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joansiefics · 6 months

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Bucky -

could you write something about Bucky's daughter getting in a car accident with friends and shes the only one that makes it and she calls bucky because she's scared and hurt...so bucky and steve come to the scene and helps/

Everyone makes mistakes:

DAD!BUCKY X DAUGHTER!READER

WARNINGS: Underaged drinking, car accident, death. Please let me know if I missed anything :)

A/N: Alright, so if you have seen my last post (like a year ago), I said that I will be solemnly posting stories on Wattpad. It went great, but kinda went downhill after a while - I became busy with school and when I had the time I just couldn't get myself to write something. But then like a week ago, I logged into my Tumblr account, and I missed the feeling of writing something down and being creative (because all I do now is study math and physics and that's not really being creative), so I thought why not start writing the requests that I never wrote?? So yeah, here is the first one in a while :)

MARVEL MASTERLIST || BUCKY MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are now OPEN

ADD yourself to my TAGLIST

I didn’t want to get into the car. I told them that like 20 times already, but do you expect drunk-out-of-their-mind people to listen to you - the “deadbeat” of the group, because you don’t like alcohol?

I used to like alcohol. LOVED it in fact. Until my dad had to come bail me out of jail, after a party had gone wrong. It wasn’t entirely my fault – I didn’t know the house wasn’t really the host’s house, but rather someone’s who was on vacation. The neighbors heard the music and yelling as our team won bear pong and called the police. When the police arrived, I was too drunk to register anything going on and some friends, my friends were – ran away without me and left me to be the only one to get arrested.

A few hours in jail can really help you sober up quickly, trying to gather your thoughts, because what are you going to tell your dad? Not even an hour later, my dad came to bail me out and I swore (while resting my head on the toilet seat and my dad holding my hair back) to never drink a sip of alcohol again if I could help it. Now I know most people say that, and the following night they’re at the new bar drinking like there’s no tomorrow – that wasn’t me: I declined the parties my “friends” invited me to and started spending more time with my dad – he is actually a really cool guy. This continued for a few weeks until my “friends” told me they didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, because I’ve changed. I have to say, I was truly happy with their decision.

I made new friends and was able to stick to my “no-drinking-promise” – but it became difficult because apparently you can’t have friends that don’t drink, leading to the predicament I find myself in at this very moment.

“Y/N will you just get in the freaking car?! We don’t have all night”.

“I’ve told you 20 times, now 21, I’m not getting into the car with you. You can’t even walk in a straight line!”

“Just GET IN!” My dad might be a super-soldier, but that doesn’t mean I inherited the strong gene, so it was rather easy for John (one of my friends) to man handle me into the back, squashing me against the left side window, as the rest of our friends piled in next to us. I prayed, I really prayed that I’d get home safe.

“Wouldn’t it be better if I drive? I know I only have my learners license, but you guys are accompanying me, so it’s not like I’m breaking the law. It’s better than all of us dying because you were drunk and driving”.

“I am fully capable of driving this car, Y/N” Melany said from the driver’s seat. I decided to shut my mouth and let her focus on the road, she didn’t need me and the alcohol distracting her.

“Turn up the music!!” Ethan yelled and everyone thought to cheer him on, as if he had said the coolest thing on earth.

“Don’t you think we should let Melany focus on the road, and maybe be quiet?” I suggested.

“Will you stop being such a deadbeat for once in your life, Y/N?” This time it was Sarah who spoke. She was the perfect student that everyone looked up to – perfect grades, happy family, rich parents, beach houses… you name it; but only we knew that it was all a façade – she studied day and night as an escape from her mom being permanently drunk and her dad permanently working. I guess that’s why her comment didn’t bother me as much as it should have, she is merely living out the life that was presented to her as an example.

“I’m sorry” I apologized.

We haven’t even been driving for more than five minutes, when Melany spoke again. “What is that bright light? It’s hurting my eyes, make it stop” she whined. Apparently drunk people are like insects attracted to light, because all my friends stared at the light in awe.

At first I wasn’t interested, I just rolled my eyes and stared out the window.

“Oh look, the light is moving towards us” Melany squealed, earning another eye roll from me, but I have to admit the curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see what was so fascinating about a stupid light.

I wish I never looked – with the looking came the honking of a truck’s horn – a signal to move out of the way. But have you ever Googled what happens when people drink too much? My dad made me Google it the night he came to bail me out of jail; he forced me to read all the bad things that could happen to you when drinking irresponsibly – slowed reflexes, no filter for words spewing out of your mouth and sometimes even alcohol poisoning.

Right now, not even a horn could quicken Melany’s reflexes. Before I could even think of a plan to get her to swerve out of the way, the truck collided with us. Head on. We were flipping. Rolling. Flipping. Rolling. And flipping some more. When we finally came to a stop, I couldn’t see for a few seconds – everything was dark and blurry. It probably took me a few minutes to come to a realization of what just occurred.

“Okay Y/N. What would dad do in this situation?” I didn’t know what he would do and even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to accomplish it. “Guys?” Silence. “Guys!” More silence. I didn’t like the silence – it made me hear my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. We were on a deserted road, little to no lampposts and no one ever driving down this road at this hour. I didn’t even know if the truck driver was alive, called the ambulance or just… drove away.

I slowly moved my arm, feeling pain shoot up into my shoulder, but I had to get a hold of my phone. Feeling my phone in my pocket, I just prayed it would still work. Slowly pulling it out, trying not to cause more pain to my shoulder, I saw the screen light up, and I could have cried tears of joy.

I didn’t want to call the police or the ambulance – I only wanted my dad. I pressed speed dial and not even 5 seconds later I heard my dad’s voice.

“Hey doll, where are you? I thought you would be home by eleven?”

“I-“ I didn’t know what to tell him. “I- uhm”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, you promised never to call me Y/N unless I was in trouble” I tried to joke, maybe let out a laugh to let him know that I was okay and not busy bleeding somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Of course he heard the airy laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear my heart beating like I could.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“In trouble?”

“Have a little faith in me dad. I told you I’m not going to drink, and I stuck to my promise” I rasped out.

I heard some laughing in the background. “I’m sorry, am I disrupting you?”

“No, not at all, doll. Steve just came to hang out for a bit. But stop changing the subject, if you’re not in trouble, why are you calling me when you should have been home already?” I probably had to speed up the conversation, because I could feel myself getting dizzy, there was something wet dripping down my shoulder and forehead and no one was making a noise – I just hoped they’d be alive.

“Well, you see… uhm”.

“Spit it out. Do I have to come bail you out again? Because I swear Y/N I will…”

“I need you to come get me” I tried to stop the wobble in my voice, but it was useless. “I promise dad… I told them I didn’t want to, but they forced me and they were drunk and – and they’re not waking up and - “ a big sob escaped my mouth and I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“What did they force you to do, Y/N?” I could hear the panic in my dad’s voice. I heard him call Steve and I heard Steve’s worried voice ask what was wrong.

