at you. You smiled nodding your head before walking to the double doors of the lunchroom heading into the hallway. You hummed to yourself finding your locker and opening it you placed your sketchpad in and just as you were about to close it you jumped as you heard a loud bang right next to your ear.

"Hey doll.~"

You looked over and saw the new heart throb of Hawkins, Billy Hargrove. He eyed you up and down as you grew more and more uncomfortable. "Um hi-" You could feel your palms get sweaty as he continued to eye you.

"(Y/N) isn't it?" He said leaning on the locker next to your own with a smirk on his face. You nodded looking down at your feet. Why was he talking to you of all people? You literally had no status at all in Hawkins. "It's adorable when you get all shy and timid like that." His thumb rested on the side of your face slighting stroking your cheek and making you look back at him at the same time.

"Your so fucking sexy doll" Billy growled inching his face closer to yours. His hand stayed in its original position while his other one moved to your waist. "Surprised no one has snatched you up yet." He growled in your ear. You could feel the slightest of goosebumps appear on your skin

"I-I'm- Billy I'm not really looking for anyth-" You were cut off by Billy gripping your waist tighter. You hissed out in pain as you felt his nails dig your skin, heat emitting from the area.

"What do you mean not looking, it's not really your job to want it now is it?" His voice was really low almost feral. "Is it?" Your voice got stuck in your throat. You couldn't respond you just couldn't. You could feel yourself gradually get dizzier and dizzier.

"I said IS IT?!" He yelled at you only making you whimper and try to cower away from the enraged male. You yelped as he was pulled away from you only for Steve to show up and be quick to grab you by your arm and pull you away. "Harrison, what the fuck are you doing huh?"

"She said she wasn't looking for that you prick!" Steve said defending you. Steve pushed you behind him trying to calm yourself down.

"I'm gonna kill you Harrison..." Billy hissed out. Steve only rolled his eyes and muttered yeah right before turning around and leading you away. You looked back at Billy who stared you down. His jaw was clenched, his muscles were tense. He huffed staring you down.

"You didn't have to do that..." You say as he opened the doors to the school.

"Well your my friend what did you want me to do? "Watch as he groped you? Plus I'm your ride home remember?" Steve said flicking you on your forehead making you giggle.

But that was then and this is now. You've been dragged into this mess dealing with the Mind Flayer and were trying to stop it. You were with the kids and Steve. You both had to keep them safe which is very hard considering how much these kids wanted to help.

You sat down on the couch getting more and more stressed. All they did was bicker back and forth and you just needed a break from it all. You sighed getting up and heading to the front door. "Hey where are you going??" Steve called after you the kids following close behind.

"To get some fresh air. Its getting stuffy in here." You said leaving without another word. You stood there taking a breath of fresh air. The moonlight shone on your skin and it all was at peace.

You suddenly heard speeding all of a sudden and bright head lights shone in your eyes nearly blinding you, breaking you from your momentary peacefulness. You jumped out of the way as you recognized the license plate.

Billy...

You turned around seeing the kids peering through the window, Max looking much more afraid than anyone else. You quickly turned back around upon hearing one of the cars doors slam open and close. "Oh I did not expect for you to be here of all places."

"W-What are you doing here...?" You said going towards him. You gulped watching as he basically undressed you with his eyes. You felt disgusted but you had to get him from around here for both the kids and his own safety.

"Oh doll, you see I was just you know looking for my sister Maxine. Red head? Bit of a bitch." Billy said nonchalantly stepping forwards. You stood your ground trying to come off as confident, but in reality you were afraid. This was the same man who groped you not even a week ago. Who knows what he could do to you right now.

"Um I never heard of her-" You were cut off as Billy grabbed your wrist pulling you forwards.

"Lets cut the bullshit (Y/N). I know shes here. But you see, in all honesty I don't really care. I'm just supposed to find her... Not bring her home.... So I was thinking since you seem to not be doing anything we can go out tonight... Just you... And me... All alone." Billy moved a strand of your (Hair color) hair from you face as you gasped all signs of breath leaving your body in a rush.

"You need to leave..." You muttered quietly. You used your other hand and pushed yourself away from him, only to fall on your back. You looked up seeing the same thing you saw the day Steve pulled you away from him the first time he tried to come onto you. He was pissed but only smiled and laughed.

"Oh your so dead you fucking bitch!" He yelled reaching down, grabbing your ankle beginning to drag you. You kicked frantically successfully getting him in the chest. You started to make your way back to the front door crawling slowly. Your eyes started to tear up trying to move faster. You looked up seeing Steve running towards you. He grabbed your hand and hauled you up, an angry Billy close behind, stomping furiously towards you two, slowly picking up speed with each step.

Steve picked up the pace rushing you both back into the house. He locked the door you both holding it back for extra security. "You guys need to hide!1 Now!" You said as they all looked at you alarmingly. You felt Max's hand grip your sleeve as she yanked you forward.

"No! I can handle him just open the do-"

"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING BITCH! OH YOUR SO FUCKING DEAD!" You all jumped as the door banged loudly and both your bodies lurched forwards, colliding back on the door. You looked back down at Max. She gulped before nodded for you to open the door.

Your hands shook as Steve moved slowly from in front the door. You opened the door only for it to be slammed open. You jumped back as he huffed at you all. He looked directly into your eyes and charged at you slamming you against the wall. You cried out looking past him seeing the kids behind Steve. "B-Billy ple-please don't hurt them. I-I beg of you please..." You choked out. Billy only laughed at you licking from your neck up to your ear.

"Anything?~" He purred into your ear seductively. You nodded frantically starting to see dark spots. Billy smiled wickedly. You looked behind him seeing Steve charge turning Billy around and punching him square in the jaw, making his grip loosen and dropping you to the ground. You gasped trying to catch your breath. Your mind went blank trying to process what was even going on.

So much yelling...

Your vision came back quicker than expected but not to a pretty sight. Steve and Billy were going at it, punching and throwing things at one another. You stumbled to your feet heading towards the kids. "Mike all of you need to go right now. So listen to me okay. All of you need to get in that car and go, I don't care who drives but you need to go. Grab Steves bat and when I get Billy off his back drag him to the car and leave. I'm not coming."

"Wait no (Y/N)- You have to come!" Dustin protested. "Yes, (Y/N) you don't know how crazy that man actually is! He's obsessed desulsio-" You cut Max off by placing a finger over her lips. You smiled seeing how much they actually cared for you.

"I got this now go." Max nodded as she motioned for them to follow her. They waited quietly by the door.

Billy was on Steve landing punches left and right in a blind anger. All the while laughing as his knuckles got bloodier and bloodier. You gulped before grabbing Billys shoulder and pulled him off Steve. You fell back not expecting for him to be so heavy. Hes a man that worked out almost every day what did you expect. His head turned around angrily looking at you. "Oh your screwed now doll.~" He said lowly. Billy quickly got on you groping all he could get his hands on.

You looked past Billy seeing Mike and Lucas dragging Steve away. You yelled out in pain feeling bite marks make creases into your neck. Struggling to move your hand you reached into his pants pocket trying to feel for his keys. Billy grabbed your hand moving it to his growing erection, letting out a moan as you did so. You felt shivers run down your spine and cringed. It has to be the other pocket...

"Come on I know you fucking want this!" Billy yelled sitting up frustrated. You took your chance and reached into his other pocket pulling out the keys. You threw them to Max. She quickly opens the door and leaves. Billy freaked out looking back as his car started abruptly. You watched as Max drove away hitting all kinds of things pulling out and away to the main road.

"You bitch... You wanted them to steal it..." Billy said lowly turning towards you. You gulped as he leaned down to stroke your hair. You whimpered under him his eyes filled with madness and mixed with lust.

"Don't be scared baby... I'm not mad... I'm actually so fucking proud of you..." He continued looking around the destroyed Byers house, all the while stroking your cheek. His hand lowered down to your chest, playing with the collar of your shirt.

"You just gave us so much time to have some fun you and me. Together forever..."

You were screwed.

#billy hargove imagine #Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #reader insert #yandere #yandere stranger things #yandere Billy Hargrove #obsession #fanfic #imagine #tw #tw rape #tw noncon #yandere x reader #reader #stranger things x y/n #spoilers

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Twenty-Two

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Goal: enter the void. 

Word Count: 3,000 +

Warning(s): Guns/gun violence, cussing

A/N: I return! Let’s fight! The gushy fluffy stuff will follow soon after, don’t worry. 

The wall came down quickly this time; a short rumble that evolved into a strong blast. And then the wall was gone. All four who witnessed it did so only partially, as they flinched hard when it crumbled, and when they looked again it was over. Jonathan tried to put his legs to use, swinging them over couch arms and pillows as he staggered to the rest of the group. 

“Should we expect company?” Hopper called out to whoever would answer. 

There was a growl, a response from the wall itself, and the anticipation was resolved as a familiar no-face emerged from the demolition. It ducked it’s head as if too tall to fit through the entryway, and slime slid off it’s frame like shedded skin. Flaunting its lanky pairs of limbs, it pulled itself up and gave a low growl as if to say: “miss me?”. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Hopper responded. 

He cocked his gun and pointed it sharply, three flinching as an offensively loud shot was taken. 

The bullet was taken right in the mouth by the creature, and it stumbled, a reassurance to the sharp shooter. But it stood straight again a moment after, recovered promptly from it’s mild daze. It shook its head like a wet dog, and in a similar manner, gunk flew from its blurred figure. The growl from before had grown stronger with the creature’s rage, and it howled with matured volume. 

“What is this thing?” 

It wasn’t the first time Hopper asked this question, but it was the first time that the answer was right in front of him. He took two more shots and they landed in roughly the same spot, like the monster had swallowed them. 

Steve curled his hands around his bat, his weapon of choice. One hand was drawn back quickly. Forgotten yet fresh, the cut on his palm stung at his imprudence. He looked to his hand, a spot of red daring to show through the white bandage, then wrapped it around the bat just as firmly as before. 

“Fuck you,” he muttered as he twirled the bat, stepping forwards to strike. 

The creature turned (a new target!) and caught the bat right in the neck. The wood hit with a smack and following came a screech; unhappy. 

“Harrington, take a step back!”

Steve adjusted his footing, but stayed where he was. Another twirl and he landed another hit on the creature’s torso. At this point it was becoming a piñata. 

Jonathan took Steve’s step back for him, then a few extra towards the back of the house. Joyce’s hand, curled into a claw, reached for her son’s fading arm. She turned when it completely slipped from her grip to see him jogging for the backdoor. She began to call out his name, getting through the first three letters before cutting herself off, breath shallow, turning back towards the action. Wobbly stature, she floated in the direction her son disappeared. 

Hopper was grabbing Steve’s shoulder now, first from behind to pull him back, then maneuvering his hand to the kid’s front side to push him backwards. First asking, then taking charge. He tossed the barrel of his gun upwards to grab a hold of it again, aiming and firing another couple shots at his target. Steve threw his shoulders up, flinching, then took a breather as he watched the monster eat a few rounds from Hopper. 

A few seconds longer and Jonathan reappeared behind him, knocking into his mother who had been half-way retreating herself. He gripped her shoulder strongly, then stepped in front of her with his own gun, retrieved from his father’s old shed out back. It was smaller in size compared to Hopper’s, but that made it easier to hold. He fit his hand around the metal with morale that would make you believe he had actually fired the thing more than a handful of times. In some part of his mind more present than he was then, he was grateful that his target was bigger than a tin can. 

“I’m coming in,” he shouted to Hopper.

Taking his turn, he pulled the trigger rapidly, a grimace on his face and ire in his stance. After Jonathan’s fifth fire the creature seemed to have started feeling it, it’s once strong stature beginning to fold. As if restricted by another force, it batted aimlessly at the space before it in a blind attack of desperation. It struck out, though, and it’s sloppy movements began to make the scene look like a drunken bar fight. 

One of it’s excessively long arms crashed into the coffee table beside it. While knocked around a fair amount, the old piece of furniture had managed to come out the other side of the first fight in one piece. Running low on luck, it was flipped with this strike and landed on it’s side in a rough commotion. Broken down the middle and now without one of its stubby legs, the table reflected just about everything else in the home. Cracked and with parts missing, it was a rather fitting analogy for the Byers’ residence. Slid from its surface was a stack of missing posters, and a few of them drifted off underneath the couch.  

Joyce, in an alarming eruption, shouted at the creature before them as if angry for it’s rude behavior. She stepped forwards, and with a rage that had been boiling longer than she had realized, grabbed the gun from her son. He let her take it and forfeited the stage as she lined up her shot, firing more rounds than he had. Almost too fast to qualify as ‘one after another,’ the bullets found their target in a messy smoke show of fury. 

It had taken enough damage, and with a stumble in it’s step it attempted to have one last go at the enemy. It’s feet didn’t land quite right as it moved forward, and as if tripping lazily, it fell to the ground. After it settled, unmoving, another rumble came, and the dazed mistook the sound as one emerging from the creature. The floor began to shake, and one by one they realized that it was whatever force lay inside the wall that had awoken again. 

The creature began to stir and Steve raised his bat with half of a flinch. Against the floor it’s shaking became more violent, a seizure of sorts, but then it was sucked backwards in one grand motion into the void contained within the wall; as if grabbed by the leg and pulled back, but there was no hand around it’s ankle. This outburst of action startled the audience of four and a few of them gasped. 

Steve’s feet staggered, one taking a step forwards and the other staying in place like it disagreed. He turned himself around instead to look at Hopper, his face asking a question his voice couldn’t find. The bat hung from his grip childishly. 

“Okay,” Hopper said. He wondered if he should congratulate the team on their apparent win, then continued without addressing it: “I guess we know where to go”. 

Steve took a survey of the team and locked eyes with Joyce. Coming down from her murderous outburst, still shaken in a manner she might never really recover from, she blinked back at him then turned to her son. “Stay here,” she told him, tone flushed with unease, grateful yet pained in a way she had not yet found the words to express. She opened her mouth to speak again, and though she intended to speak easily her voice hitched innately.

“Keep watch, okay?” Joyce said with a fake sense of calm. 

Hopper, with his pull to leadership, stepped towards the wall. The corners were shrinking inwards, and the burning fear that A.) they’d miss their chance partnered with the fear that B.) they’d get stuck inside. With one hand in front of him he reached an arm inside. The upper half of his forearm disappeared into the dark gap in reality, and the wall stopped shrinking. 

“It won’t close with us inside,” he said to the room. 

Steve, bat still swinging loosely against his legs, stepped aside Hopper. He reached his own hand into the void, and glanced at Hopper with a look on his face that admitted he was still a bit confused. “Why did it close with Nine inside?” he asked. 

“It must have wanted her there,” the man responded, reclaiming his arm and looking back to Joyce still standing with her son behind them. 

“Guard the house,” Joyce said, half-joking to her wet-eyed kid who couldn’t decide if this was an ask he should be compliant with. “We’ll be back, it’s better you’re here to help us out.” He silently agreed, a nod with tight lips, and then leaned forwards to hug his mother. His arms overlapped against her back, and in a moment of peculiar contemplation, Jonathan wondered if they’d still hug this often after things were over. 

Joyce joined the end of the line and Hopper, with a burst of courage as if acting on a dare, stuck one foot into the void. The bottom of his boot splashed in the shallow water beneath his foot, and the corners of his eyes drew in as he squinted at the ground below. He contemplated whether it was still appropriate to question things. Steve, deciding that they were well past that, walked straight into the void through the open area beside Hopper. He kept his bat snug in the grip of his right hand, and it was splashed with water at his sloppy entrance. “Come on,” he said ardently, an expression on his face that asked what was taking them so long. 