“Y/N, you need to breathe and tell me where you are so we can come get you” I focused on my breathing, trying to get myself to keep calm and get as comfortable as possible. I tried wiping the wetness of my forehead, that kept bugging me, but I caught the sight of crimson smudged on my hand. Stupidly, I smacked the same hand over my mouth to stop the scream from pouring out, but my dad heard the muffled scream.

“Doll, breathe. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me”.

“I – there’s blood!” I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Y/N, answer me damnit! Where are you?”

“I don’t know” I was trying so hard to get air into my lungs. “We were driving back home from the party – “

“We… I… we’re on an abandoned road, there are almost no lampposts, there are no houses, there…” That’s all I know” I cried out, because how were they going to find me if I didn’t even know where I was.

Dad’s voice came from the other side. “We’ll search in the perimeters of the party’s address.”

“Please don’t hang up!”

“I’m going to hand the phone over to Steve, I have to focus on the road. Just keep talking to him, sweetheart.”

“We’ll be there soon, honey. Ten minutes, tops” Steve tried to ease my nerves.

I didn’t speak to any one of them after that, but it comforted me, knowing that they were there, just a call away and maybe just a few minutes away.

Eight minutes later, Steve said he was going to hang up and I cried and pleaded with him not to but got interrupted by the “end call” button. Before I could even think about cursing him out, or being mad at him and my dad, I heard my name being called.

“Here!” Was all I could seem to manage, but luckily they heard me. “Steve come help me get her out!” Soon Steve was forcing the door open and holding it as my dad, gently pulled me out of the wreck and into his chest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re alive.” My dad whispered in my ear, gently swaying me side-to-side. Sobs wracked my chest and the tears couldn’t stop flowing – my dad didn’t seem to care that his shirt was a mess of blood and tears.

“My – my friends”

My dad and Steve surreptitiously looked at each other until my dad nodded for Steve to get them out of the car. I think they knew something I didn’t, because when they were all safely outside the wreck, Steve had a confirmed look on his face as he searched for a pulse at each of them but didn’t find a single one.

“No! They’re fine, feel again!” I yelled at Steve. He wasn’t a doctor; he couldn’t call time of death.

“Y/N, doll, listen to me, Steve already checked – “

“ – Well he should check again! He’s wrong!”

To settle my mind, Steve searched for a pulse at each of them and once again turned to look at me with a sad smile.

“No. NO! No, no, no…” My “no’s” were getting quieter and my knees were getting weaker. “no, no…no” the last “no” came out chocked, and my dad caught me as my knees finally buckled and we sank to the floor. I couldn’t take the weight of their death. They were my friends, and even though they made some stupid decisions tonight, they didn’t deserve this. Everyone makes mistakes every once in a while. My dad ran his hand up and down my back, trying to ease some warmth and calmness into my skin and bones.

“Doll, I’m gently going to pick you up and take you to my car”.

“My shoulder. My friends” I kept seeming to forget my friends were dead.

“I’ll be careful of your shoulder. We’ll get it checked out and fixed at home. Right now, I just need you need to breathe with me. Focus on my breathing and everything will be sorted out. You don’t need to worry your head about anything right now, except breathing”

“My friends”

“We’ll get someone to come and get them. I promise”

My dad gently laid me down on the backseat of his car and a few moments later he got into the driver’s side and Steve got in next to me. Unfortunately, when my dad started the car, I was panicking. “No, I don’t want to be in a car. Please! Dad, don’t drive, I’m begging you!”

Steve gently scooted closer to me and enveloped me into a hug, I didn’t even realize we were driving, until we got home. Steve carried me out of the car as my dad ran ahead of us, opening the front door, grabbing blankets, and throwing them onto the couch. Steve gently put me down on the couch, but told me to keep sitting up, because they needed me to stay awake. Apparently, I can’t do that when I’m laying down.

My dad already called one of the doctors (while we were driving) from the infirmary to come check on me and do everything that he deemed necessary. My dad plopped himself down next to me, getting ready to keep me awake until the doctor gave orders that I could close my eyes.

After five minutes of the doctor’s presence, I decided that I didn’t like him. He kept telling me to “keep those eyes open” and “don’t fall asleep on me now”, while prodding at my injuries. Then he decided that pulling out the glass in my shoulder and stitching the wound up, was absolutely necessary and then he thought that shining the brightest light of all time in my eyes, would make me happy. My dad held my hand the entire time – gave it a squeeze when I winced or rubbed his thumb up and down when I squeezed my eyes shut due to the pain.

When the doctor finally left, my dad used a washcloth to wipe some sweat and dirt from me and handed me my pyjamas. He didn’t want to leave me alone for in case I felt dizzy (because the doctor said that’s what concussions can do), so he just turned around and kept his hand outstretched towards me, so I’d have something to grab onto if I felt like falling.

Afterwards, he helped me lay down under the covers and gently tucked me in as Steve brought me some biscuits, water and painkillers. It was difficult to fall asleep after everything that had happened tonight, but my dad reassured me that we’d take it day-by-day, one step at a time.

He would be there when I had to attend my friends’ funerals. He’d be there when I had to go for my check-up appointment at the doctor that wouldn’t let me sleep. And he’d be there when the terrible nightmares woke me up from my slumber.

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TAGLIST:

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus @yliumy

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #dad!bucky x daughter!reader #injuries #bucky x injured!reader #car accident #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader

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ivymarquis · 27 days

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WIP Wednesday

A bit of a character study/me skipping ahead/dynamic fun stuff etc?

This is so far down the line for the price x single!mom verse it's not even funny, but I wanted to write it out and see how I feel about it when we actually get to this point in the fic. John goes a wee bit off the fucking deep end :)

Y'all know the drill! No pressure, feel free to post a snippet of something you're working on.

“You won’t always be around, you know.” Michael has apparently decided he’s not partial to being above ground anymore.

The smoke from John’s cigar coils in him before he exhales slowly. Realistically he knows that Love is a sore spot for him and he’s willing to do anything for her, and yet he’s still caught off guard by the depth of the rage that washes over him in an all consuming fire.

“Would you like to clarify that for me?” Wouldn’t want to go flying off the handle after all if this is simply a misunderstanding.

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy who fucks off the second your phone rings. That clarify things for you? I don’t know what you or the blonde did to fuck with those results, but I know Sam is my fucking kid and I’ll be damned if you twats are going to get in my way.”

As Michael throws down his inane gauntlet, John exhales his now-final drag on the cigar, eyes flicking across his surroundings to gauge who is looking.

The man sure has a knack for picking the worst fucking spot to threaten the family of a man whose job is to work outside the constraints of red tape. They’re just secluded enough that Kate can see them if she looks but no one else can. And Kate certainly won’t give a fuck about what John’s about to do.

Without doubt, John knows that Michael expects to buffalo his way through this conversation and stalk off feeling he’s done something. Because the average citizen cannot do what John is about to- wouldn’t even consider it.

It’s the sheer confidence that John won’t put his hands on Michael that lets him snatch the other man up by his collar and shove him further out of sight from any prying eyes.

He opens his mouth to protest John’s grip on him, the perfect opportunity for him to shove the smoldering end of his cigar into the man’s mouth.

John has just enough impulse control to not extinguish the damn thing on the back of his throat, settling for the knowledge that the flurry of movement has knocked the ash loose into the other man’s throat.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page before we have this little talk,” John snarls. “I can be on the other side of the world and it doesn’t fucking matter, am I clear? If I catch wind of you sniffing around when you think I’m distracted, you’re going to find out exactly what I am capable of for a guy who fucks off the second his phone rings.”

John pulls out the cigar and shoves the other man away from him. “If we have to have this conversation again, I’ll be shoving the barrel of my service weapon in your mouth next and painting the fucking walls, understood? There will be a point where I decide you’re more hassle alive than dead.”

He’s not mollified in the slightest by the way Michael’s legs shake and he suddenly can’t look John in the eye- all the bravado sucked out of him with the realization that John is not beholden to the same rules he is.

“You’re fucking insane,” he sputters, hunching over and trying to cough up the ash.

“If you’ve got any sense to you, you’ll stay off my shit list.” John advises before tossing the remains of the cigar in the bin.

“Now if you’ll excuse me- I’m taking the missus and the rugrat out for lunch.”

@direwombat @gaqalesqua @strangefable @glossysoap @kneelingshadowsalome @deadbranch @bunnyreaper @mortuarywriting @391780 @divine--serenity @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @luminousbeings-crudematter @ceilidho

#wip wednesday #single!mom #single!mom verse #john price x reader #one day imma make a note of my mutuals and make an actual list rather than just tagging off the top of my head lmao #IF WE ARE MOOTS AND YOU WANNA DO THE THING THIS IS ALSO YOUR TAG <3

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cecilysass · 30 days

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Shine On (5/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 5: Lady of Sorrows

Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital Arlington, Virginia February 22, 2015

She’s preparing for a conference call that starts in twenty minutes when she hears the buzz of her phone. When she sees his name, she presses her eyes shut and ignores it.

She knows he’ll call back, and of course he does.

What do you want, Mulder? she texts him in frustration.

He responds right away, which surprises her. He has fewer reasons to use his phone than she does, so he is sometimes still a little baffled by texts. Which is one reason she sends them when she wants to put him off.

We need to talk. It’s important.

She shakes her head with huffy disbelief. Puts down her phone. Takes a drink of her coffee. Picks up her phone again.

I don’t think that’s a very good idea.

His response once again comes fast.

It’s important.

There’s still so much for her to do before this conference call. She wanted to go through yesterday’s results again and make more annotations. She wanted to crosscheck with the Amsterdam study. She doesn’t have time for this.

Fine. I’ll call you this afternoon.

There. Done. She should get back to work now, but instead she stares at the phone, waiting for his response.

Needs to be in person. Can you come to the house?

He has so much nerve. As much arrogance as ever, expecting her to be at his beck and call. She can feel her jaw clenching.

I’m busy, Mulder. I’m at work.

Sorry, it’s Sunday, didn’t realize.

Why do we need to talk?

The three dots appear, then disappear. He seems to be grappling with an answer.

After a moment, she adds: If this is about apologizing - not necessary.

The three dots pop up again on her screen.

Not an apology. Not about the other day. Something else. Important.

He adds a second message: Can I come to you? This afternoon?

She lets out a long, extended exhale, putting her head in her hands. After the conference call, she had been hoping to go home and enjoy a relaxing Sunday afternoon. Maybe go to yoga. Maybe take a bath. Seeing Mulder would almost certainly mean more emotional upheaval. The very opposite of the relaxation she needs.

But she’s always had such a hard time saying no to him.

Meet me at 3 at the cafe across from the hospital.

There’s a pause before he responds.

Okay. At 3.

Scully shoves the phone out of her sight, turning her attention back to her laptop. There’s still enough time to get ready. Her mind reviews her to-do list. Annotations, crosscheck with Amsterdam study, and then a quick overview of all of her notes.

But now her mind is distracted, wondering what Mulder wants.

Staring at the spreadsheet in front of her, full of all of the data she should be going through, she thinks a dangerous thought—one that will almost certainly come back to betray her.

Maybe he wants to give her a birthday present. Maybe he wants to do something nice for her birthday.

It’s so stupid of her. So adolescent. So ridiculous to even consider. It will only disappoint her later. Why would he do that? They’re not together anymore. And she knows he’s still struggling with their break-up, and she knows she should help give him space, so that he can recover and get better, get healthy. Even the idea is selfish.

She just can’t help but to imagine that kind of pleasant surprise. Like the old days. Maybe he has a present. A book, chosen just for her. A little bracelet, something exactly her tastes. A card he’s written tenderly for her.

The fantasy is irresistible because no one on earth has ever known her mind, known her heart, known her body like Mulder has. Being known to your core like that is a heady feeling, utterly addictive. She will never, ever stop wanting to experience it again.

She doubts she will. She can’t imagine any of the smarmy visiting surgeons who ask her out ever really knowing her like that.

Another idea pops into her mind, an even more foolish idea that reaches even further into her past.

Maybe he’s coming to her with a good old-fashioned slide show. With some bizarre monster to hunt, a spooky lead to track down, a haunted mystery to solve. Maybe he’s going to try to convince her to come with him on some wild goose chase.

That idea shouldn’t thrill her, it really shouldn’t, but it does. She longs for it in places she typically represses.

To be in some rental car with him, side by side, headed out to face grim small towns and sticky-table top diners and buzzing-sign motels. Her and him against the world. Partners against the darkness, ever and always.

She laughs softly, bitterly at herself. Jesus, she knows so much better than this.

These Mulders she’s longing for—the Mulder who remembers her birthday and painstakingly selects the perfect gift, the Mulder who gets caught up in the excitement of a case and coaxes his partner to be at his side—those versions of Mulder don’t exist any more.

Those versions of Mulder haven’t existed for a while, and that’s exactly why she had to leave.

She looks away from her laptop, massaging her forehead with a single fingertip, and takes another big drink of her coffee. Just take a break for five minutes, she tells herself. Get yourself together.

Her eyes drift back to her phone. She brushes past Mulder’s last message, and goes to scroll through the day’s headlines for the distraction.