Three pairs of feet stood isolated, the only things visible in the stretch of darkness, and then marched forward. No one really took the lead, and instead they walked side-by-side one another as their eyes searched for anything before them. 

“How do we know where we’re going?” Hopper asked, the silence enough to make him question if the other two could see perfectly, and it was only his poor eyesight that left him in the dark. 

“We don’t, I guess. Just keep going, there has to be something here. I watched half of Joyce’s living room get sucked into this place,” Steve said. 

-

Will Byers sat (no longer alone, mind you) wrapped tightly in an abundance of blankets that began to feel decorative against his skin, still cold enough to bring concern to those who felt it. Nine drew a hand away from his cheek, chewed her tongue for a moment, then searched around the fort for another blanket, however feeble, to throw on top of him. Goosebumps began to prick at her own skin, her body settling into the cold as Will’s had done, but she pushed the sensation towards the back of her brain; negligible. 

It startled her when he spoke, though hoarsely, and she turned to his figure, size doubled by layers of cloth. “How are we going to get back? Back home?” he asked her, and she swore her skin reacted, made colder by his words. 

“I-” she began, halting, eyes back on the ground as she continued her search for a blanket as if to show the journey back home was no worry. It was a performance though, and her voice did all but reveal it as she weakly gave an answer. “I’m going to find the entrance again. We’re gonna walk right back into your house.” A smile twitched at her lips, strained, as she looked to the boy again. 

He smiled back at her, performance bought if only out of desperation. “You really came from my living room? Like a portal?” 

Nine grabbed a pillow from the ground, saved from the water as it sat on a plank of wood, and tore the cover off of it. She bent down, one hand with the pillow and the other with the case, and looked warmly into the boy’s eyes. “Just like a portal. I’ll show you soon. You’ll get to go home.” 

She put a hand on his shoulder and brought him forwards with a guiding hand, placing the pillow behind his back and letting him settle against it. Tempted to laugh at the meager piece of cloth left in her hands, she took the pillowcase and draped it over his shoulders. How much could he weigh? 80 pounds? 85? She calculated quickly. Maybe she should add an extra pound or few for the blankets. She could carry a kid that small, right? She wasn’t sure there was an option left that didn’t require it. 

“When are we going to go?”

His energy to ask questions seemed to come from the adrenaline brought by another person’s presence. Nine rubbed her hands up and down his shoulders swiftly, hoping that her dwindling body heat may transfer to him as she did, and looked to his ghostly face once more. 

“Soon,” she said. “I just want you to warm up a bit first.” They smiled kindly at one another. 

-

“This isn’t encouraging,” Hopper said as he walked, talking if only to remind his teammates the gravity of their situation. “We’re keeping the… door... within eyesight, right?” he said, voice bordering on frantic, unwillingly comedic. He turned around to look behind him, eyeing a dull light somewhere in the distance that he told himself he wouldn’t let get any more dull. 

“Look,” Steve said, pointing with his bat, looking around at the faces of those following him. He spoke with exclamation the second time he said it, letting himself get excited for a moment. 

Ahead of them a forming fog, a brightening light, and figure something like the ghost of a house. Steve smiled, slightly exasperated, looking between it and the other’s confused expressions. He ditched them after another second, taking off in the direction of his materialized hope. 

“Hey!” Hopper called out after him, but Joyce followed, and then so did he. 

Steve tossed the door open then entered without a second thought. “Nine!” he called out, her name an expectation rather than a question, like he had already decided she was there. His feet dashed around the house, circling through the kitchen then bounding down the hallway. “Nine! We-” He opened a door to an empty bedroom. “We’re here! Where are you?” He moved to a second room, nothing but genuine belief that she’d be behind one of the doors in this house. He said her name again as Joyce and Hopper arrived at the house’s entryway. “Will?!” Joyce called out. The two names mixed together as both were shouted throughout the house that was thick in shadows. No one was there to claim them, though, and that dawning realization brought the search party back to the living room. 

“How are they not here? It’s the only fucking place in this place? How-” Steve turned in a circle like he could had missed her, sitting in some corner he’d overlooked. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, everybody. This is just the first place we’ve found.” Hopper said. Joyce looked away defeatedly. 

Steve was starting to look unhinged. “It’s the only place we’ve found!” He paused. “I-”

A heavy sloshing was heard in the distance, a slow but repeated pace echoing a sound caught only by Steve. Hopper, grateful for his silence but naturally troubled by it as well, looked down at him expectantly. “Wha-”

“Shh-” Steve started to shush Hopper, then pushed past him instead to rush towards the house’s front door, still hanging open from their intrusion. 

Despite the minimal light creeping out from the house, the figure walking up towards what would (normally) be the Byers’ front yard was hard to make out in the dark. 

Arms wrapped securely under Will’s weight shook desperately with each step forward. Steve was standing on the front porch when the light finally caught up to the figure before him: Nine, slouched yet trying hard to stand tall with a bundle of eleven-year-old in her arms. She was the only thing visible outside the house, a long strip of light obstructed only by Steve’s silhouette engulfing her completely now. Behind him and on either side, Joyce and Hopper turned to his stall in movement. 

Nine drew her head up, long blinks between squinting making her unable to react before Steve was running, all but stumbling down the steps in his feverish dash to reach her. Water flung from his legs as they were thrown in long strides. Her grip on the boy tightened, determined not to drop him in the commotion that her daze left her unable to read appropriately. Part of her gave into believing it was Steve, and the other half was convinced it was a hallucination. Get to the house, her only self-given instruction, still looped in her head. 

Joyce, with a startled sob, followed Steve now. He reached Nine first, and with his own tears brimming he grabbed for her shoulders to steady her. She felt like she was sleepwalking, but upon seeing Joyce’s face, let up on her hold on Will. Joyce took him into her own arms, relieving Nine and clutching her son: seemingly weightless to her despite his very real presence. 

Nine sighed — the only sound close to a response she could manage, or maybe it was just a reaction — and with Will’s weight removed, her legs began to feel numb. As if the fog around her had made its way into her head, the surrounding people started to feel less than there. Steve moved now, unobstructed by the kid no longer in her arms, to grab for Nine’s other shoulder. Her legs folded before he got a good hold of her, though, and she teetered over as he tried to keep up with her crash. 

She landed on the ground, her fall half-broken by Steve’s rapid motion that managed him under a portion of her upper half. With panicked breathing he readjusted himself to plant her on his lap. He sat up on his knees, turning to glance behind him before returning to drag his eyes over Nine’s face. He gripped onto the fabric of his own sweatshirt as the person who wore it exhaled with fading strength in her breath. 

---

A/N: FLUFF COMING SOON PROMISE

Tag List: @ggclarissa @gurl-ly @alewifex @we-are-band-sexuals @cpt-lamby @l0ve-0f-my-life @easvtohate @used-avocado @kwyloz @itzpikapie@samwise-babeyy @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mochminnie @peterwandaparker @ayamecrevan @lilyhw1 @seninjakitey @lulurose17 @write-from-the-heart @marvelouspottering @hargreevelr @sledgy14 @stranger-names @pradaxstyles @im-a-stranger-thing @fancytravelerbird @queenofthehairharrington @blahhhhhhhaaa @prettysbliss  @lolychu​ @crimesolvin​ @kik51199​ @androgynousplaidpeanutlawyer 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve x reader #st #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #joe keery x reader

[liamloveslarry]

Baker! Harry & Primary School Teacher! Louis

so, a couple of weeks ago i made a little post about how i’d love for people to send me prompts/writing ideas and the lovely @louistsbravery sent me one based off her moodboard she so kindly made, here!

my brain kind of ran away with me and so i hope you like this, i tried to stick to the theme as best i could, enjoy! :)

Harry eyes the man from behind the counter. 

He watches him as his eyes scan the board above from where he’s standing, sleepy blue orbs blinking tiredly behind the square glasses perched upon his nose. 

His heart thumps something fierce when he notices the tufts of brown hair sticking out slightly from behind his ear, a noticeable trait he assumes from lack of sleep and too many early mornings.

It’s 6 o’clock in the morning and the sun is barely edging over cobbled streets and tall buildings, its shimmering waves casting a pale glow over puddles on the pavement and bouncing off lampposts. 

‘Babs Bakery’ is nestled between a small row of shops along the Northern Quarter. Its quaint, rustic exterior leads itself into a small tea room and peaceful eating area. Potted plants line the windowsill outside while the smell of fresh baked scones and coffee beans pulse and weave through the air, an atmosphere Harry’s prone to taking naps in.

He’s been here for about a year now, taking over from his Nana when she’d gotten too old to carry on the business, but he hadn’t changed a thing. It might be slightly old fashioned but it reminds him of his grandparents and how he used to sit at the table in the corner by the window with his colouring book and jumbo crayons, while being served hot vimto and iced fingers.

A small cough nudges Harry from his stupor and he blinks, realising he’s been staring. The man is smiling slightly, the last traces of sleep pull at his lips as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth while he lets out a yawn.

“Morning.” He says, his Northern twang is raspy and gentle, a higher pitched lilt whispering through words.

Harry wipes his clammy hands on his apron and steps forward, fingertips drumming along the counters edge. He can see the man’s wearing a light blue button up underneath a soft, grey jumper. Pale pink tie burrowed in between. A shoulder bag is situated over his left arm and there are textbooks, papers and pens bursting through the zip.

“Hey. G’morning.” He replies, fingers aching to touch him. “Find anything you like?”

The man squints one more time at the blackboard, eyes moving over loopy words and today’s specials.

“I think,” he says, dragging out the ‘I’. Harry finds it that endearing he has to grip the countertop and remind himself to keep breathing. “I think I’m gonna go for a latte and a cheese and ham toastie, please. Is that alright?” 

Harry nods and reaches for a paper cup. “Is that to go or stay in?” He asks.

“To go, please. Need to make sure I get to work before the little monsters. If I time it right, the caffeine rush lasts all day.” The man responds, smirking a little. “I swear I love my job, but sometimes they can be a handful.”

Harry nods and spins on the spot, turning the face the coffee machine and placing the cup underneath the metal nozzle. There’s a spurt and a groan before hot milk starts to pour into the cup.

“Am I right in assuming you’re talking about children, not animals, right?”

The man laughs and Harry blinks up towards the ceiling, whispering a quiet ‘fuck’ as his knees buckle. 

“Yep! Early years. I work at the Primary School just down the road. The only animal I have is Eden here, and she’s still asleep the lucky buggar.”

“Eden?” Harry asks, as he places the cheese and meat on top of the bread baked only this morning, crumbing bits of pepper on top and drizzling balsamic vinegar over the sharp cheddar. 

He places it into the small oven and turns the timer on.

“Yeah, heh. Sorry. She’s my pet rabbit and the kids go crazy when I bring her in. I hope you don’t mind me bringing her in here? She’s in her carrier so she can’t escape.” Louis looks sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck while he flicks his eyes up to meet Harry’s; but the look is quickly dissolved when Harry dashes around the counter and asks if he can see her.

Louis nods and steps aside, giving view to the medium sized carrier sat next to his feet.

Harry crouches and sees through the bars, a small golden rabbit, tufts of white fur peeking through the strands. Her nose twitches in sleep and her soft whiskers brush Harry’s fingertips lightly where he’s resting against the metal bars. 

“Oh my, she’s so cute.” He whispers, not wanting to wake the sleeping animal. 

He peers up at the man from where he’s situated on the floor and realises he’s eye level with the fly of his work pants. He flushes and bends his knees, standing up. 

This only makes things worse as he’s now directly facing him, no counter in between their bodies. If Harry were to inch his fingers out, he’d feel just how soft his jumper is. He flexes his knuckles and reminds himself not to think about if his skin is as soft as his voice.

He coughs into his fist and steps back.

“Sorry – uh. I just love animals. And I don’t mind them in the shop,” he nods his head to where a small tank rests next to the till. “I have one of my own to keep me company, too.”

A plump goldfish swims happily from rock to rock, bobbing his tiny mouth as he scoops up the remaining pieces of fish food Harry had sprinkled in earlier.

Louis spins to face the tiny morsel, but only after his eyes drop down to where Harry’s biting his lip, a small bridge of pink scattered over his nose and cheeks.

“Nice.” He says, smiling at Harry once more. “What’s its name?” 

Harry walks back around the counter and scoops the cup from underneath the machine and presses the button on the timer, stopping the chirps that are signalling the food is ready. 

He places the items down in front of the man and bends to rest his elbows on the counter, reaching one finger out to follow the fish through the glass.

“Phillip.” He huffs, the sound sculpting into an embarrassed laugh. 

Louis looks at him with his eyebrows raised, a small grin quirking his lips.

Harry groans quietly and rolls his eyes.

“Please don’t ask – my niece named him and I couldn’t say no.”

Louis laughs and reaches a hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet and sliding his card out of the slot. 

“Mate, you don’t need to explain anything to me.” He says. “I deal with 15 of them on a daily basis, why d’ya think I bought a bloody bunny?” 

He smirks as he places the card into the reader and enters his pin, and Harry stares at the way the sun is peeking its way in through the windows, causing the man’s hair to shine, highlighting his cheekbones and lightly freckled skin.

He stands there for another couple of seconds before the reader beeps and he pulls his card out. 

“Cool, well - I think that’s me.” The man says, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering the items in his hands. “I guess I’ll see you around, uh?” he looks a little expectantly at Harry and smiles, a tiny quirk of his top lip.

“Harry.”

“Louis,” he replies. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, Harry.” 

Harry manages a wave before the man is out the door, smiling at him through the window one last time before he disappears down the street.

-

It isn’t until Harry’s shutting up shop and wiping down the counters that he spots a small folded piece of paper, wedged in underneath the till.

He frowns and drops the cloth, peeling open the sharp edges until scrawled black writing looks back at him, reading:

“Nice Buns!” 

Harry stares at the letters and the scribbly, rushed image of two iced buns smiling and feels a flush work its way from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes.

The thing is, is that Harry doesn’t know who could’ve done this. 

The bakery’s been busy non-stop all day and plenty of customers have been in and out over the last eight or so hours, and so he’s confused as to who left him the note.

He pockets the piece of paper and picks up his cloth, continuing to clean.

This time with a small smile etched onto his face.

-

The notes keep appearing after that. 

Once a day, in the same spot as before. 

Usually, Harry only notices them at the end of his shift, treating them as little surprises after his busy schedule.

Some days there are short sentences, wishing him a good day, and other days there are lyrics from songs that make him smile, every now and then there’s a cheeky one liner that makes him blush.

There’s a small glass jar that sits beside the toaster where he keeps them, day in, day out, the glass gets fuller. Sometimes Harry, after a bad day, will twist the top off and read through them one by one, curling up on the chair by the window and instantly feeling the stress of the day melt from his shoulders, sated happiness washing over him.

He hasn’t yet managed to find the person on the other end of the notes, always too busy to stop and look. And anyway, what would he say if he found out? Yes? Maybe? ‘No Jonathan, if this is you, I’m not into threesomes so stop asking me?’

He kind of likes there being an air of mysteriousness to them. 

But he guesses, it wouldn’t be so bad if it turned out to be a certain someone, now would it?