Politics, entertainment, local news: she swipes through quickly. The phone offers so much convenience, but it brings something frenetic into her life, too. She sometimes misses the simple, tangible delight of having her hands on a paper Washington Post. Maybe she’ll pick one up today to read in the bathtub, if seeing Mulder doesn’t throw her too much for a loop.

There’s a national news story that catches her attention because of the words “Eighth grader” in the headline. This year, Scully’s attention is grabbed by anything mentioning eighth graders. Last year, it was seventh graders. Next year, it will be ninth graders, which makes her heart ache. High school. So old. He’s very possibly taller than her now.

This particular headline is rather upsetting: “Wyoming Eighth Grader Who Allegedly Shot Parents Still At Large.” Scully clicks on it and looks at the accompanying picture, a smiling school photo of a sweet-faced brown-haired boy who doesn’t look at all like a killer, which she knows from experience means exactly nothing. She decides not to read the story. Stories about killer eighth grade boys will upset her, and there’s no cause to upset herself.

The detour into the news is enough of a reset, though, for her to stop thinking about Mulder.

She turns back to the spreadsheet, her focus back. Only twelve minutes left now until her call. Scully lets herself shut the doors to everything but work.

***

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 22, 2015

“You ready?” Mulder says. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, peering out the open passenger door with a too-bright smile.

Jackson climbs reluctantly in, reaching for his seatbelt. “I look stupid.”

“Not true.” Mulder says encouragingly. “You look like a kid who is being smart about not being recognized.”

News stories with Jackson’s photo have been making the rounds on the cable news stations, so Mulder has decided they can’t take risks. It seems like a long shot that someone would identify him on the roads of rural Virginia, but Jackson supposes it’s better safe than sorry.

So he’s wearing a worn old Yankees cap and a pair of dated oversized sunglasses. In Jackson’s opinion, the sunglasses make him more obvious, because no one under forty would ever wear sunglasses like that if they were not trying to disguise their identity.

The clothes he’d been wearing before were getting a little overripe, so Mulder has also made him borrow a pair of jeans and a black sweater. Like the sunglasses, they are really old—“vintage,” jokes Mulder—-and apparently from when he was a smaller size. But they’re still way too big for Jackson, who is skinnier and shorter. They hang off of him, even with the cuffs of the jeans rolled up and the sleeves of the sweater pushed back.

He looks like a kid playing dress up. Mulder is trying not to look at him. I hope he didn’t hear me think that. Jackson sighs a long, loud drawn-out sigh to let the man know he did.

They’ve now spent a full day together, him and Mulder, waiting for the DNA results to come back. It’s gone okay. Strange, but okay.

Yesterday morning, Mulder made him swab his mouth and drove the sample to drop off with some friend in the FBI. While Mulder was gone, Jackson snooped around, picking up every framed picture, opening drawers and cupboards. He didn’t find anything too interesting, except for a lot of evidence that Mulder didn’t clean up much.

By the time Mulder had returned, Jackson had decided to try to put all those piles of books back on his shelves, attempting to organize them by section. Mulder watched him in fascination for a moment and then joined in. It took them three hours to finish that project, mostly because Mulder kept going on tangents to tell him things about different books.

This book, which describes a fascinating incident with a wendigo, helped me solve a case once… I bought this paperback from a professional shaman in Brooklyn in 1989… This is a theoretical physics text about the practicalities of space travel Scully bought me as a joke.

Jackson didn’t hate it. Mulder was funny, mostly. And smart. He was definitely really smart. But he was intense, too, so eager to show Jackson things, so eager to impress him. Jackson’s shine wearied after a while.

That evening, they tried to watch TV, but turned it off when they saw a snippet of a news story with Jackson’s face. After that, they played chess. Mulder pointed out that telepaths had an unfair advantage in chess, but Jackson promised not to use it, and he really didn’t. Mulder won.

This morning, Mulder got the call about the DNA test, and while he didn’t say it in so many words, Jackson didn’t even need his shine to read the result from the man’s glowing face: it’s a match. You’re the daddy, like the talk shows say. Mulder obviously considers this great news.

Which means, of course, that it’s time to meet the other half of Jackson’s genetic equation.

“Okay,” Jackson mutters, clicking his seatbelt in place. “You said we’re going to a Starbucks or something?”

Mulder starts the engine. “We’re supposed to meet her at a cafe,” he says, maneuvering the car up the drive. “I’m not sure I like having you in public right now though, even master of disguise that you are. So we’ll convince her to talk elsewhere.”

“Hmm,” nods Jackson, the hat slipping over his face a little. He pushes it back. He feels Mulder stealing looks at him, and he wonders if Mulder has any idea how anxious he feels about meeting Scully. He makes a point of looking out the window, trying to make things seem more casual. “You know I could appear as someone else, right? If you want me to.”

“That might be useful,” Mulder says. “But I want Scully to see you as you are. Don’t you?”

Jackson doesn’t answer, keeping his gaze out the window. “On our way, are we going to drive by anywhere interesting? Like the White House or the Washington Monument?”

“Unfortunately, today we’re not leaving Virginia,” Mulder says. “But I promise, not too long from now I’ll take you to D.C. and show you the sights.”

Jackson lowers his stupid sunglasses and gives him a dubious look.

“What? I will.” Mulder protests. “Wait, hold on.” Mulder puts the car in park and hops out to open the gate. Jackson’s eyes follow him closely over the top of the sunglasses as he unlatches the gate and then slides back in.

“A lot of security,” comments Jackson. It seems like a pain in the ass to open and close the gate every time you leave. He wonders how often Mulder does leave. “This is because of those people you and Scully worked with?”

“More or less, yeah,” agrees Mulder, steering the car through the gate, then putting it in park again with a little jerk. He scrambles to hop out again, jogging back to close and latch the gate up.

At least, Jackson thinks, he didn’t grow up having to worry about all of this. He can’t imagine doing this all the time. Although, he thinks with a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, maybe he should have. Maybe if he and his parents had done all this, they would still be alive.

Mulder slides back in the car again. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson manages.

Mulder nods without expression and drives the car onto the road. “Want to turn on some music?”

“That’s okay.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

Jackson smirks. “Do you really think you’ll have heard of it?”

“That depends,” Mulder says. “If you say you like Prince, or the Stones, or the Clash, then sure.”

“I like those,” Jackson says coolly. “I’m really into Bring Me the Horizon and Fall Out Boy?”

“Nope.”

Jackson gives him a withering “I told you so” look. He turns to face the front windshield, thinking about his mom singing along to When Doves Cry as she unloaded the dishwasher.

“What kind of music does Scully like?” he wonders.

“Oh,” Mulder sounds surprised. “Well, when she was young, she went through a rebellious phase. She liked punk, New Wave. All the music that would annoy her parents.”

“She didn’t get along with her parents?”