-

It’s after an unusually busy day that has Harry rushing around on his feet and trying to serve a long line of customers that seems never ending, flour dusted through his hair and balancing both dishing out food and cleaning up after people, that come 5 o’clock, he’s exhausted and practically dead on his feet.

He slumps against the counter and rests his head down between his shoulder blades, having a minute to himself and heaving a big sigh, when he hears the telltale sign of footsteps approaching him, shuffling he thinks, a little slowly.

“Hey.”

He whips his head up and sees Louis. 

His hair is a mess and there’s a line of purple felt tip staining his cheek. His tie is skewed and the top button of his shirt is undone, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallows, lightly dusted with midnight scruff. 

“Sorry, I know you’re uh-technically closing soon,” he says, “I just wanted to pop in really quick for one of those chocolate chip muffins? My sister’s coming up for a few days and I need something sweet to get me through, long day ‘n all. Which I’m sure you can relate to.”

Harry huffs a laugh and nods his head, turning to face the cabinet full of pastries and frowns when he realises there aren’t any in there. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Ah, sorry. It looks like we’re out, I have a fresh batch of blueberry in the back if that’s okay?”

Louis nods and smiles and Harry wanders into the back, letting the smell of bread and cookies sprinkle over him as he pulls out one of the trays and picks a particularly plump muffin, bouncy slightly in texture.

He finds Louis in the same spot as he was before, only this time he’s rubbing his eye with his fist, looking even more tired than when he first padded in. 

He waves the muffin at Louis who grins in response, arm falling back to his side and walking closer to the counter.

“Let me just wrap this up for you.” Harry says, and places the muffin in a small decorative box, closing the lid and taping it with a sticker.

When Louis’ walking towards the door a couple of minutes later, he looks over his shoulder and says,

“You might wanna check something over there,” nodding his head to a small counter display full of flapjacks, where a piece of paper looks to be slotted in between, sticking up as if waiting to be plucked, “looks like you missed something.”

And then with one last smile that’s bordering on slightly nervous, he’s gone.

-

Ten seconds later when Harry unpicks the paper, the words ‘you bake me crazy, wanna grab a drink sometime?’ look back at him.

He thinks back to the other day and presses his lips together, suppressing a smile and biting his lip.

He knows just what to say.

-

And then, three years later when he stares down at the ring and card with two pieces of bread on the front and reads, ‘I loaf you very much, shall we grow mould together?’

And he looks into teary blue eyes.

He knows just what to say then too.

#this was pure fluff #tooth rotting #wow #i hope this was ok!! #i honestly didn't mean to write over 2k words on this #but here we we are #if you like little prompts like this #please let me know and i'll be happy to write them! #send them to me anytime and i'll post when i have the chance #:) #larry fic #hlcreators #i don't know how else to tag this #fic rec

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: Here we are with chapter 21! Did you guys know that I actually have something else planned for this series? >:3 You will have to read this to find out~ 

Summary: Katie’s birthday continued 

Warnings: SMUT 

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @shiningloki @blo0dangel​

Chapter 21: Daphne

Why was it that everytime something good was happening, Roper always had to butt in? He had astoundingly bad timing. Jonathan turns to face Katie, nodding to himself. "Roper claims that we have a chance to see what's going on, but I am not going to bite it. Everytime he has helped us, you're put in danger." He sits on the bed, running his hands through his short hair. Pine didn't want to go and see if Roper was true to his word. He just wanted to spend time with Katie and make love to her in the later hours of the night. It was her birthday for fuck sake.

"We should go and see." Katie suggested, sitting up and placing a comforting hand on his back. "This could be our only lead. I know there is a possibility that both of us could get hurt." She lowered her hand as he looked at her.

"Kate-" he scoffed, "It's your birthday."

"And? I haven't had a more exciting birthday until now." The brunette gets up, shuddering as she feels Jonathan's cum drip down her inner thigh. Her cheeks burned a bright pink as she was also reluctant to leave. What other choice did they have? "We should probably find something suitable to wear. I'm going to assume we might have to go inside." Katie walked over to her suitcase, bending over and giving Jonathan a generous view of her ass and still wet pussy.

Pine almost whined at the sight, wanting to continue their passionate love making. He growled in frustration and got up, surrendering to the idea. He took out his blue suit that Richard had fitted for him and set it on the bed. Jonathan then took a brief smell of himself and wrinkled his nose as he smelled like sex. "I think we should probably take an hour to get ready. It is only 8 PM and the night is still young."

Katie agreed to the idea and also voted to shower separately, so they wouldn't waste time having a quick fuck in the shower. For Katie's look, she opted for a black short sleeve mini dress. The neckline was a deep V and the skirt barely covered her ass. She almost felt violated by the dress itself and how much it showed her off. Naturally, she put on makeup a bit more on the heavier side just to look the part.

"If we didn't have to do this, I'd have you where you stand." Jonathan came up from behind, nipping at her ear and taking in the fresh scent of her clean hair.

"The same goes to you." She turns around and eyes him up and down, enjoying the teasing view of his chest and collarbone. Katie then cleared her throat and took Jonathan's hand, pulling him out of the bathroom and on their way to the red light district.

The place reeked of sex everywhere they went. Even the outdoors smelled of it. Pine was beginning to think that Roper had set them up as they had no luck thus far. He had to fend off a few drunk men away from Katie as they tried to touch her. Jonathan was getting more frustrated by the second and not just because of Roper or the drunkards, but also Katie having to pretend to flirt with some of them. At one point, he saw her look at him and stick her tongue out. She was playing around and asking for him to punish her later.

"Ah, thank you for the information miss." Katie waved her hand and gave a wry smile to a sex worker. She turned around and nodded to a club just left of them. "She said that there was activity going on in there as some of the girls have been missing for weeks." She said in a hushed tone.

"Guess we should go in then." Jonathan rolled his eyes as he saw a group of women practically fucking him with their eyes. He wrapped an arm around Katie's waist and escorted her into the club. The minute they walked in, Pine pulled out his cigarettes as he saw smoking was allowed.

"Really?" Katie grimaces at him in disgust.

"What? The sign says it's ok to smoke in here and I haven't had a cigarette in two weeks." He said with one of the sticks hanging from his lip.

The brunette scoffed and brushed it off. That was his problem, not hers. She walked with Jonathan further inside with his arm still around her waist. "I'm gonna go ask some questions." She said over the music and quickly pecked Jonathan's cheek.

Jonathan could not help but stare at Katie's hips and ass as she walked away. "Fuck, she's got a beautiful ass." He muttered, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

"That she does. Miss, two drinks for my friend and I here." An accented voice spoke.

Pine froze as this was not Richard speaking at all. Something cold was pressed to the back of his head.

"Start anything and I'll pull the trigger." The man spoke.

Slowly, Jonathan glanced to the side and saw that the man was Daniel Hasapis.

Jonathan's jaw clenched and he did everything in his will power not to say anything. He knew he was looking at Katie with a ravenous hunger and it pissed him off to unbelievable heights.

“I know that you want to kill me here and now, you have me within inches and yet I am the one with the gun.” Daniel grinned, his amber eyes focused on Katie, tracing her curves. He adjusted the gun in his hand, pressing it harder against the back of Pine’s head. “You can speak you know, I won’t kill you to speak freely, only if you make any sudden movements.” He chuckled.

“I wish that I could kill you. I’m not putting her at risk to entertain you.” Pine spat, looking at the alcoholic beverage handed to him and then back up at Daniel.

Daniel clicked his tongue, taking the shot and downing it before smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows. “Entertain me? Pine, I’m already entertained by the thoughts I have of what I will do to her when I make her one of my wives.”

“Tell me why you bothered to press a gun to the back of my fucking head. She isn’t the reason, Roper told you where we were didn’t he?” Jonathan growled, not drinking the shot and setting it beside him.

“That he did. Oh but she is one of the reasons why I am here, and pressing the barrel of a gun to the back of your fucking head.” The crime lord mocked Jonathan and eyed the drink, taking it and downing it. “You are the first person to turn down a drink from me, I’m a little offended. Here I am willing to talk to you like a man and you’re acting like a little bitch-”

Jonathan’s nostrils flared and shifted a little but felt the gun press harder into his scalp.

“Ah, ah! You wouldn’t want our little rose to see your brains blown all over the floor. It would break her poor heart to see her Jonathan Pine so easily taken out by someone better than him.” Daniel warned him, smirking as he saw Pine’s rage building up and threatening to bubble over. “I will tell you why I am here. I wish to make a bargain with you, Pine. I’ll even be nice enough to give you a few days, two at most, to think it over.” Daniel dug inside of his suit pocket, pulling out a business card with his phone number and giving it to Jonathan. “Now that Poppy, Bloodroot, Wisteria, and Wolfsbane are gone; I haven’t much choice but to unleash my newest group. Belladonna has spread her roots. You know all the riots in London and the United States? Some even transpire across the entire globe. They were doing that for a reason. Give me Katelyn and innocent lives will not be lost.”

That was his bargain!? Jonathan’s jaw dropped and his hands shook with anger, “No.”

“You would sacrifice thousands of innocent lives for one girl? Tsk, tsk.” Daniel shook his head.

“Why are you doing this?” Jonathan asked through clenched teeth, his eyes on Katie and his heart racing. All he wanted to do at this point was run as far away with her as possible. Forget the agency, forget being a spy, forget everything. Katie was all he cared about now, she had him wrapped around her finger.

“To show that I am at the top. That no one, not even the authorities will want to mess with me. I plan to create a society, one of crime and fear. Anarchy, war, violence, assault, death… The works. I want to make a statement about who is in charge and that I can have whatever I want because I manifested it to fruition.” The man’s smirk still stayed plastered to his face as he spoke of what he truly wanted. It was a typical bad guy scenario, but the only thing about it was that he actually had bombs planted in important places.

Jonathan did his best to disassemble the phones during his stay at the hotel in Japan, but he felt as though there was something else he was missing.

“Travis never had the actual call to set the explosives off. I just made him seem important to test him. He was stupid, but determined. Of course I am the one who has access when I decide for the bombs to go off.” Daniel removed the gun from the back of Pine’s head and tucked it away into his coat pocket. “Remember what I said, Pine. Two days.”

All Pine could do was stare in horror at the crime lord as he left the club, tipping the madame of the club and exiting. Bombs. Bombs, bombs, bombs, bombs-

“JONATHAN GO!! GO!!” Cameron screamed.

A younger Jonathan shook his head, adjusting his helmet and leaving his best friend for dead. The bomb went off, making Pine scream out of anguish. Several other bombs began to go off all around him and he made a run for it, sobbing as he had failed to save Cameron. The aftershock of one bomb in particular, blasted Jonathan into one of the Taliban's trucks that was no doubt full of traps.

His blue eyes widened in fear as a man leapt out from the truck, shouting in Arabic at some others. Pine watched as this man hit a button on his chest and began to run toward some of his friends. With all of his strength, Jonathan got up and screamed. He began to run towards them but stopped midway as the Taliban member blew up into pieces and killed two more of Pine’s comrades. A burnt arm landed right in front of the young soldier and he could only stare at it, knowing that Cameron had suffered the same fate.

“Jonathan!” Katie called, her brows turned up in worry as she tried to shake him out of his sudden PTSD episode. “Jonathan!” She tried again, gently taking his face in her hands and making him look at her. His pupils were blown wide as his eyes were and they held haunting fear. The brunette’s heart broke as she had no idea that his memories were this bad. “Breathe with me. Hey- Breathe.” she took his hand, pressing it over her heart.

The feeling of his palm against Katie’s chest brought him back from his moment. Jonathan held his hand over her heart a little longer, feeling it beat beneath her flesh. “Katelyn.” He whimpered her name, his eyes glossing over with tears. “I’m sorry- Cameron-” He broke out into a sob and stood up, Katie escorting him out of the club.

Not wanting to stay there any longer, Katie walked with Jonathan out into the streets and out of the red light district. She called for a cab as they had done so earlier and soon the pair were back in their room.

Jonathan immediately grabbed Katie, holding her tightly and letting new tears fall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I killed him.” He wept.

“No. Jonathan you didn’t kill him, I forgave you. Look at me.” She pulled away from his embrace and reached up, wiping his tears. “Shh.. Tell me what happened, take as much time as you need.” Her thumbs continued to wipe away stray tears and her gaze never left his.

The blonde man took a deep breath in, holding one of her hands to his cheek. “Daniel. He… He’s going to try to take you. He is going to set off bombs in major cities across the United States and possibly the world if.. If I tell him no.” Pine straightened himself out a bit, looking deeply into Katie’s eyes. “The mention of bombing and killing thousands of people… The way he was so disturbingly passionate about it was what set me off.” He swallowed to soothe his aching throat.

Katie was speechless, staring at him with wide eyes. Her expression relaxed more and she pulled him down, kissing his lips softly. “I won’t let him take me.” She whispered, her hands sliding up his chest. Katie kissed him again, trying to distract him from everything going around. Their kiss began to become more intense as Katie was backed up against the wall with Pine’s large hands cupping her jaw.

Despite everything that had just transpired, Jonathan’s mind began to wander. His cock began to harden as his tongue slipped into Katie’s welcoming mouth. He placed one of his legs between hers, pinning her to the wall. “You’re mine . I will not let him touch you or take you from me.” He growled, returning to a breathtaking kiss and slipping his hand underneath her dress. Pine froze as he felt her bare pussy and just how soaked it was. She didn’t wear any panties… He stopped kissing her, looking at her before yanking her dress up and over her. “Your wet cunt could have been seen.” He pulled her tightly to him, smacking her ass hard.

“OH!” Katie shuddered, sucking in her bottom lip as she wiggled her ass for more. She wanted this to take his mind off of tonight. It was her birthday after all and she missed being a brat and being spanked. “Did I make you jealous, daddy?” she whispered into the crook of his neck, sucking on a sensitive area of his luscious neck. Katie gasped loudly as she earned another hard spank to her rear.

“You know the answer, brat.” Jonathan brought his hand down again upon her reddening ass, watching the flesh darken. He rubbed the meat of her ass roughly, feeling the girl he held shiver under his touch. “First you flirted with those drunkards, almost flashed your pussy and now you’re acting like a brat-” He moaned as he felt Katie suck that sensitive spot on his neck again. For that, he brought his hand down twice on each cheek. His cock was now straining in his pants and he was desperate to fuck Katie’s brains out already. No, he would make her wait as punishment. “Get on the bed and spread your legs.” He gave her ass another smack.

“Make me~” Katie chuckled breathlessly, the burn of her ass from Pine spanking it making her pussy more wet by the second. “It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” She bit down on the spot this time, earning her a harder spank. “O-OH DADDY!! DADDY!! MM!!” The impact of his hand caused her to stand on her toes, her legs shaking a little.

“I don’t care, little girl.” Jonathan released her from his hold but shoved her on the bed, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of her. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Spread your legs wide and let me see your fingers play with your pussy.” He licked his lips, eyes dark with lust.

Katie sat up, adjusting herself in a comfortable position and spreading her legs. She blushed hard as she was giving Jonathan a full view of her glistening cunt that ached to be filled with him. She slid a hand down her body, rubbing her ring and middle fingers over her clit gently. Her head fell back as she was so sensitive to the slightest touch, pussy clenching around nothing. “Does daddy like seeing me p-play with my pretty pussy?” She rubbed her lower lips, never dipping her fingers into her hole.