“No,” Mulder says. “She did, actually. She still does — her mom is still around. It was just teenage identity stuff. You know how it goes.”

Jackson nods seriously, making note of the existence of a living biological grandparent.

“Now, I think she still likes all that eighties music from when she was young,” Mulder says. “And sixties and seventies hits, too. She listens to that whenever she’s working out or doing something high energy. But she also likes classical music. She listens to a lot of classical music.”

“Is she, like, good at music? Does she sing or play an instrument?” Jackson and Louis had been talking about starting a band, and Jackson had been trying to learn guitar.

“No,” Mulder says. “Not really.” He smiles apologetically. “She’s really, really good at all kinds of other shit though, Jackson. Like being a scientist and a doctor and an F.B.I. agent.”

“She’s pretty, too,” comments Jackson.

“You can read my thoughts, so I assume you know how I feel about that,” Mulder says dryly. “I’m trying not to feel weird about it.”

“I don’t read every thought,” Jackson replies defensively. “I’ve been doing this my whole life, so I have a good idea when I am about to see something permanently damaging.”

Mulder laughs, but looks at him curiously. “What about at school, though? Teachers? Other kids? Girls—or guys—you might have a crush on? It must be tempting, huh?”

Jackson tries to think about how to explain it. “It’s not as tempting as you would think. It’s usually more trouble than it’s worth. You find out things you wish you didn’t. You see people think things about you that make you feel embarrassed or upset. You know information that’s hard to pretend you don’t know, and sometimes you mess up. I mostly don’t want to use my shine, if I can avoid it.”

“Your shine?”

“Oh yeah.” Jackson reddens. He’s only used the word with one other person before. “That’s what I call it. I call it ‘using my shine.’ I guess I mean like a light?”

“Okay,” Mulder says, nodding. “Interesting. Like the psychic boy in Stephen King? The Shining?”

Jackson frowns. “I haven’t seen it. Is there a shine in that?”

He doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. Jackson's mind tunes into Mulder’s thoughts like a radio. Don’t tell him. Too disturbing.

Instead, Mulder throws him a playful look. “Or like ‘Shine on, you crazy diamond.’ That’s an old Pink Floyd song.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Jackson says with a little tolerant nod. “But … yeah. It can make me feel weird to use it for no good reason. I mean, I’m not saying I have never tried to see answers inside a teacher’s head or anything like that. But mostly I just want to feel normal talking to other people. You know?”

“You do seem to be able to control your shine considerably better than other people I’ve known with this kind of ability,” Mulder comments. “It’s the kind of thing I would have been really interested in, back when I worked on the X-files.”

“You’ve known other people with this ability?”

“Oh yeah,” Mulder says. “Several people. I even… well, I don’t want to get into it all now. But I can talk to you about this in detail whenever you want to.”

Jackson is quiet. “I wish when I was little I knew that there were other people with these abilities. It would have been easier. Made me feel better.”

“I’m sure,” Mulder says quietly. “I wish I could have told you.”

There is a heavy pause.

“I go to therapy for anxiety and depression,” Jackson tells him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “What about you?”

“No,” Mulder says. He gives him a strange look. “But maybe I should?”

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, thinking of several details he’s observed. “Maybe you should.”

“You’re in a position to see, I guess,” Mulder muses. He's silent for a beat.

“I read an article about how sometimes a baby, when they’re still in their mom’s womb, can sort of soak up her stress and trauma and then grow up to have problems with anxiety,” Jackson says. “Do you think something like that might have happened to me?”

“You read an article like that?” Mulder asks, scowling. “Why?”

“That’s the kind of article kids with closed adoptions read,” Jackson says, lowering the sunglasses again, an edge of dark humor. “If you're a big nerd like me, anyway. You sort of wonder about everything.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows. Then he seems to consider Jackson’s question.

“I mean, it’s possible,” Mulder says heavily. “It’s possible something like that happened to you when you were in utero. It’s also possible you have anxiety and depression because, each year since 2000, the number of children and teens diagnosed with anxiety and depression has gone up, and you’re just one of those kids.”

Jackson makes an impressed face. “You just happened to know that?”

“Scully read an article about it,” Mulder says. “The kind of article birth mothers with closed adoptions of kids born after 2000 read. If they’re big nerds like Scully, anyway.” He pauses. “It’s also possible you have anxiety and depression for any other number of reasons that have nothing to do with any of that. Like having these abilities you have to hide and deal with, for one.”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson.

“Hey, do me a favor, and please don’t mention reading your ‘anxiety forming in utero’ article to Scully. Okay? Never.”

Jackson’s brow furrows. Not having met Scully, it’s an easy promise to make. “Yeah, okay.” He looks over at Mulder. “Is that something that would bother her?”

Mulder nods emphatically. “Let me put it like this. You know how some families like to have Scrabble competitions? Or fantasy football? In this family we like to compete in feeling guilty for how we’ve hurt people we love.”

“Oh good,” Jackson deadpans. “I’ve been training for that.”

Mulder chuckles bitterly. “You really don’t understand your competition.”

Jackson hadn't even been aware his shine was active, but suddenly he's overcome: a painful onslaught of incoming information. There’s a rapid-fire series of images from Mulder’s mind, so fast Jackson feels his head thump back dramatically against the headrest, closing his eyes. He gasps loud enough that Mulder looks over.

“Whoa, whoa. You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says breathily, opening his eyes. “I just…” He feels like he got kicked.

“Feeling dizzy?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Did you drink water today?”

“It wasn’t dehydration," Jackson murmurs.

Mulder’s face changes. Jackson sees that he has realized.

“Oh,” he says. "It was me, wasn't it?" A pause. “God, Jackson, I’m sorry about that.”

“Not really your fault.”

“You… what did you see?”

Jackson scrunches up his eyes to try to remember each detail. “I didn’t understand much of it,” he says. “There was a little girl, brown braids, bright light?” He looks over at Mulder, and Mulder nods tightly. “All these different people crying because they’ve lost someone, mostly people I don’t know. But Scully lots of times. Scully crying again and again and again.” Mulder presses his lips together tightly. “A baby crying in a crib. Me?”

“Yep,” Mulder says. “You.”

“You feel guilty about me?”

“Yep,” Mulder says. He doesn’t add any more detail.

Jackson takes that information in. He’s tempted to use his shine again, to add some context and see why, exactly, but again it seems a little too much for him to cope with. Better to take all of this information in in tiny bite-sized chunks.

He thinks of something else he’s kind of been wanting to ask instead.

“Am I the only kid you guys ever had? Or did you have others?”

“Just you,” Mulder says, his voice melancholy now. “You weren’t supposed to be possible. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant at all. We thought you were a miracle.”

Jackson chews on that thought, staring out the window at the passing late winter Virginia landscape.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp

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robinsvoid · 2 years

Note

please do a blurb about robin and readers boobs!! i feel like she’s a boob gf

‧₊˚✩ robin the boob gf!

p. robin buckley x fem!reader

content warnings. MDNI! (18+), fluff, smut; boob fixation, mentions of oral sex, fingering. [ also not proofread *thumbs up* ]

note. think i got a little carried away looool

oh, robin is most definitely a boob gf. she always has her eyes on your breasts even when she told herself countless of times to look away. it’s just so fucking distracting. her cheeks get darker when her gaze accidentally falls down to your breasts while you talk, even more so when you’re not wearing a bra. “eyes up, robbie.” you always say, smirking at her. and she blinks, following your orders like a puppy, then after a few moments, her eyes are on them once again. she can’t help it. it has her speechless and she practically malfunctions. like her fast brain stops working for as long as she stares. she can no longer speak in full sentences without stuttering. she tries hard to remain composed, but she’s not exactly good at hiding it either; her jaw slacks, her eyes linger as long as she wanted until you get her focus back up again, and steve doesn’t even fail to notice whenever he’s around and endlessly makes fun of her for it. but she doesn’t care.

“can i touch you?” was always a frequent question she would ask whenever the two of you were alone. robin absolutely loves it when you come close, sometimes when you’re studying together, when you’re leaning over her to see her paper and the curve of your tits just squishes up against her arm, because they’re so soft and warm; she just freezes and she can’t even think straight anymore. one of her favorite positions is when she’s sitting down while you stand between her legs with her arms around you, holding you close and presses her face directly in the valley of your breasts. she especially loves it when she hugs you from behind, spooning you, or when your sitting in her lap, so she has easy access to your boobs, hands fondling with them as she presses soft kisses to the back or side of your neck or behind your ear. and after a long hard day, robin becomes the happiest girl in the world when she can rest her head on your plush chest, nuzzling her nose into you, shoving her face against your shirt, always cupping your tits with her large hands until she falls asleep. she squeezes, not too gently but not too hard either, just right.

and if she’s feeling needy, and she gets very needy, she’ll squeeze them with more pressure, rolling her fingertips over your hardened nipple to elicit the most delicious moan from you. “ugh, baby–i can’t— please, i need to touch you…” and you never deny her. sometimes, your boobs would get sore from how long she had been playing with them. and please let her suck on them. poor baby is practically drooling every time she sees them. she’s eager to shove them in her mouth, leaving hickeys all over, just for her to see. and whenever she goes down on you, or has her long fingers deep inside of you, she always stares. her eyes are practically on your chest most of the time during sex. robin never misses a chance to tell you how beautiful you look, watching your tits bounce and jiggle as you jerk and twitch against the bed. she just ogles at them, distracted every single fucking time, no matter where you two were. ˚⁎⁺˳ .

✦ navigation ! © ROBINSVOID

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allfortzu · 10 months

Text

everything, everywhere

-- sana / tzuyu. 2.36k, fluff // MEN DNI.

sana and tzuyu find their way. in every universe, in every life.

one cool night of mid-april spring, sana lays a cheek on her palm and watches tzuyu work.

they're meant to be studying for their final exams, but sana is easily distracted, and the thought of something final makes sana a little sentimental.

quiet nights have always been this way – of her and tzuyu working at the only table in their dorm, because the other was dismantled and turned into a temporary makeshift enclosure for two dogs tzuyu impulsively fostered.

tzuyu promised not to get attached, but now the dogs have names and sana is in charge of feeding them every wednesday morning.

kaya and butter yip happily from behind what was once tzuyu’s table top.

sana sighs melancholically, her entire body slumping.

life is good now, but for how long more?

"can i ask you a question?"

tzuyu glances up from her notes. “what’s wrong?”

“will you go back to taiwan after graduation?” sana asks.

tzuyu doesn’t say anything immediately – it’s not like she enjoys entertaining the thought of it either.

“maybe. you?”

sana shrugs. “i don’t know. i think i might miss all of this too much.”

tzuyu tilts her head sideways. “all of this?”

their dorm was standard at best. small, quaint, and unassuming. there really wasn’t much to lose. honestly, life would be much more comfortable if they were back home with their families.

“yeah, like kaya and butter,” sana says.

then, after what might’ve been a moment of hesitation: “and you.”

it comes as a surprise; not because tzuyu didn’t think she took up that big of a part in sana’s life, but rather she had never even thought about the possibility of not being in sana’s life at all.

tzuyu wants to console sana with solutions, but sana’s right.

after this, they wouldn’t need to live in a dorm together anymore, and if not both, one of them would leave korea completely. sana to japan, tzuyu to taiwan. perhaps they could visit each other, but they both knew that was wishful thinking.

it would only be natural to move on.

this time, tzuyu sighs. “i’d miss you, too.”

she’ll miss the routine they’ve found themselves falling into after three years of rooming, she’ll miss the miso soup sana makes for her birthday, because seaweed soup was always too hard to make without a kitchen. she’ll miss sana in her bed, clutched on tight during rainy nights when the thunder was too loud for comfort.

ah, i haven't even confessed to her yet.

sana doesn’t say anything. it’s as if this truly is the end, and they’re both trying to imagine a life without one another.

or trying to imagine a life where everything works out; where sana has tzuyu, and tzuyu has sana.

“do you think we’re best friends in every universe?” sana asks.

another universe, one where we never stop being best friends.

in this universe, sana and tzuyu are best friends.

at the end of the year, they’ll graduate, and what lies ahead is uncertainty.

in another universe, sana and tzuyu are older, but they don’t know each other yet.

tzuyu is a barista, and sana has recently moved into the area.

it's the coffee shop closest to her apartment, and also the only one that offers free pup cups with every order of a drink. perfect for sana and her shiba inu.

the cafe door swings open with a gentle ding, and sana peeks her head in.

"good morning," a girl behind the counter greets, waving an arm.

she's tall, pretty, and has caramel brown hair. there's no one else in the cafe yet, but maybe because it's just opened.

"hi!" sana waves back, dog leash still in hand. "i heard dogs are allowed?"

the barista's face lits up fully, and she leans over the countertop to get a better view. sana's shiba inu peeks a snout in as well, and the barista squeaks.

"yes! dogs are welcomed!" she chirps, quickly rounding from her spot to join sana at the entrance.

"baby!" she says and squats down. "are they a she or he!"

the enthusiasm and eagerness is so contagious, sana really can't help but grin, both with pride and plain endearment. "a she. her name is pomu!"

"awww, pomu!" the barista coos, patting pomu lightly in between her ears. pomu wags her tail happily, tilting her head upwards for more scratches.

sana giggles at the scene, and she doesn't mean to, but it snaps the barrista out of her one-track-dog-lover-mind momentarily.