“Daddy loves it but he is growing impatient with what a brat you’re being.” He stood up, batting her hand away and sitting on the bed, looking down at her. One of his arms comes up behind her, fingers digging into her ribcage gently. His other hand reaching down with his fingers trailing down to her hip bones, never touching her where she wanted it most. “Tell me, who’s pussy is this?” He moves his hand lower.

“Y-Yours- AHH!” Katie’s legs slammed shut as Pine suddenly gave a spank to her pussy. Pleasure shot through her body and she noticed Jonathan give her a look of worry. “I’m ok. Th-That felt really good, do it again.” She licked her lips.

Jonathan retracted his hand, face falling back into his character after knowing she liked it. “You didn’t address me correctly, little girl.” He took his belt off, wrapping it around her wrists. “Legs spread. I will not tell you again and not let you come if you do not behave.”

Katie spread her legs wide open for him, crying out from his hand coming down against her clit. Shockwaves of wonderful pleasure traveling throughout. “Thank you, daddy. I’m sorry daddy I’ll listen now.” She wiggled her hips and tried to spread her legs as wide as she could.

“I didn’t tell you to push yourself either. But for showing me that you’re willing to behave, I’ll let you suck my cock. Do a good enough job and I’ll fuck you with my fingers.” He unzipped his pants and fumbled with them for a moment. Once his cock was out, Jonathan waved his hand to motion Katie to sit up and start.

Having her hands bound made this a little difficult for Katie to do, but it was nothing she couldn’t do. She places gentle kisses to his length, licking the bead of precum with the flat of her tongue. Her eyes flick up at him while she licks his cock like a lollipop, giving the head a firm suck.

“Fuck, just like that baby girl.” Jonathan sighs, one of his hands cupping her face as he watches her take his cock into her throat. His eyes close for a moment as he moans from the feeling of his length down her throat. “Shit.” He curses, trying his best not to move his hips.

Katie relaxes her jaw and tongue, focused on bringing pleasure to her beloved. She moved her head back and forth, moaning softly. The vibrations of her moans added extra pleasure to her sucking his cock.

Jonathan bites his lip hard, moving his hips just a little. He doesn’t want to fuck her mouth fully, but he is very tempted to.

The brunette pulls herself off of his cock, gasping for air and a string of spit from her lips still connected to his length. She looked up at him with desperate eyes, pleading for him to touch her.

“You’ve more than earned your reward.” He shoves her back, only to pull her to the edge of the bed where he kneels. He wraps his arms around her legs, burying his face between her legs as before; he couldn’t get enough of her taste. Jonathan places his whole mouth over her cunt, kissing and licking at her labia, sucking it and doing the same to her clit. He could still taste his own fluid from earlier, but paid no mind to it.

Forget his fingers- Jonathan’s mouth was magical. “Daddy-” Katie moans loudly, grinding her cunt against his face. “Daddy, your tongue feels s-so good.” She leans her head back against the bed and gasps as she feels his fingers slip inside of her.

Jonathan licked his lips, pulling his head away from the apex between her thighs and staring at her as he thrust his fingers in and out. “You like it when daddy fucks you with his fingers and tongue don’t you? Such a naughty girl you are.” His cock throbs with need and he starts to touch himself for some relief. Katie’s spit from earlier helped with his hand sliding up and down his cock.

“Y-Yes! I love it, daddy!” Katie squeals, her back arching a little. Her walls suck his fingers in as she feels them moving in and out of her. “Oh fuck- Oh fuck!” she mewls, her legs beginning to shake as now Jonathan’s thumb was rubbing her over sensitive clit.

“Do not come. Hold it.” He warns her, curling his fingers against her g-spot and pressing harder on her pearl.

Katie tried her damn best to hold it as her orgasm was coming strong. She relaxed her body, trying to control her breathing. It was getting harder and harder for her not to give in.

“Good girl, just a few more seconds. Keep holding it.” Pine scissored his fingers, watching her body jolt in surprise from the added motion. He could see she was trying her damn hardest and was a bit impressed. Jonathan decided to be mean and deny her the sweet release, pulling his hand away.

“Daddy!!” Katie whined, pouting as she thought she was doing so good. The build up of her orgasm had faded and so did her willingness to behave. She shut her legs just as Jonathan started to climb onto the bed.

Pine grabbed the base of Katie’s throat gently, never pressing down and noticing she was ok with that as long as he didn’t apply pressure. “Open your legs or you will not come.” He growled, giving her pussy a spank as she spread her legs.

“AH-mm!” She held back the fires of her orgasm coming back and sat up, trying to push Jonathan against the bed but only getting denied. Katie was pushed against the mattress, her legs over Jonathan’s shoulders.

Pine grabbed his cock, rubbing the reddened, angry tip against Katie’s entrance. He felt her pussy throb with need and looked into her eyes as he slowly pushed his cock inside of her. He would never get over the feeling of how tight she was.

“D-Daddy!” Katie moaned loudly, pushing her breasts out as much as she could and whimpering as soon as she felt Pine’s mouth on her nipples.

Jonathan released one of her nipples with a pop and began to snap his hips into her, sweat rolling down his face as he was still fully clothed. “I cannot wait until you get pregnant- later on. I will fuck you every day and remind you just how beautiful you are to me.” He moves his hips faster, the tip of his cock hitting her cervix. Noticing her legs were getting sore, Jonathan pulled out and hissed from the cool air hitting his aching cock. “Fuck it.” He muttered, shedding his clothes off as he was too hot to continue in his attire. He mounted Katie once again, his member finding purchase inside of her snug cunt. “It’s like your pussy was made for me.” He takes the belt off of her wrists. “Be a good girl and touch me.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice as Katie spread her legs as far as she could. Her hands flying to his back and nails dragging down. “I-It’s so good!! Oh fuck!” She loses her interest in finishing out the DDLg play and stares into Jonathan’s eyes. “I love you, Jonathan! I love you!” She gasps, her walls milking him.

The pleasure is too much for either of them to handle and Pine grabs the headboard, moving his hips faster, harder. “I love you all the same, baby.” He drops his persona to match her and feels his orgasm coming fast. “Hold onto me.” He moaned out, feeling her legs wrap around his waist and arms around his torso. Jonathan lets go of the headboard and holds her just as tight, pistoning his hips and breathing hard against her neck.

“J-Jonathan I-” Katie cannot even finish her sentence as her eyes roll back from the most intense orgasm she has ever had. Her walls contract, squeezing Pine and causing him to spill inside of her.

“Kate-” He moans her name as he comes, his hips slowing yet still moving as he makes sure to get every last drop of his seed into her. Both of them are panting, sweaty messes as they still for a moment. Jonathan lifts his head up, kissing Katie deeply as they both come down from their highs. After another moment or so, Jonathan pulls out his soft cock and collapses next to her.

“I-I hope that helped.” She laughed softly, turning her gaze to his.

“It did. More than you know. Are you ok?” He caressed his knuckles on her clammy cheek.

Katie shakes her head and nuzzles into his touch. “I’m ok. I felt incredible actually.” She giggles and sits up, making her way to the bathroom to pee and wipe her now ruined makeup off.

After a moment of privacy, Jonathan cannot help but to stare at Katie’s naked form while she cleans her face. He smiles to himself as he thinks of how lucky he is to have her and that he was thankful she was willing to try again. It was never his intention to play games with her feelings, he just couldn’t process the idea of ever falling in love again. Not until now.

“Jonathan, you’re staring at me.” Katie says shyly, a smile on her face.

“I can’t help it. I’m in the presence of a literal goddess, wouldn’t you find it hard not to stare? Especially since she’s so short!”

“You jerk! I thought you were being all sentimental and then you had to go and say that!” Katie ran back into the room, grabbing her pillow and beating him with it, laughing.

“Hey! Hey! Don’t start this because I will win.” Jonathan holds his hands up, grinning.

“Yeah? Says who?”

“Says the guy who won all the dormitory pillow fights back in school!” Pine grabs his pillow and whacks it over Katie, making her squeal in delight.

“Ok! I yield!!” She giggles, placing her pillow back down and crawling into bed.

After Jonathan had also taken care of his business, he pulled Katie’s naked form against his own. His lips peppered kisses on her shoulder as he held her in his arms. “I won’t let go. Not ever.”

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

Outside of the hotel, a woman stared at the window of where Jonathan and Katie were staying. A wide, cat-like smirk spread across her round face. “He said he would give Pine two days to think about his decision… I’m giving him until tomorrow.”

#flowers in blood #jonathan pine smut #jonathan pine x ofc #jonathan pine #the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #my writing #tom hiddleston #fanfic #writing #spies in love

[gvbejvmes]

Task: Love Song Drabble

Title: #1 Crush Rating: Varies. Let’s go with R to be safe Characters: Mostly just Gabriel James-Michaels and Jonathan James-Michaels Pairings: Gabe/Johnny, vague Johnny/Joan Warnings: References child abuse, assault, murder, suicidal ideation Summary: To be a part of you 'cause I believe in you. Song Inspiration: #1 Crush by Garbage Notes: Behold my latest insanity. 12 drabblettes based on different lyrics from #1 Crush. These are not interconnected. And each section stands alone.

I would die for you

It’s not very often that Gabe goes to the courthouse. With all the time he spent in and out of court it’s put a bad taste in his mouth. Sometimes though, when it’s been a tough trial, he’ll meet Johnny and drag him off to dinner. This case was particularly bad, and he isn’t entirely surprised that the steps surrounding the courthouse are packed. There’s media coverage, protestors, and people just trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s absolute chaos and for a moment he thinks about maybe waiting until his husband makes it to the car. He doesn’t though.

He finds his husband easily enough, and his security detail lets him through. It’s when he’s standing next to Johnny that he sees what’s going to happen. There was a gap in security. Something that was missed among the crowd of people.  If it wasn’t for the way the muzzle caught the reflection of the late afternoon sun he wouldn’t have noticed. All he knows is that it makes perfect sense to step in front of the bullet intended for his husband.

Pure madness erupts around him. There’s screaming and just so much noise. The only thing Gabe really has the ability to process is that the front of his shirt is soaked in blood. Somehow he winds up on the ground of the courthouse steps, his head cradled in his husband’s lap. Everything becomes white noise, and all he can focus on in Johnny trying to talk to him. He has no idea what he’s trying to tell him, but it’s nice just being able to see his face as the world fades away.

I’ve been dying just to feel you by my side; to know that you’re mine.

Gabe can barely breathe, but it doesn’t matter. He just needs to make it until Mr. Michaels gets there. He’s not an idiot. He knows that he’s not going to survive. At this point he’s too far gone. It had been an ambush. The shiv had hit him just right and, well, an inmate dying in prison wasn’t an unusual tale.

The people around him keep trying to tell him that it’ll be okay if he passes before Mr. Michaels gets there, but it won’t be. He needs to see his lawyer one last time. It’s the only thing he can say; it’s the only thing he can think about. They’re trying to make him comfortable in the prison infirmary and all he wants is to see his lawyer one last time.

He didn’t get to tell him before, and now it’s almost too late. He needs to say it before he passes; he doesn’t want to be a ghost. He can’t die until Mr. Michaels knows he’s in love with him. It’s the only thing he needs to do; he feels it in his bones. 

And when his lawyer flies into the room, looking wild and not like himself, it’s with his last breath that Gabe says, “God, I love the fuck out of you.” Vaguely he can hear Mr. Michaels screaming his name, but that’s okay. It just means that he heard his last words.

I will cry for you.

This is his routine: he gets up, makes a cup of tea, lets the dogs outside and makes breakfast. Some days he drags himself into the shower; most days he doesn’t. He dresses in a sweatshirt that still faintly smells like his husband, and walks to the cemetery. He’s not supposed to be a widower. At least not at his age. He’s not even pushing fifty, and he’s alone. The kids say he still has plenty of life ahead of him yet, but they don’t understand it. Not really. He doesn’t have a life without Johnny in it.

The dirt is still fresh and there’s no headstone yet. There’s always flowers there, but he doesn’t know where they come from. They could be from one of the kids or they could be from one of his coworkers or friends. He’s never asked, but they’re always there, and they’re always fresh. He’s not the only one who has been visiting his husband’s grave.

He sits there for hours. Sometimes he sketches the scenery around him. It really is a pretty cemetery. Most of the time he cries for a love that was taken from him too soon. He never remembers how he gets home, but he always wakes up in his own bed, an empty bottle of whiskey next to him. And then he starts the cycle all over.

I will pray for you

He’s sitting in the ‘chapel’ of the hospital. It’s really just a small room labeled ‘chapel.’ It feels like any of the other waiting rooms. The only difference is that this room has pictures representing the different religions, and the lighting is turned down low. He’s sitting in what he supposes is supposed to be the Christian side. There’s a picture of who he assumes is Jesus and one of those kneelers he’s always seen in Catholic churches. He kneels down gingerly.

“Me and you.” And he feels stupid as hell for praying, but Johnny was in surgery, and the doctor didn’t sound very optimistic about his husband’s outcome. “We’ve never gotten along. Mom believes in you, but you never gave me a reason. I used to think that if you were real you would have saved me from my dad. Now, I don’t know what I think.” He closes his eyes. “Give me a reason to believe in you. Save him. I’ll never want anything else from you. I promise. Just save him. Please.”

I will sell my soul for something pure and true; someone like you.

It’s a no-brainer. Five years of happiness with his husband or watch as his husband slowly withered away from cancer. He doesn’t know if he can handle watching him die. At least this way they can have five good years. It’s probably a chicken shit thing to do, but Gabe thinks it’s practical. This is the best option for both of them to be happy and healthy.

That’s what brings him to the crossroads. And when the demon appears, he doesn’t hesitate to seal the deal with a kiss. He never saw himself as the type of person who would sell his soul, but everything has its time and place. And saving his husband’s life? His soul is the least he can pay.

See your face every place that I walk in.

The first time he sees the blue-eyed guy, Gabe walks into a trash can. He’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He tries to catch up with him, but he walks so quickly that Gabe loses sight of him. It’s such a huge college campus, and he already knows he’s not in any of his classes. He has no hope of seeing him again, except… he sees him over and over again. And every damn time he sees him, he can’t keep up with his fast-walking ass. 

He sees him in the dining hall, but by the time Gabe makes his way over to where he is: he’s already gone. One time he sees him in his residence hall at the end of the hallway, but slips into a room before he can reach him. He swore he saw him in the library once, but he got distracted by Velvet and when he looked up again, he was gone. One time when he was sneaking out of a sorority house, he saw him as he slid off the roof. 

The guy moved so fucking fast that he was never able to catch up with him, and then one day fate intervened. He was looking for a seat in the dining hall, and there he was! Immediately he sat down across from him. “Why the fuck do walk so fast?” He asked in greeting.

Obviously startled, the other guy looked up at him. “What?” And he was just staring at him.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for like a month.” 

He blinked at him. “Why?” And he didn’t look like he believed Gabe.

“Because you’re hot as fuck.” Gabe enjoyed the way the other man’s face flushed. “And being able to talk to you is the fucking highlight of my day.”

I will burn for you.

He can’t see; tears are blurring his vision but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s heartbroken as stares into the bonfire. This was supposed to be it. This was supposed to be his final relationship. This was the man he was supposed to grow old with, and yet the love of his life was having a kid with someone else.

It’s enough to break him. Johnny had tried to explain what happened, but he couldn’t listen to him. He just needed to get the fuck away from him, which was what led him here to the fire. Everything Johnny had ever given to him, every picture, every letter, every stolen sweatshirt - he’s throwing all of them into the fire. He doesn’t want any memory of this man. If he wants to have a baby with someone else, then he doesn’t need Gabe in his life.

And it’s that thought that has him putting his hand into the fire. If he’s burning everything that’s Johnny’s, he might as well burn himself, too. Not that he makes it far. He barely feels the stingy heat when suddenly a pair of strong and familiar arms pull him away from the fire and into his chest. 

Vaguely he can hear Johnny ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but all Gabe can manage is: “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” He thrashes against his (ex?)boyfriend, trying to get away from him so he can throw himself into the fire like the dramatic bitch he can be.

And still, Johnny holds onto him as he screams and cries until he can’t speak any more. Somehow they both wind up on the ground, Gabe in Johnny’s lap. His face is buried in the crook of his neck, and someone must have called the cops on them because he can hear the sound of sirens. And the thing is he’s absolutely furious with him, and yet he knows that in spite of everything, he’s still stupid in love with him.

Feel pain for you.

“Where is he?” Gabriel ignores the question and instead focuses on being anywhere but his current situation. As terrible as it was to think about, his childhood had prepared him for this moment. 

He didn’t need training to know how to withstand torture. His whole life had been leading up to this moment. He sure as hell doesn’t know who these guys are, but he knows two things. One, his dad could give these guys lessons on true torture. And two, it didn’t matter what they did. There was no way he was giving up Johnny’s location. He’d rather die than give him up.

I will lie for you.

He doesn’t know why he does it. All he knows is that this guy looks really uncomfortable. A blonde woman seems to be trying to chat him up, but he is not into it. And the woman? She was definitely not understanding the word no. So, Gabe walked through the crowded bar, up to the man, and kissed him in greeting. “Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late. Who’s your friend?” 

The man just looked at him not in disgust, but in surprise and a little bit of wonder. The woman suddenly looked embarrassed as all hell. “Oh my God. You’re gay. I am so sorry.” And with that she scurried away, off to find her next victim.

“Sorry about that.” He tried, but the other man was still just looking at him. It was like he was trying to figure him out. It’s that look that has Gabe tagging on. “I shoulda bought you a drink first. Can I buy you a drink?”

A smile slid onto the stranger’s face. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

I can steal for you

Gabe is nervous as fuck as Johnny opens the gift he got him. He knew it was something the other boy wanted. That wasn’t what he was worried about. He was more worried about what reaction he was going to get when his boyfriend saw what it was, and realized just what Gabe had done to get it for him. 

And sure, enough, Johnny likes it. It’s a leather braided bracelet with silver wound throughout. And it was expensive as hell. His boyfriend had looked at it in a store at the mall, but when he saw the price tag he’d put it back. They were fresh out of college. They could barely afford beer let alone an expensive birthday gift.

“Did you sell a painting?” And Gabe’s face must have given away how he had gotten it because suddenly Johnny looked disappointed. “Briel, you didn’t.” And he’s shaking his head. “I can’t keep this. You know that.”

He nodded. “But tonight, let’s just pretend that you can. Okay?”

His boyfriend kissed him softly. “Okay.”

I would die for you.

They’re walking down the street. It’s late at night, and they probably should have taken a cab, but the weather is mild and they felt like walking. 

He hears the car before he sees it, but he’s so detached from his past life that he’s not prepared for what happens next. He hears: “Yo, James! This is for Lefty.” 

And then there’s bullets everywhere. As the car peels away, he’s able to process what happened. He’s on the ground and Johnny is on top of him. He’d jumped in front of him when the gun was pulled 

“Jay?” And he’s shaking his husband but there’s no response. There’s a hell of a lot of blood, but no response. “JAY!”

I'd do time for you.

“I’m going to New York next week.” 

Sitting on this side of the glass partition was a little weird. Gabe had wanted to talk to his husband in the private visitation room, but there wasn’t an accessible path of travel from the visitors' side. It had been a month since Gabe was beaten and assaulted within an inch of his life, but he still couldn’t walk for long distances. He was a free man, but his freedom had cost his husband his. At one point Gabe’s heart had stopped, and Johnny had… reacted. The people involved in Gabe’s attack were now all dead, allegedly due to a hit his lawyer husband had put out. Which meant that for the second time during the length of their marriage one of them was going on trial for murder. 

“My doctor has finally cleared me to fly.”

Johnny didn’t say anything, he was too busy studying Gabe. Every time he came to visit, it was like he was drinking the sight of Gabe in. The first time he visited, he offered to get their marriage annulled since he was going to be in prison indefinitely. He’d shut that down real quick. It wasn’t like being separated by bars was anything new; this was fine - for now. 

Since then, he’d taken to studying Gabe as though he was visually checking that his wounds were finally healing. Mostly he seemed to get stuck on his ear more so than his wheelchair, most likely because the wheelchair was only temporary. He’d never get full function of his right leg back and he’d always have to wear a brace to support his left hand (his motor function was never coming back there), but his ear was what Johnny always fixated on. He’d never get his hearing back in his left ear, and his cauliflower ear was permanent. 

“Baby, are you even listening to me?” Gabe asked with a wry smile. “The guards feel bad for me so they let me stay longer than they’re supposed to, but they’re eventually going to wheel me out.”

His husband at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry.” And then he blinked as Gabe’s sentence hit him. “I’m sorry, did you say you’re going to New York? Why?”

Gabe grinned at him. “Because your mother is a terrifying human.” He admitted. “She doesn’t like the idea of me living alone while you’re here. She thinks the doctors are better in New York, and she thinks I’ll be safer living with her and your dad. She’s almost giddy. I’m actually really terrified of her, but she said this will also give me a chance to get a home all set up for us so that when you’re out all you have to do is come home.”

Johnny just stared at him. “You’re moving in with my parents.” He sounded like he was in total disbelief, but there was also something else in his voice he couldn’t quite place. It was… relief? “I’m going to have to give you a list of places my mother isn’t allowed to take you to. They’re places I want to show you.”

He couldn’t help but to nod. “You’re not mad that I’m leaving? She thinks I should stay out there until the trial, and I won’t be able to visit you and-” His husband put his hand against the glass. It was enough to distract Gabe, who pressed his own hand against his husband’s.

“It’s like she said. You’ll be safer there. And it’s only temporary.”

Gabe grinned. “Don’t worry. I still know a few guards that owe me favors. I’ll send you naked pictures.” 

A laugh was startled out of his husband. “Briel…”

#CJ tasks #drabble

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Can we get Nate reading to Mina?

CW: NONE. This is fluff, pure and simple. The fluffiest.

“D-Danny, get in here!”

Nate’s voice is urgent, and Danny looks up from kneading the dough he’s been carefully working on all day, his hands coated in extra flour to keep them from sticking. There’s a stripe of flour across on cheek, settled powdery into his scarring, spots of flour lightening his red hair and mixing with the silvery spots at his scalp. The dark blue canvas apron is dotted with flour, too.

Danny is good at baking, but he’s not exactly neat about it.

“Hold on, Nate, let me just get this in the oven-”

“No, I want you to s-see, come see what Mina’s d-d-doing!”

Danny sighs, wiping his hands off on his apron and feeling like that did absolutely no good whatsoever, then he walks through the big open-framed doorway to the living room and past it, into a little hall off to the right that leads to Mina’s toyroom.

He pauses for a second in the doorway just to look at them, Nate’s dark hair all he can see as he leans over his daughter. Mina’s braids are fresh from a trip to the see the women at the beauty salon they take her to, and Danny feels a surge of pride at how well his baby girl (she’s four, not so much a baby now, but she still feels like one to him) sits quiet and still while Miss Shonda’s fingers move fast and nimble through her hair. 

They have a little book open in front of them, and Danny tilts his head, grinning as he recognizes the title. “What do I need to see, Nate?”

Nate looks up and shoots Danny a bright smile, and Danny’s knees, for just a second, badly want to buckle. He doesn’t have the right to be so fucking handsome.

“Oh-okay, Mina, show D-Daddy what you can d-d-do.”

Nate’s stammering a lot, Danny thinks. Nervous, or excited.

He understands when Mina clears her throat, in a perfect echo of how Nate clears his just before starting a lecture, and begins to read.

“I... am... Sam,” Mina says slowly, carefully. Her high voice is absurdly solemn and her eyes are focused on the page with total intensity. “Sam I am.”

“She memorized the book?” Danny asks, proud of her for that - she’s smart as a whip and they both have always known it. It’s something else entirely to see it in action.

“N-No, Dan, I just brought this book home from the st-store on Sunday. She’s reading it.”

“She’s what? Nate, she’s four fucking-... she’s four years old!”

“Dollar for the swear jar, Daddy,” Mina says, looking up and wrinkling her nose.

Danny groans, putting a hand up over his face before he realizes he’s just smeared even more flour around. “Yeah, okay, baby. Can you read some more for me?”

“Okay, Daddy. Um.” She stares down, looking suddenly worried. “I, I, um-”

Danny wishes she hadn’t picked up his way of using ums too often, the habit he still struggles to break. But Nate puts his arm around her and pulls her close, whispers, “You can st-start over if that h-h-helps,” and Mina relaxes again, nodding.

“I... am Sam,” She starts again, her finger trailing under the words. “Sam I am. Th-... thuh… that Sam I am, that Sam I am... I duh-oooo… do not luh, luh… eye... kih-... like?”  She looks up, from Nate to Danny, and both of them nod quickly.

There are tears in Danny’s eyes as she keeps reading, stumbling her way through some words, and stops after the first two pages. His little girl is four years old and reading, all by herself.

“I c-could read at four,” Nate says softly. “It’s... f-f-fun that she can, too.”

“I’m reading all by myself,” Mina informs them proudly, as though they hadn’t been standing there watching her.

“I know, honey, and I’m so... wait, hold on, let me go grab my phone, I want to get a video for Ryan-” Danny puts a hand up and then ducks back towards the kitchen.

Mina watches him go, then turns back to Nate. “Daddy’s hair is white.”

“Y-yeah, and I’ll b-b-bet the sink is f-full of dishes I’ll g-get to wash later, too,” Nate replies, and hugs her tightly. “I’m so p-proud of you, Mina. Books are-”

“Important,” Mina finishes, still solemn, nearly grave-sounding.

“Right. Books are im, important. You’ll be ready for sch-... school next year for sure.”

Mina grins, then drops her head back to her book, and the two of them listen to the muffled sound of Danny excitedly describing his daughter’s absolute genius and Ryan’s answering demand to show me, show me right now, the meeting can wait it’s just with Jonathan anyway he’ll totally understand from the kitchen.

#dad fluff #epilogue #mina vandrum

[alias-b]

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me

California, 1992. Billy Hargrove and Camille Harper built their future in an endless, red hot summer. Everything changes with a splash of pale blue. Billy x OC! Camille Harper

A/N: The baby one shot I promised everyone! Occurs after my fic, "Without The Lights." Warning, I get into the not pretty side of pregnancy and Camille struggles with her illness. Sexual content. TW: graphic description of birth and postpartum depression. Mention of death and past torture. Cross posted here on AO3

1992

   She’d been late.

   Camille Harper was never late to anything.

   Then, she’d taken ill. Scents that used to thrill her in the morning like fresh coffee, fluffed pancakes, and scrambled eggs sent her scurrying into the bathroom.

   Billy looked up from his desk, covered in different lead pencils and scattering papers. Grotesque concept art for an upcoming horror film he’d been working on. Still pretty as a picture. Less of a baby in the face, but still just as sweet. Sprinkle of facial hair and lashes for days.

   “Ugh, so much for sleeping in Saturday.” Camille gargled mouthwash, spat, and wandered out. Brown hair grown out and piled up in a bun. Billy’s arm snaked around her hips, bringing her into his side. A temple pressed into her nightgown. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

   The back of his knuckle drew along her forehead. Cool metal of his wedding ring chilled.

   “No fever. You probably ate something last night, I told you the shrimp was a bad idea.”

   The very word ‘shrimp’ almost made her hurl again.

   “We’re not trying that place again.” Camille kissed the top of his head. Curls longer like a rockstar around his shoulders. “I have a new case to prepare for the office Monday.”

   “Boy or girl?” Billy set his pencil down and watched her plop into the couch.

   “Girl.” Camille frowned, rubbing her head. “She’s got a wall up, this one. Office likes me so her case is mine. Arthur thinks it’s a good match, but I’m actually nervous.”

   “Arthur this and that.” Came a scoff. “School buddies who ended up at the same office. Pshh.”

   “Arthur is taken now and quite happy.”

   “Who swept him off his perfect feet so he’ll quit bothering my wife?”

   “Lovely man named Stanley.” Camille laughed when Billy gave a double take. “Went drinking together while you played with latex masks last Thursday.”

   “It was crunch time. I’m sure your new case will be fine. Brilliant Dr. Harper. Blazing through all that schooling and study abroad. Almost in the clear.” Billy mused, switching his light off. “We’ll see if they like this new design I got. Tea?”

   “Yes, please.” Camille slid down the couch, pulled a fuzzy blanket into her body while Billy went into the kitchen. Cozy apartment they could afford. Walls covered in memories. Photos and degrees. She clicked the remote and settled on a light movie. Look Who’s Talking.

   A campy opening of sperm headed toward a dropped egg after a mini love scene with Kirstie Alley. Camille sighed, rubbing her head before something clicked the same moment hot water howled from the tea pot in the kitchen.

   “Oh, shit.” She shot up. Blinked. “No way.” They hadn't exactly been trying. But, they hadn't not been trying.

   “Getting your Travolta fix?” Billy set a mug down and Camille blinked at him.

   “Ah, yeah.” She shot up. “I just remembered...I was supposed to hit the drug store. We’re out of...everything.”

   “Everything? I’ll drive you to the store.” Billy chuckled.

   “No, it’s just around the corner, I need the walk. Fresh air. No shrimp.” Camille skidding around him to toss clothing on their bed. Dressing in jeans and a tee. “Keep working. Need anything?”

   “I’d kill for a Milky Way.” He shrugged, plopping back into his seat. Camille was hopping around to put some shoes on. Sun from outside caught his face and she pressed her lips, kissing his cheek.

   “I’ll bring you something sweet.”

   Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Camille nearly jogged down the steps from the fourth floor. Grabbed a basket when she got to the mini-mart and tossed randoms items they needed in. Billy’s candy included. Stopped in a section that made her cold.

   Pregnancy tests.

   “Jeez.” She mulled over boxes before snatching one.

   Ignored the idle way the clerk peered at her stomach when he rang it up. Christ. California sun and wind swept against her body. Usually it set her at ease, but a ball of nerves sank into her stomach when she took the elevator back up. Billy was on the couch now, looking up as she tossed the candy into his lap.

   “You okay?”

   “Feeling sick again.” Camille half lied and went into the bathroom. Locked the door. Stared at the clear plastic curtain as she peed on a stick. Washed her hands and pulled at her watch. It ticked slower to spite her.

   “Camille?” Billy knocked. “Something’s up.”

   “Ah, just a second,” she paced, “give me just another second.”

   “Let me help.”

   “Oh, believe me...you did.” She sat on the side of the tub. Stared at the colored tiles. So many to count. Billy exhaled on the other side of the door. Didn’t leave. “Billy, I’ll be fine.” Her own tone shook.

   Did she want this?

   Were they ready?

   How was she going to feel if it’s nothing?