"ah," she says sheepishly, rubbing at her neck. "sorry, i didn't introduce myself."

maybe this barista isn't as well-versed with humans than with dogs.

"my name is tzuyu," she continues, suddenly awkward. what an adorable name. "you have a really cute dog."

sana has never let a little awkwardness get in the way of a pretty girl, though.

"thank you, you're cute too!" sana giggles. "i'm sana, i'm new around here."

the casual comment makes tzuyu laugh shyly, a light pink tinting her cheeks in a way sana loves. "always nice to see a new face." then, glancing at pomu. "and a new dog."

she leads sana back to the counter after, returning to her place behind it. "what can i get for you today?"

sana scans the menu, and besides the usual americano or expresso, she doesn't really know what anything else is. "do you have anything sweet?"

tzuyu muses, tilting her head slightly. "not yet, but i've been experimenting on a new strawberry rose latte."

sana's ears perk up at the mention of strawberries and roses. "what's a latte?"

"it's just coffee and milk. not very strong, i think you'd like it." tzuyu smiles. "and if you're up for it, you can try the strawberry rose one. free of charge, of course."

"trying it on a test subject before you debut it?" sana jokes.

tzuyu shrugs, playing along. "think of it as… a pre-release trial?"

"hm," sana hums. "when you put it that way, how could i turn it down?"

tzuyu grins. "one strawberry rose latte, for the lady with the cute dog. and a pup cup!"

"way to make a girl feel special," sana chides playfully, huffing. tzuyu simply chuckles at the jab.

and so it goes.

sana is the first to try tzuyu's new strawberry rose latte, and the first at tzuyu's coffee shop every morning after.

tzuyu names it the pomu special, and it's a limited edition feature for her valentines day menu.

sana gets unlimited access to it, though. of course she does.

tzuyu finds that she does play favourites when it comes to customers, but doesn't care because it's sana.

sana tries all of tzuyu's drinks, "pre-released", as tzuyu puts it, and their future is full of new beginnings.

they'll be best friends, soon enough.

maybe more.

in another, sana and tzuyu have known each other for years, but no one can know.

"i've missed you," sana murmurs, wrapping her arms around tzuyu's neck to pull her close.

she just wants to hug the person she's been wanting to hug all day, but tzuyu stands stiff, back taut and tilting her chin away from sana. "sana, not now."

"but we're in private now," sana pouts.

nonetheless, even if she hates it, she still unravels her arms and slides her hands reluctantly off. she doesn't let go completely, though, catching the lapels of tzuyu's blazer between her thumb and fingers.

tzuyu sighs, covering sana's hands with her own, touch as loving as always, but there’s still a certain hesitancy. "i have to check the room first – give me a second?"

in this world, sana is the only daughter of the famed minatozaki clan, and tzuyu the first-in-line for the inheritance of the chou group.

if anyone knew they were together, snuck away from one of many business galas, it would be the end of their family's reputations as a whole.

"one kiss?" sana pleads, brows knit and eyes round, looking up at tzuyu innocently.

"we’ll check first, then a kiss," tzuyu says sternly, but the gentle finger she rubs in between sana's frown is anything but.

sana huffs, but ultimately relents. "one check."

tzuyu smiles, nodding; an action that's come to be a staple in a relationship. tzuyu accompanies it with a subtle scrunch of her nose, eyes curving slightly, and it's enough to tell sana that she's thinking of her when they can't tell each other in public.

not that tzuyu isn't always thinking about sana, but when she does that, it means she's thinking of her.

thinking of kissing her, thinking of doing all the things sana wants to do.

thinking of sana, truly, in the sense of a lover thinking of her muse.

and a sweep tzuyu does, quick but thorough. until she's satisfied that they're safe, and she lets herself let go completely, giving a patient sana the permission to jump into her arms finally.

tzuyu embraces sana fully, wholly, all their love encompassed into a single moment – one where they are completely each other's and nothing else.

"i missed you," sana says again, but this time softer, voice muffled in the crook of tzuyu's neck as her shoulders rise with her tightened hold.

they're familiar words, said almost everyday. some might say it takes away from the significance, but sana has never cared about significance – what mattered besides missing tzuyu's touch every second of the day and telling her as it is?

tzuyu squeezes back, places a gentle kiss on the crown of sana's head. "kisses?"

"please." sana tilts her chin up, lets her eyes flutter close.

dutifully, tzuyu plants another kiss on sana's lips, a proper kiss.

the weight of the world is lifted off their shoulders, and then it's just them; sana and tzuyu, tzuyu and sana.

sana tugs at tzuyu’s blazer until it’s finally slipped off, hands roaming eagerly and freely, savouring the few moments they have away from prying eyes. tzuyu presses closer in earnest, palm on the small of her back, gentle.

she hums into sana’s lips, a soft purr that sounds from the back of her throat and comes out in contented waves, flowing right into sana.

it’s so unlike tzuyu as she is in public, but so completely like the tzuyu sana knows behind doors.

i hope we exist in another life – one without all the stupid things in this one.

their lips part for a moment, but sana finds tzuyu again.

no titles, no fleeting touches.

tzuyu lets herself enjoy the comfort of sana in her arms, of her in sana's arms.

no pretending we’re not everything more than that.

in this universe, sana and tzuyu have all of each other, even if they’re the only ones who know.

somewhere else, sana and tzuyu lay in bed, foreheads pressed against each other.

they speak in hushed tones, legs tangled up beneath the sheets, sharing the warmth.

tzuyu says something, rubs her nose on sana's, and sana giggles. it probably isn't anything funny, but sana's always giddy around tzuyu.

tzuyu laughs too, and soon enough all they're doing is snickering at nothing.

"i want to get a dog," tzuyu says, tinges of laughter still laced between her words. "or two. can we?"

"does that mean i get co-parenting rights?"

"yeah," tzuyu smiles. "i'll even let you name one."

sana quriks a brow. "i bet you've already got two names in mind."

"but they're our dogs, i'm trying not to be greedy."

sana laughs at that, shoulders shaking lightly. "you're allowed to be greedy, love," she says, poking tzuyu's dimple when tzuyu starts grinning. "tell me the names?"

"i'm thinking kaya and butter," tzuyu says.

"i think those names are perfect," sana muses, tucking a stray strand of tzuyu's hair behind her ears and kissing the tip of her nose for good measure.

"like you," tzuyu giggles.

sana laughs again, how terribly corny.

though, ever so tzuyu.

they've been together for longer than either can remember, but somehow still as infatuated as the first time they met.

"can i ask you another thing?" tzuyu whispers, eyes bright.

"yeah?" sana says, finally letting the last bit of laughter out of her system.

"i want to marry you."

there's no hesitancy when it's said, no fear.

not even a question, really, just a statement of fact.

it's sudden, but not too sudden at all. it's not like they haven't known the answer to these questions for years now.

sana smiles.