   How was she going to feel it it’s blue?

   Camille didn’t have time to think through each possible dream because reality spoke for her.

   Blue. Crystal clear sky.

   “Camille.” Billy jimmied the lock until the door popped open. She looked up in tears.

   “...Is that?”

   “Blue.” She breathed with one fist curled to her chest. Burst into tears. Unable to tell if they were happy or sad. She just needed to cry. Billy swept toward her.

   “Hey, hey. I got you.” Billy kissed her cheeks until she was soothed. Held her there while she clung to his shoulders.

   “It’s blue.”

   “What’s...that mean?” Billy met her eyes. “You’re...”

   “Blue.” Camille said again. Licking her lips before they pressed. “I’m pregnant.”

   “We’re having a baby?” Billy blinked at her. She waited for him to panic. But, he smiled. So bright that it made her burn with jealousy to be confused about it. “We’re having a baby!”

   Billy grabbed his wife. Held her close to him. Settled Camille just a little, she tried to feed off his glow.

   “Ninety nine percent accuracy. We need to, ah, go to a doctor first.” She let Billy pull her up. Out into the living room.

   Why was she riddled with confusion and anxiety while he bubbled with excitement? He danced her around to no music like a true romantic.

   “Let’s not...say anything until we go. I’ll make an appointment. After my meeting Monday?”

   “Yeah, yeah.” He swept hair aside and smiled again, so youthful. Kissed her there in the sun. Meanwhile, she felt life being sucked into a swirling pit. Billy tugged Camille into the couch, nestled her into his chest. “Are...Are you happy?”

   “I’m… Blue “...something.”

** ** **

   It was real. Confirmation at the doctor and life turned in on itself. People were careful with her. Work tried to withhold cases she’d fought for.

   She had a woman’s condition. They treated Camille like it was fatal.

   “Jim? Are you still there?”

   A thud on the other end was followed by scrambling.

   “Camille?” Joyce had the phone now. “Jim, get up.”

   Camille laughed that time.

   “Your father’s fine, just shocked. Oh, Jim, stop being dramatic!” Came some bickering.

   “I’m going to be a grandpa!” There was more laughter on their end.

   “Can you two stop kissing in my ear already?” Camille twirled the cord and stretched her legs out into Billy’s lap. Let him massage her ankles. “We wanted to know...if you guys would come down for the birth. Should be early November, I’m due.”

   Billy started counting something on his fingers, earning a soft kick.

   “Max and El already freaked. Letting them follow me to UCLA was such a mistake.” Camille joked. Mike and Lucas in Washington. Will and Dustin following Nancy and Jonathan to New York. Steve, Heather, and Robin living blissfully in Chicago. Rumor had it Regan and Kali turned up there too.

   “You’re listening to the doctors, right?” Jim turned stern. Such a dad.

   “You know it,” Camille brought the phone away, “Billy, you want to pass me a beer?” He just snorted.

   “Hey, none of that.” Jim was in her ear. “We’ll fly over now.”

   “No need. We’re fine. We’ll figure things out when it gets closer, yeah? Telling work was mortifying enough. But, we got the leave figured out. Arthur’s been such a help. Don’t worry about anything.” Camille sighed when Billy’s hands worked up her legs. Had to slap him out of her skirt.

   “Congrats, Camille! Billy, you tell Susan?” Joyce stole the phone.

   “We heard her crying from over here. Same with Grace. She and Elliott choked him near to death. Billy also tells me that Miss Mayfield was set up with a certain middle school teacher, how the hell did that happen?”

   “Mr. Clarke can be quite charming,” Joyce chirped and a groan erupted from Jim, “passes Susan’s little boutique on the drive to the school every day. Started stopping in. Flirting in his way. I couldn’t tell you.”

   “Glad Rosemary’s former team was willing to do us some favors and help her out with that.” Camille was still squirming away from Billy’s advances. His lips on her neck. “Well, I should go. But, any and all advice is wanted.”

   “She already tore through all the mommy books in the library. Ignore her.” Billy stole the phone. “Hops. Can I call you Pops now?”

   “If I can call you, dead.” Jim smiled when Joyce swatted his chest.

   “I expect you to spoil my kid.”

   “Will do. Make sure Camille takes it easy.”

   “Oh, I will.” Billy said goodbyes and pushed his hips into Camille’s, a sigh followed.

   “Hate you.” She settled her arms around his neck. A long kiss followed.

   “Valentine’s Day.”

   “Hm?” She went for his neck and jaw. Immersed in him.

   “By my count, we made her Valentine’s Day. Wonder if it was the car or the counter or the couch or the bed?”

   “I hate you...and it could have been the floor too.” She chuckled into his skin. Kissed him fiercely. The phone rang again. Billy reached over to snatch it.

   “Hargrove.” He let Camille paw at him. Twirling his hair about. Worshiping him with starry eyes. Billy’s own eyes opened and he pushed up with Camille still attached to him. “Why are you calling, I’ve told you-?”

   Camille let him go immediately. Saw the cold way he went rigid.

   “What?” Billy sounded breathless. “I...”

   “Billy?” Camille touched his face when his eyes welled.

   “Fine, just don’t call here again.” The phone slammed and he was up. Pacing. Rubbing his eyes.

   “Billy, who was that?” Camille hurried after him. Tried to tug at his arms but he slipped off.

   “Just...give me a second.” He didn’t make it into their room. Collapsed to the floor and covered his face.

   “Billy!” She gathered her husband into her chest. He just sobbed. “Billy, who was that?”

   “...Neil. He's been trying to call.”

   “You didn’t tell me that.”

   “I didn’t want to freak you out. I kept hanging up. I was terrified you’d pick up and he’d...” Billy sniffled. Clung to her. Cried more. Camille petted curls helplessly. Kissed blond hair and soft cheeks all better. “He’s sick.”

   “What?”

   “He’s dying. Cancer. Not the kind you get better from.” Billy lifted. “Don’t know why I’m crying about it, I’ll be glad he’s… He asked to see me. How can he fuck up my life and then just…?”

   Disappear.

   “Where is he?”

   “Colorado.” Billy wiped his eyes. “Fuck him.”

   “Do you...want to go?”

   Billy thought of Neil with his skin sunken and yellow. No longer handsome. Rasping at him from a mattress. Pissing himself. Dying alone in a cold bed like his father before him. He turned to Camille and cupped her stomach.

   “No, I don’t.” A long kiss into her abdomen. “I want to hold our baby. Take her to the park. Make her feel safe. I promise I’ll never...” He stopped. Blinked several times. I’ll never be like Neil. Nuzzled into Camille’s neck. “I love you.”

   “I love you too.” She let Billy’s broad body sink into her. Brought him to bed where they could wrap each other up. Feverish and dizzy until he pushed inside her. Melted their mouths. Gasped into her neck. Succumbed to the sweltering heat. He sought comfort and burrowed under her skin. Pushed fingers between thighs. Fucked her into the mattress while they reached peaks.

   Hours later, Camille heard Billy get up, thinking she’d fallen into slumber. Came to the door to listen.

   “Hey...” He said into the phone. Whispering. “No, you listen. I’m not… I don’t want to see you. I’ll just remember you healthy. Able enough to give hard lessons. I just...wanted to call and say Camille and I are having a baby… I think it’s a girl.”

   There was silence for a few beats.

   “We’re going to name her Sara and she won’t be learning hard lessons. She won’t be afraid of me like I...” Billy paused.

   Life flashed these vivid images of his childhood. His mother’s bracelet scattering across the pavement. That one moment Neil let him cling.

   “You ever think things could have been different for us, you know, after mom? I do. A lot. But, I can’t live in that… You beat the shit out of me. You hurt my wife. You hurt Susan and she’s still trying to move on. Max’s hair is all grown out and she won’t let anyone touch it. You won’t hurt my daughter. But, I’ll tell her about you. Tell her she had a grandfather who made bad choices and ended up…”

   “...Yeah, I think she’ll get the Hargrove jaw too.” Billy softened, lifted his eyes to the starlight beyond the window. Wondered if Neil was looking too. “I’ll tell her your name. Not much else. Hardest lesson I learned was realizing I’m not going to be like you. I’m sorry you wasted your life, I’m not going to. I’m going to be a good dad. I...just wanted to tell you that. That I'm in love still and I’m going to be a great father to my little girl. I’m going to keep her safe in this world. Goodbye, dad... We loved each other once.”

   Billy hung up. Curled into a ball to cry silently. Camille inched out until his head lifted. Arms came up to accept her there.

   “Shhh, I got you.” She tucked Billy’s head under her chin. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be an amazing daddy. I’m so lucky you’re mine. We’re going to be okay.”

   “God, I’m supposed to be holding you.” He chuckled at himself and Camille beamed.

   “We’ve got each other.”

   Neil Hargrove died in his sleep late April of 1992. Alone in a cold bed.

** ** **

   Camille’s belly turned into a mini planet Billy couldn’t stop kissing. Dealt with some fiery stares when he made comments about her swelling breasts. It was true, tired all the same, she glowed. Billy fed her odd cravings. Made her feel as sexy as he could until she was climbing atop him. Riding him because she needed it now and bad. He liked that part.

   A million baby books later, Billy became an annoying infant factoid machine.

   "Did you know if-?"

   "Billy," Camille groaned into the couch, "I want Thai food again."

   "I swear to god, Camille, our kid is going to come out trying to order a pad see ew, extra spicy."

   "...Two orders please."

   Billy was weak. He ordered her three to last her.

   Elliott, now eleven years old, took to painting seashells and starfish along her belly when she was stuck on the couch. Billy’s excitement never stilled. Only illuminated. So willing to learn this all. They cleared spaced. Decorated a little nursery all under the sea themed. Camille was more riddled with anxiety. Always steadying her breath. Talking to the little life inside her. Constant gifts and advice from friends helped from time to time.

   “Billy!” Elliott jumped up when he came home. “Think I could work in movies like you?”

   Camille was giggling. Hard. Her shirt pulled over her stomach painted with the shark from Jaws.

   “Guess what we watched?”

   “It wasn’t even scary.” Elliott crossed his arms, ruffling waves of brunette hair. “That was kid stuff.”

   “Think so,” Billy swept him up, growling for effect. Baring teeth like a shark. Earned a giggle.

   “She cried again at a TV commercial.” Elliott whispered and Billy snickered.

   “I'm allowed to have emotions, you two. Roger is going to be here any minute.” Camille pushed up. “Who wants ice cream?”

   “Mint chip?” Elliott followed after her.

   “You know it, kid.” She braced one hand on her back and the other around his shoulders. Billy shook his head and dropped a bag on his desk. Water ran as Camille washed her belly off and Elliott pulled out a pint of ice cream with two spoons. “Your big brother doesn’t have our sophisticated taste in ice cream.”

   They shared a few bites over the counter. Camille groaned a little and pressed a spot on her stomach.

   “You’re doing that a lot, sissy.” The affectionate name he’d picked up when he was little never left. Camille felt a cramp well like a great wave.

   “Just my girl dancing around. Picking fights with my organs. She’s definitely going to be like her daddy. Want to feel?”

   Elliott smiled his toothiest grin and reached out. Let Camille press his hand to her side.

   “Spicy food and mint ice cream is all I want these days.”

   “My mom said she liked mac and cheese with tomatoes with me.” He gasped, feeling the baby. “She high-fived me!”

   “Billy kissed my stomach once and got a swift kick.” Camille snickered, scooping more ice cream to enjoy. Billy paced in, pecking her cheek before he stole a spoon and the strawberry pint in the freezer.

   “All mine.” He shrugged, eating. Camille hunched, moaning a few minutes later. “Camille, you sure you’re okay?”

   “It’s just minor...cramps. I’m fine. She’s not coming out for another two weeks.” Camille licked her spoon.

   “She’s been doing it all day. Like this...Oohh...” Elliott mirror a motion with his hand on his back and the other on his stomach. Billy raised his brow.

   “They’re far, far apart.” Camille turned to the ice cream and felt a pop. A gush of fluid like she’d peed herself. Billy’s spoon clattered.

   “Sissy?” Elliott took her hand because he was closest. “Cami, what’s happening?” Billy was at his wife’s side, holding her.

   “Her water broke.”

** ** **

   A million phone calls later and Camille was whimpering, pacing around a bed. Wobbling side to side. Bracing her hands to groan. She decided on a birthing center and midwife over a hospital. Place looked more like a hotel and had a hot tub for those births. Cozy space all for them.

   Billy held a lot of jokes back.

   “The baby book’s-”

   “Fuck the baby books!” Camille’s red face lifted. A demonic edge to her voice and even Billy backed up. “Photographic memory is worth shit!” He edged off. “Sorry, I’m...oh! I want drugs. I want my midwife! I want Thai food... It’s early!”

   “She’s on the way now. Jim and Joyce were on a plane an hour ago. Max is driving El here. Just breathe.”

   “Fuck my breathing!” She sounded truly possessed. Grabbing at Billy over the bed with some crazy burst of pregnancy strength. “I want drugs… What if she comes out hurt because it’s early. Or like me?”

   “She’s fine. Hey...” Billy pried her hand from his shirt and crossed around. “She’s going to be perfect.” He held her. Placed a kiss into hair. Camille’s face was blushed and beading with sweat. Limbs shook as she braced into the bed.

   “Camille!” A woman who could have bench pressed Billy hurried in. “Oh, poor girl. Keep breathing like I taught you.”

   “Ellen.” Camille winced. The girls were on a first name basis. Ellen was a former body builder and wrestler turned midwife. Lost some kids of her own and swore to help other girls keep their babies. “I can’t. I can’t.”

   “Might want to go get some ice chips, Bill.” She turned to him looking frantic and reeling it in. “Two cups.”

   “For her?”

   “For both of you. You’re in for a long night.”

   Billy scrambled. Passed the waiting room where Roger and Elliot sat for Grace and the rest of the family to arrive after driving the crying girl in.

   Hours of groaning and wailing. Women in other rooms joined in like a chorus of cries and soft birthing songs. Billy joked they were calling out to each other. Solidarity for the pain women were created to endure.

   “Camille, honey, you have to get up like this. Just like we practiced.”

   “I can’t,” she only moaned, shaking her head back and forth.

   “Daddy, she needs you. We’re almost there, I’ll be back in with assistance. She has to get into position.” Ellen continued, lighting a fire under Billy while he paced. The midwife jogged out into the hallway where more women vocalized together. Called out to ensure none felt alone in this.

   “Something’s wrong, she’s gonna come out like me.” The girl sounded delirious. Billy cupped Camille face, watched her eyes dart over his welling expression. “She’s gonna tear a part of me out and I can’t stop her.”

   “I want her to be like you.” Billy admitted.

   “Don’t say that.” A hand pulled for his shirt. Camille twitched with anger at him. “Don’t say that again!”

   “No, I hope she’s exactly like you and she’ll have parents who love her. We’ll teach her never to force a smile. That perfection is bullshit. I hope she’s like you, I have this entire time.”

   “The world’s going to swallow her.”

   “We won’t let that happen.” Billy smiled because he was so certain about that.

   “She’ll be in pain.”

   “And we’ll see her through that too. Pain happens. Means we're here sometimes. Means we're strong enough to fight through it and she won't be alone. You gotta get up, she needs you.”

   “Camille!” Another voice at the door.

   “Dad. Jim, you’re here.” She wheezed when Jim came to her with Joyce’s hand in his. Sprinkles of grey in his hair. Joyce pulled her brown locks back into a ponytail.

   “Hey, sweetheart, we’re all here for you.” She came around the bed. “Max and El want to come in, we got them to stay with the others. Just breathe, you’re almost there.”

   “How’re you holding up, punk?” Jim clapped Billy on the shoulder, earning a chuckle.

   “Just barely, Hops. Lots of ice chips.”

   “I swear by those, you might want more.”

   “She’s crushing my hand.” Billy lifted his near white palm. Camille’s digging fingers into his skin.

   “He did this to me,” Camille hissed. Another bout. Another groan that tore the room. Ellen was back at her side.

   “Camille, come up now, that’s my girl.”

   A growl ripped violently.

   Like a werewolf mid transformation.

   Camille huffed and got to her hands and knees. Thought to rip her flesh away and reveal fur and muscle hiding underneath. Teeth growing and sharp to stark points while her veins darkened.

   She could have torn through a forest. Howled at the moon. One last time.

   It glowed bright before her. Speckled with stars.

   She counted them to herself.

   “Hold on, here.” Ellen guided stirrups higher so she could grip them. Had her squatting on the bed. “Breathe.” The thin cotton of the gown was damp. Hanging from one shoulder. She growled and tore it open down the front. Veins pulsing and pushing. No drugs. Just a body built for agony. Miles of it. Nude and feral.

   Camille screamed at the moon this time. For gawking. Grabbed at Billy again while he helped brace her into position.

   She howled and other women howled back. A great echo into the unknown. Into the dark night. Wolves in a pack itching to run through wind and rustling trees. Feral bodies that were so often controlled by weaker beings. Free and shameless.

   Women were not always soft, they were hard edges of steel slicing skin to pieces. Teeth gnashing muscle and bone apart. Hot irons of a beating heart within a hollowed chest cavity. Camille led a brigade with her.

   “Big push now!” Came the command.

   Camille tossed her head back and roared. Succumbed to the flames and blood lust. Thought her bones would break and shift so she could become the beast. Bring the world to its knees.

   Ellen reached down, head lifting.

   “Camille, it’s time. Another big push for me.”

   Camille only braced herself. Bones chattering. Words echoed with encouragement from her family. From Billy as he held onto her. Ellen repeated herself from the right.

   “Ahhh!” Vocal cords vibrated and almost ripped apart. Teeth baring. A gasp when it reeled back. Sweat and blood dribbled down Camille’s quivering thighs.

   “Almost, sweetheart, almost. Keep pushing for us.”

   “I can’t, I can’t.” Came the chants. Jim thought to step forward as he watched her spine press out into skin, but Billy sprang into action.

   “You can do this.” He kissed her temple. “You can.”

   “I’m not ready, I can’t.” Camille cried so hard. Looked out at the sky.

   It was all blue.

   “Camille,” Billy murmured into her hair, “I love you. You can do this.”

   The stars glowed brighter beyond the window. She longed to reach out and catch one.

   “They’re singing to me.” She whispered more so to herself. Lips opening to howl and sing with them. The women echoing her calls. The stars waiting beyond the veil.

   She waited for fur to ripple her skin. For claws to grow long and sharp.

   “That’s it, Camille, push!” Ellen took one hand, guided it down to feel something warm and wet. Camille screamed and they helped her stay upright when something stronger and more youthful than her tore from a body built of steel and stardust. “Take your baby. She’s here. Cradle the head.”

   Camille was sobbing as she pulled a tiny mass to her bare chest. A fallen star she managed to grasp. It echoed her screams. More powerful and beet red. Slicked with blood and fluids.

   Unable to stay upright, she was guided back with Ellen and Billy’s help. Looked almost wild in the starlight. Bloodied and nude with her cub cradled close.

   The baby wailed over Camille until she quieted in a daze. It overcame her with so much ease. Felt like she was slipping into a warm bath. Endless pools. Unbothered by her nudity there in the wash of moon.

   “Look at her,” Billy gasped through tears. Kissed Camille’s cheek again. “I’m so proud of you, you did it. She’s beautiful.”

   She half expected him to say, my, my, what big eyes you have.

   “Congratulations, mommy and daddy.” Ellen was ushering her assistant around.

   Camille didn’t look down. Couldn’t. Not at this little pup that ripped from her. That howled with her at the moon. This beating heart she would nurture and teach to glow all neon and red. The baby felt its mother’s heart beating under her little head and made it her first lullaby. Camille felt for a moment, that she had no more life in her. No more fight to tear through the woods leading a pack of wailing women.

   “Let’s get her cleaned up.” Ellen pulled the whimpering infant away to tend to her. Camille sat sprawled there half naked with one leg hanging over the side. Her own fluids in a puddle beneath her. Warm and oddly comforting. Billy and the assistant worked to maneuver her into another mattress so the dirtied one could be rolled off.

   “Camille?” Billy cupped her face there against a plush pillow. Covered her body. “Hey.”

   “She’s just a little dazed.” Joyce was smoothing brown hair back. Hopper’s hand on her shoulder. “You did so good, honey.”

   Ellen pushed a peach bundle back into Camille’s arms without asking. Helped her cradle the head as she propped herself up into the pillows. Hazel eyes lowered to see her daughter at last.

   Bright, crystalline eyes. A full head of dark hair already. Blinking and still at her mother. Billy leaned into Camille’s shoulder with a tired grin. Fingers grazed his baby’s cheek. Lips lowered to feel the tufts of hair, to inhale the scent of new life. The urge to cry overshadowed her smile.

   “Sara Anne Hargrove, welcome to the world.” Billy said. “Halloween birthday, I’m jealous.” Glowing with vitality Camille didn’t feel as he spoke.

   She heard the other women crying out and mourned that she no longer had the strength to roar with them.

** ** **

   “She’s so tiny.” El glittered, cradling the baby with Jim’s help.

   “She makes that same squinty face Billy does, look.” Max joked. Both girls as tall as Camille. So grown up and out into this big world. Jim crossed to see Camille when Billy went into the hallway to sign some papers.

   “You okay, kid?” He tucked a strand of hair away. She stared beyond him at the moon.

   “I never asked you if it was okay. Her name.”

   “I think it’s perfect.” Jim smiled and Camille pressed her lips at him. “Joyce and I will stick around if that’s okay. Help you get situated.”

   “We’d appreciate that. Grace and Roger live a ways out.” Camille blinked, head back to see everyone fawning over the baby across the way.

   “You okay?” Jim felt a great distance pool within his kid.

   “I’m...” Blue. “A mother.”

** ** **

   Sara wouldn’t latch.

   It took extra help to get her to at the birthing center and Joyce assisted at home.

   “Give her a second.” Billy tried to help. Tried.

   “You want to do this?” Camille’s eyes snapped at him. He put his hands up in response.

   “I’ll start dinner.” He slunk away into the kitchen where Jim was. Max and El left because they had class the next day. Grace promised to come up as much as she could after kissing Billy a million times. Phone calls and cards poured.

   “Ah...” Camille wiggled in her seat. Perched on an extra pillow because everything below her waist was raw and padded. Her stomach went down slowly while her breasts ballooned. Sara suckled in her arms and Joyce only offered encouragement. “It hurts.”

   “They never tell you that in the books.” Joyce sighed. “Jonathan gave me all sorts of trouble too. You’ll get the hang of it.” Camille winced and settled her head back against the couch. Felt like she was just waiting for it to be over. Everyone gushed about this amazing connection they would share and here she was just floating.

   Maybe that was just something else to get the hang of.

** ** **

   Camille started to have dreams. Maternity leave only made her restless. She cried when Billy packed her files away into the closet. He’d gotten the first month to stay with her while she’d gotten three.

   And she wanted to go back.

   Billy didn’t dare ask why the urge to see these kids over her daughter quelled.

   So, Camille dreamed a lot on rare nights she got sleep.

   Barely ate.

   A white room with white sheets in a white bed. Camille in all white too. Doctors fussing as she bloodied the room with her mess. Her womanhood that was supposed to be kept in check. Sara crying. Screaming. Echoing.

   One doctor pulling his mask down. Smiling wider than a circus clown. Brenner.

   Camille tore up and screamed too until Billy started to shake her awake.

   Only one week in and she’s unraveling with dark circles and a broken in body.

   “Camille!” Billy just held her until she stopped.

   “No, no, I have to check on her.” She ripped away from him. Scrambled into the other room to hover over the crib. Sara sleeping soundly and undisturbed. A sigh.

   “Camille, come out, you’ll wake her.” Billy rubbed his eyes. She ignored him, felt around the window for a latch.

   “You left it unlocked.”

   “What?”

   “I told you to lock it last night.” Camille’s neck twisted with a heated expression. Eyes glinting like an animal.

   “She took awhile to sleep, I forgot,” he paused, “I’m sorry.”

   “They could come in and take her. In the dark. Just like that.” She seethed in a struggle to keep her voice low. Billy gently pulled her from the room and shut the door.

   “I’ll remember next time. Nothing can climb to the window.” He rubbed her shoulders. Only got pushed away as Camille checked the door. “Camille? Who...”

   “Brenner!” She burst and covered her mouth. “If she’s like me, they’ll come take her in the night. In the dark. They’ll take her away and make her a number. You'll die and I'll be rocking in some hospital.”

   “Brenner is dead. That won’t happen.” Billy realized her fears. Saw her eyes glimmer there. “That lab is dead, no one will come for her. She’s safe with us.” He sat her on the couch. Watched her quiver and hold herself. Head dropping. The baby monitor in their bedroom echoed a wheezy sound. “Come get back in bed, I got this one. You had her yesterday.” Billy sighed and tucked Camille in. Left.

   “Hey, you...some set of lungs you got.” Billy’s voice spoke through the haze of static. “There you go. I mastered the art of the diaper, I think I-no, no, don’t pee on, daddy. You weren’t done.”

   A giggle.

   “Yeah, I’m your daddy, Sara. Bet you have some freckles coming in. My mom says I had mine young too.”

   Camille pictured her husband at total peace. Seated in the rocking chair wagging his finger and smiling at their baby. Soothing her. It made her weep silently until she shoved a fistful of blankets into her mouth. Billy took to this life a duck to water.

   And she…

   She just fizzled and sunk. Dreamed of Brenner coming and Sara being torn away. Never knew what to say. What to do. Billy seemed to have it figured and that just made her feel behind and confused.

   “You are my sunshine...my only sunshine...” Billy sang and Camille covered her face. Blocked her ears because it was too much. He returned ten minutes later to hold her. Kissed her hair and uttered the sweetest I love you because he felt so fulfilled and lucky.

   Camille pretended to be asleep.

** ** **

   Breastfeeding hurt still.

   Second week. Camille never slept. Put on her brave face for family visits. But they saw it in her eyes. She sang to Sara and chatted with her. Changed her to perfection. Kissed her head. But, the connection. The emotions welled up like they were blocked in her throat.

   Her body healed and only felt lifeless. Like she was a puppet controlled by another. Strings twisted all along her limbs to make her flop along a stage. Little clumsy ballerina. Going through the motions. She only cringed when the baby cried.

   Sara needed her.

   And it made her shrink.

   She was mommy. Warm arms and shelter. A knowledge base that would mold their baby.

   That suffocated. Billy smiled and cooed and Camille looked away. He just seemed so happy. She felt wrong.

   Why didn’t that come for her too?

   “Camille, look, look.” Billy was lying on the couch, lifting Sara up as she giggled to no end. Little limbs flailing. She bubbled a raspberry and he chuckled.

   Camille stood there in the kitchen doorway and averted her eyes.

   “Come sit with us.” He pushed up, nestling Sara into his lap.

   “I’m going to ask if I can go back early. To work. They need me.”

   “Uh,” Billy tread carefully, standing, “it hasn't even been a month. We’re still figuring this out. Take the time. You earned it.”

   “I can work part time.” Camille said it without any emotion. Not blinking. Staring at his feet while Sara wiggling there into his chest and played with blond curls.

   “I don’t want to make this choice for you, but I think it’s a bad idea. We haven’t even figured out our hours when we go back. Babysitters. Camille, don’t push it-...why won’t you even look at her?”

   Billy said that without even thinking. Camille’s eyes glinted at him.

   “What?”

   “It’s like you want nothing to do with us anymore.”

   “That’s not true.”

   “Well, look at her then. Hold her. We made her and she’s perfect.”

   “Billy.” Camille backed up. Touched her palms to her ears. Didn’t know how to not hear this. “Stop it. I’m fine… Stop saying that word.”

   “Huh?”

   “Perfect, she doesn’t have to be-”

   “You know what I mean.” He eased. Camille vibrated there. Paranoid. Manic. Lost. Went around him and slammed a door. Sara jilted. Started to cry as he bounced her. “Hey, no, you’re fine. Mommy’s just upset. She’s tired. She’s just tired.”

   Camille slid down the door. Cried there because she scared her little girl. She made her baby cry. She was a bad mother. These thoughts chanted until she was covering her ears again. Got into bed and curled into the tiniest ball she could.

   Something strange happened as she shook and wept there. Her fist beating into her shoulder. Punishing herself for being bad until sleep crept. A bad mommy. Bad. Bad. Bad. The skin purpled with a bruise that next morning. Camille felt Billy stirring behind her.

   They slept apart.

   “Hey, I gotta go pick up some stuff. I’ll grab groceries.” He kissed her head. “Might be a few hours.”

   “Okay.” Camille rasped, eyes on the wall. On the rain trickling outside.

   “Camille, last night, I-”

   A whimper on cue from the monitor.

   “I got her. She’s hungry.” A robe pulled over her nightgown. Over the bruise. She couldn’t look at Billy as she left. Plucking Sara up, she went out to the couch to feed her. Her husband appeared dressed and eyed her carefully.

   “I’ll be back soon.” Billy reassured her. Hesitated at the door before he lifted his eyes. “Love you.”

   “...Love you.” Camille said quieter. Let the TV drone. Billy locked the door and didn’t make it to his Camaro. Instead pushed coins into a payphone.

   “Yeah? Hello?” A tired voice answered from a hotel room.

   “Jim.” Billy swallowed. “Hey, I...”

   “You alright, Billy?”

   “It’s Camille. I don’t...” Billy paused. “I’m headed out to run some errands. Can you come over? Sit with her a bit. I left the key under the mat.”

   “Billy, is everything okay?”

   A pause. Billy didn’t know how to tell Jim what he saw. But, Camille always responded to Jim’s love. She needed it right now. Billy felt useless.

   “I don’t know.” See for yourself.

   He hung up and got into his car. Wiped his eyes before he pulled out.

** ** **

   “Come on, we can do this.” Camille groaned. One breast out to feed the baby. “Please.” Sara wiggled in protest. She looked up at her mother. Smiled.

   Camille shattered.

   “Don’t do that.” She quivered.

   Don’t look at me with undying trust and love.

   Don’t look at me like I'm all you got because I’m failing you.

   “I’m sorry.” Camille offered at last. Felt like she’d been holding that in since she saw the strip turn blue. “I’m sorry, I can’t...I’m a bad mommy and I’m so sorry.” Tears hit Sara’s cheeks and blanket. A baby blanket Grace knitted with the baby’s name in it. Pale lavender. Camille sobbed and held her. “I don’t know why I feel like this and I’m so sorry.”

   She couldn’t stop. The baby just cooed at her. Grabbed for long locks of brown hair.

   Don’t cry, mommy.

   That was how Jim found them.

   Camille drained of life and sobbing over the baby she felt she'd let down. Skin discolored and bruised. Clothing loose and crumpled. One of her breasts out. Hyperventilating. Vibrating. Sara still contented in her arms. Looking around in wonder.

   “Camille, sweetheart,” Jim crossed and she hitched to breathe. Offered the baby to him. Desperate.

   “Take her. Take her away from me. I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not right. I can’t keep her safe from men in suits with red ties. I'll just hurt her too. I’m a bad mother. I’m not...I don’t feel...” Camille shook and Jim took the bundle. “I can’t look at her because I can’t do this. I’m awful. I’m a horrible mother. I’m sorry!”

   Skin paled and eyes huge, Camille crushed in on herself.

   Hands covered her face. Crossed legs lifting so she could curl up again there.

   “Camille...” Jim eased. Realized how unwell she’d been. Clearly not sleeping or eating in the short time they’d been home. “She’s okay, Camille. You’re doing okay.”

   “I’m not, I’m not. She’ll be like me and they’ll take her away. They’ll stage a car accident or fry our brains and she’ll be out there and all alone. I made her cry, I didn’t mean to.” She kept thinking about Rosemary and Noah brushing her aside. Lying to her. Keeping her in a cage.

   “That won’t happen, no matter what she becomes.” Jim faced her, cradling the tiny baby against him. “Deep breath.” He managed to fix her nightgown back up with a free hand. “Hey, look at her, it’s okay. She's safe.”

   Camille wiped her eyes and stared at the floor.

   “Has it been like this since you got home?” He frowned. “We...We didn’t-”

   “It just feels all wrong, Jim. I don’t understand.” That raw voice squeaked. He brought her against him with his arm. Holding Sara there too.

   “She’s healthy and beautiful. And she’s happy. You did that.” Jim offered. Camille’s fingers dug into his jacket. “You’re not well. I’ve seen this before with my own family. We’re going to get you some help, okay? You need help and that’s okay.”

   Camille only nodded. One shaken hand reached out to touch her daughter. Finger running the curve of her little chin.

   “When’s Billy getting home?”

   “Couple hours tops.” She sniffled.

   “I want you to go lie down.”

   “She hasn’t eaten.” Camille persisted, head lifting.

   “We’ll try again in a bit. I’m going to make you something to eat and I want you to just close your eyes. I’ll take care of the baby.” Jim stood, ushering her with him. “Get into bed.”

   “What about Billy?” Camille let Jim cover her. “He...He seemed...”

   “I’ll explain it to him. Just rest.” Jim settled Sara into her crib. Turned the mobile on. He made some plain toast and got Camille to sit up and each both pieces. Brushed crumbs off her face. Tucked her into a warm bed.

   Then, he called Joyce.

** ** **

   Billy came home with his arms full of bags. Stopped there at the scene. Joyce playing with Sara on the couch. Jim just walked out of the kitchen.

   “Where’s Camille?” He dropped the groceries aside. Jim put a slow hand on his shoulder.

   “I got her fed and to sleep. We managed to help her feed Sara after the first hour...” Jim sighed. “Billy, Camille’s...”

   “I don’t know what’s happening to her. She doesn’t want to be around Sara or I.”

   “What’s happening to Camille is common. Happens to mothers everywhere. She needs to go talk to someone about it.” Jim cocked his head and helped the new father put his items away while Joyce stayed on the couch. “Postpartum depression. You read about that?”

   “Some in the baby books. Not much.”

   “Camille is feeling very...”

   “Blue.” Billy’s eyes went distant. He sucked his cheeks in. Set his jaw to sigh. “I ignored it. I got mad at her for...”

   “It’s not either of your faults. It happens. Camille has to go talk to someone before she hurts herself. She needs support. It’ll be okay. I promise.” That somehow relaxed Billy. Jim always knew what to do. What to say.

   “I hope,” Billy began, “I can be a dad like you.”

   Hopper smiled at that. Beamed and hugged Billy to his chest. The new daddy paced to see his baby on the couch.

   “She behaving for you?”

   “That she is.” Joyce smiled. “We got her. Camille’s in the bedroom.”

   “Thanks.” Billy kissed Sara’s head and went in. Clicking the door open. Camille stirred. Head lifting when he got behind her. “Hey.”

   “Hi.” She stiffened up as he brought her to his chest. “Jim tell you?”

   “Yeah.” Billy’s chin settled upon her crown.

   “I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t apologize, we’ll get through it. You, Sara, and I. We’re a team. Little pack of wolves.” Billy kissed her head. Let her finally breath him in and cling as she turned to burrow into his chest. “You two are everything to me. Nothing else is as important as us.”

   “I love you. I love her. I do.”

   “I know you do. And we love you. We’ll get you help, Camille. It’s okay.” Billy cuddled her closer. Thought of Hopper. “I promise.”

** ** **

   Camille woke before Billy that next morning. Went to feed Sara. Jim and Joyce left after another long talk with Billy when Camille fell back asleep.

   “Okay, Sara, it’s just you and me. We can do this.” She adjusted and sat in the rocking chair. Cupped her breast to offer it. Pain stung a little but… “There we go. Good girl. Yes.”

   Camille felt herself smile this morning. Billy made an appoint for her. She would be taking the full maternity leave.

   Sara wiggled and burped up as Camille bounced her. Hummed Billy’s song to her and flicked the mobile around. Her husband hadn’t emerged yet so she went into the kitchen. Made a turkey and cheese sandwich. Sliced it diagonally and fell into the couch to watch some TV. Billy stumbled in and stood there with bed head. Beautiful beyond belief.

   “Morning.”

   “Morning.” Camille took half the sandwich and offered the plate to him. Billy brightened. Sat next to her. They shared the food in silence. Watched TV until she got under his arm. Rain padded against the windows. Sounded peaceful. “Do you think she’ll like surfing or ballet?”

   Eyes flickered over his wife as she engaged herself at last. With ease.

   “I think she’ll be into pro wrestling.” Billy smiled fuller. Camille let herself feel it, pushing at his chest before she laughed. Still a pretty sound. Inhaled the scent of him before he brought her hand up to kiss the tender skin of her wrist.

   “She’s gonna do whatever she wants to do, I think.” Camille said then, kissing up his jaw to find soft lips. “And we’ll be there to support her... We’ll always be there, won’t we?”

   “We will and that’s enough. I promise.” Billy tucked hair aside for a feverish kiss, nuzzled down into her neck to murmur. “You doing alright?”

   Camille saw his lashes flutter. Traced her fingers over the freckles and thought about how she couldn’t wait to see them bloom like fresh petals upon their daughter.

   “Today? Yeah. I think so. We’ve got each other.” She breathed, pressing lips into wild curls. They held each other while the rain fell lighter. Realized Billy was right. Echoed his call. “That’s enough.”

   Sara roused for her parents. Squirmed as Camille picked her up to bring her into the living room so they could gush and admire her. Neon hearts that glowed brighter by the hour. Her lullaby and sunrise all at once.

   “I love you both,” Billy nudged his head into Camille’s temple, “so much. You know that?”

   “You’re a magnificent father. We're lucky, Sara and I.” Camille’s lips pressed and the curves of her expression blurred. Billy blinked several times. A smile pressed. She let Sara giggle in her lap and held one finger with a strong, little hand. Babbling some until Camille was laughing to encourage it. “She’s all blush and tangerine today.” Not blue.

   “She’s beautiful,” Billy sighed there with so much contentment as Camille let herself relax. “And she’s just like her mother.”

   Hazel eyes lifted to see him. Amazed by this wonder of a life they created. A miracle. Like a specific star they’d plucked down to cherish and nurture.

   “She’ll be messy and also so kind. Good. Angry when she needs to be. She’ll cry and not be shamed for it. Our baby will be shown so much love, the world couldn’t hope to swallow her.” Camille smiled again. Softer by the hour as she gazed at Sara there. “The best parts of us. Our love. Into one gorgeous creature. She’s us, Billy.”

   That hit the new mother hard. Made her voice quiver.

   "She's us."

   Camille felt a glimmer of it then as she understood it all. That connection threading red cords around her heart. Casting out to anchor others so close. Billy saw it resonate and felt it too. Held them both on the sofa as they curled up like a family. Their own pack. Camille would teach Sara to howl at the moon and tear through forests. To endure and pull herself back to her feet at every stumble. To lead and love as hard as she could. Like she was meant to.

   Billy only glittered at her. Camille’s burst of vitality and hope. They had each other and they would get through whatever would follow the horizon.

   “And it’s enough,” he repeated in peace, “I promise.”

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billyhargroveedit #MINE #Camille Harper #writing #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction

[screensirenfic]

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 23

Paranoid was not a word anyone would use to describe me under normal circumstances.

I was vigilant, perceptive; maybe a little trigger happy, but never paranoid.  

But all through the night; I donned my tin foil hat to theorise from the dumb but reasonable, to the just plain batshit crazy on reasons why Billy hadn’t come last night, and why he’d hang up on me in such a hurry.

Maybe he was sick and suffering with some sort of fever that didn’t have him thinking straight?

It would explain the tiredness and the ill temper, but not why he’d get all dressed up to come out in the first place rather than just cancelling like a sane person.

He could’ve been abducted by aliens.

With all the shit I’d seen in Hawkins, aliens really weren’t that much of a stretch, and they say you can lose track of entire fucking weeks on the TV shows.

Still; this wasn’t Close Encounters Of A Third Kind, and I wasn’t quite ready to be carted off into the looney bin just yet.

The obvious one was cheating.

I mean; why else would Billy get all dressed up unless he was going to meet another girl.

It would explain why he didn’t want to talk to me on the phone.

Guilt did funny things to people, and I always got the feeling that Billy hardly ever felt guilty about anything.

Still; I didn’t want to believe it.

Me and Billy were happy.

We were happy and we loved each other and we were going to move to California together.

He wouldn’t do that to me; not when we already had our future laid out in front of us.

But it did little to settle that uneasy feeling in my stomach that told me something terrible had happened last night; something Billy might never tell me.

I could hear her through the thin cabin walls.

Quiet, muffled; almost drowned out by the murmur of Age Of Consent on her radio.

I gave her the tape only last week; a gift from me and Jonathan’s regular tape exchanges. This one was taped off the radio, but it was fair; just another opportunity to expand my “musical horizons”, as he said it.

It was good music to mope too; something El was making extensive use of judging by the soft sobbing rising over the quieter parts of the song.

My guess was there was trouble in paradise in the form; or really, more absence of a form of one Micheal Wheeler.

The boy was usually here before my dad’s coffee cooled in its jug; so his apparent tardiness told me something had gone wrong there.

Well; that, and the fact that the kid hadn’t stopped listening to depressing New Wave for the past hour.

Still; I could sympathise. Relationships were complicated, and boys were fucking idiots when it came to doing the right thing.

El should really just learn when to read them out about it; but she was fourteen, and I really couldn’t expect her to know that yet.

Instead; I took my own initiative and decided to show a little solidarity with my sister in suffering, emerging from my own fortress of solitude to make the trek across the cabin to her door.

“And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you

Just what you want me to”

The music was louder from here; practically blasting in an attempt to drown out the sounds of sorrow with something of more substance.

I lifted my fist up to the door, ready to respect the rules of boundaries and knock, but then changed my mind; deciding that boundaries were best observed outside the pitfalls of teenage romance.

Instead, I just pushed it open, revealing my apt hunch that El would be spread out on her carpet, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in the self-pity of British New Wave, whilst pondering where along the evolutionary scale did the male species become so absolutely clueless and infuriating.

I leaned against the doorframe; the smallest of bittersweet smiles peaking at the corners of my lips, because I could see a lot of myself in the kid.

The same surly look of despondence; the same stiff defensive posture, as if just waiting for the criticism over why she had no right to be so miserable.

Self-pity often turned to self-hate in the Hopper household, and that self-hate could quite quickly be reflected upon anything in the immediate vicinity; often leading to a series of intense arguments that could easily be avoided by some simple communication and a relinquishment of the emotional constipation we kept pent up on as a point of precedence.

Surprisingly; the kid was taking everything quite well, all things considered. No hoarse screams for me to get out of her room, or objects being thrown across the room as makeshift projectiles.

Instead, she just looked over at me; her teary eyes pleading, hopeful even, as if she was just waiting for me to offer some well needed words of comfort.

“Mike stood you up too?” I asked; already knowing the answer to the question long before I opened her bedroom door.

She just nodded; unable to hold back a pitiful sniff as she tried to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay.

“Boys are assholes.” I offered; knowing that the statement, no matter how true, did little to abet that gnawing feeling in her heart that something was wrong.

I gnawed my lip, trying to think up the right words to say; what I’d like to hear myself.

I was shit at this sympathy stuff; unable to even console her when I was probably having the exact same thoughts; the same self-doubts.

Instead; I offered her the only thing I truly knew that worked in times when you’d be willing to feel anything but present;

Distraction.

“Come on; let’s get out of here…” I said, pushing myself up from the doorframe and beckoning her out of the bedroom.

“Wait? What?!” Eleven replied; misery momentarily being replaced by confusion as she pushed herself up onto her feet, following me as I pulled on my leather jacket and snatched up my keys.

“We’re getting out of here.” I told her, already opening up the front door before she had a chance to argue.

It might not’ve been the healthiest solution; but my god, if it wasn’t effective.

“Wait! Where are we going?!” She called after me, pulling on her jacket and shoes as she followed my out onto the porch, trying to keep up as I quickly made my way over to my bike.

I didn’t answer, already mounting up and buckling on my helmet whilst a slightly concerned Eleven hopped on one foot, pulling on a worn Converse sneaker.

Once my helmet was secure, I snatched up my spare, chucking it at the kid so she had no choice but to catch it.

“You happy riding on the back?” I asked; putting my keys in the ignition as she stared at me slack jawed.

The kid had never been on a motorcycle before; had never been allowed, despite a clear desire to do so. Dad always thought it was too dangerous. He didn’t even like me riding one, so why would he let a fourteen year old on the back of one?!

Still, there was something pretty exhilarating about defying your parents; something that must’ve been universal judging by the bright smile that had begun to spread across El’s face.

The kid shoved on the helmet and pulled it tight, wasting no time to climb onto the back and cling to my leather jacket; the tight grip of her fingers a dead giveaway that she may have been a little bit nervous about the experience.

“You ready to go?” I asked her, noting how her fingers began to settle on my waist, mirroring how she’d seen her friends hold on on the many occasions I’d driven them home.

“Okay. Just take it eas-“

ROOAAARRR!

She didn’t get a chance to finish; me already kicking my bike into gear so it roared like a hungry beast.

The bike sped off at a hurtling speed; the kid’s fingers gripping vice-tight on the leather of my jacket, as if she feared she’d fall off at any minute.

Maybe I should’ve eased her into it. Started slower and got her used to speeding virtually unprotected through the woods, but sometimes the adrenaline rush was just what was needed.

I could feel the wind whipping against my face; the taste of summer ripe in the air; and for a moment, I felt the world slip away.

Everything was simpler like this.

Better; even.

Just me, my bike, and the open road ahead of me.

And I guess El now.

I could feel her grip loosening; arms relaxing into a light hold around my waist, head leaning against the back of my shoulder blades as she began to let her tension slip away.

You couldn’t always hold on to everything all the time.

Sometimes you just had to accept that you weren’t in control and let go and enjoy the ride.

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