"let's get married, then."

it's easy, effortless.

"and get two dogs," tzuyu adds, pecking sana on the lips.

sana grins. "and get two dogs."

they've always worked it out.

truly, there's nowhere else they'd rather be.

looking back, sana had asked: "do you think we're best friends in every universe?"

"probably not," tzuyu answers.

sana pouts. "you really think that?"

tzuyu looks away when she says the next words; pretends they mean less to her than they really do.

"i don't know. maybe we're something other than best friends?" maybe she's hoping. "maybe… maybe we don't know each other yet…"

maybe we'd be lovers.

"maybe everything works out in those universes," sana muses. "it's fun to think about. us in another universe, hm?"

it is.

if we're happy in another universe, let's be happy in this one too, sana.

"how about we find a place together after graduation?" tzuyu says. "i don't think i'm ready to go back to taiwan just yet."

not without you, at least.

"thank god you asked," sana laughs, relieved. "i really thought you were going to pack up and leave once we were done."

tzuyu ducks her head. "i'd miss all of this too much, too."

"what was that?" sana teases, leaning in. "you'd miss me too much?"

"kaya and butter would miss you too much," tzuyu rolls her eyes, pushing sana's smug look away. "go away, i'm studying."

"aw, i love you, tzuyu," sana coos, voice high and dragged out to rub it in.

tzuyu groans, covering her ears in despair.

but it's all just for show.

where tzuyu and sana are right now, they decide they'd rather be here than anywhere else, too.

i love you too, sana.

didnt even use those satzu wips i wrote a whole new one instead?!% yeah idk whats going on in this fic either (but ill lose my mind if i spend longer on this than i alrdy have ong) and its a bit different from what i usually write, but still, hopefully it turned out tolerable at least,, 🙏 inspired-ish by that one falseknees comic, but in this one, their relationship always exists in every universe :)

thank you for reading! interactions, again, always appreciated <3

MEN DNI.

#twice imagines #sana x tzuyu #twice fluff #minatozaki sana #chou tzuyu #satzu #i wouldve called this one “wherever you are” instead but unfortunately #i did not have enough foresight when i wrote that mitzu fic #i think this title works well enough tho!#also i hate finding pics for the fics oml i have so many regrets making this my layout but i have to persevere for the sake of consistency.#i must #twice fics

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narcissa-black-supermacy · 2 years

Text

my accompanying drabble to @padfootastic's recent piece (also not proofread at all so please excuse the incoherence)

James with adhd and protective Sirius who will fight anyone who hurts his friends, told from Lily’s POV.

Lily does not really start paying attention to James Potter and Sirius Black until fourth year. She says James Potter and Sirius Black because in her head, it goes together, saying one without the other, while physically possible, is not very likely, and always leaves a feeling of something missing, something being out of place, something being not right. Like only having a knife for dinner, without a fork to accompany it.

She does not really pay attention to their antics when James keeps turning around in his seat every ten minutes during class to whisper something at Sirius even after they’ve been separated; does not listen when he talks loudly over breakfast, jumping from story to story, getting distracted in the middle, never properly finishing anything while Sirius just sits there and laughs at it anyway; does not really pay attention when on their very first day of flying class, James Potter surges up into the sky after he’s just explicitly been told not to do that, almost falls, laughs, winks at them from above, then almost falls again, all the while being yelled at by Madam Hooch and cheered on by Sirius Black, who got his own fair share of scolding after that for endorsing him.

She rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue and looks away.

When James shows up to class late yet again, grinning sheepishly with his hair sticking in all directions, apologising to the professor with the same old excuse of mixing up the hours, she rolls her eyes; when he keeps tapping his foot against the floor, twirling the quill between his fingers restlessly as his eyes keep darting around until the ink is spilled all over his robes and desk, she clicks her tongue; when he starts telling something when they’re all gathered in the common room around the fireplace, words an incoherent jumble of excitement that get mixed up so badly as he keeps jumping around from subject to subject that nobody around him is keeping track of anymore, she looks away.

She looks, but she does not see. She sees, but she does not notice. She notices, but she does not understand.

Not until Sirius Black, that is.

“What’s your deal?” The boy snarls angrily, abruptly jolting up to his feet to make his way over to where she and the girls are seated at in the common room.

Lily blinks. Sirius’ cheeks are a little flushed, like they are either when he’s angry, embarrassed or just came back from Quidditch practice (and seeing as it’s neither of the last two, it has to be the first one). His light grey eyes are narrowed, glinting at her dangerously with a promise of trouble in them, and one of his hands is clenched into a fist by his side. He seems upset.

Lily just looks at him. She has no idea where this hostility erupted from all of a sudden - everything seemed perfectly normal to her, up until this point.

James and the boys have been in their corner of the room, as per usual, quiet enough to keep an aura of mystery around them that drew the curious eyes of anybody who did not know better, but loud enough for it to be impossible to remain unnoticed.

They started off with studying, and then it somehow escalated to charmed paper-folded swans flying all around the room, up to the ceiling, bumping into each other, one of them falling between Mary’s spread out legs on the sofa.

“Just focus on your homework!” Lily yelled at them across the room, frustrated, after she just found herself rereading the same paragraph for the third time. “You don’t have to keep drawing attention to yourself all the time. Nobody cares.”

James smiled at her apologetically from a distance, flashed everybody his symbolic, white-toothed grin, saluted the rest of the boys for a good night, and made his way upstairs. Lily did not think twice about it, settling into the blissful silence of the room.

“What’s your deal?” Mary retorts defensively when Lily just keeps looking at him, confused.

“I wasn’t talking to you, MacDonald.” Sirius snaps viciously before turning back to glare at Lily. “Lay off of him.”

“You want me?” Lily sputters, momentarily at a loss of words. “To lay off of him?” She waits for a punchline, but that never comes, Sirius just stands there, looking like she personally offended him somehow.

“He’s loud.” She says at last, because she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to defend herself, even though she feels she has done nothing wrong. “And annoying. It’s hard to focus like that. Just because he doesn’t care about school, doesn’t mean we don’t either.”

Sirius lets out a laugh. It’s not a kind one. “Hard. Oh, is it?” He mocks. “Well, for him it’s hard all the time, Evans. Deal with it.”

And then he’s gone, furiously stomping up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

“Ignore them,” Mary tells her, “they’re both missing a few screws, the two of them.”

Mary is right, Lily has never paid much attention to what Sirius Black and James Potter had to say before, why would she now? But the words, echoing over and over in her head, refuse to let go.

Lily does not roll her eyes anymore after that.

She starts paying attention.

She pays attention to James’ hands, that seem to be unable to pause for longer than three seconds at a time at any point throughout the day, like it physically hurts to keep them still. They come up to ruffle his hair, push the glasses up his nose even when there is nothing wrong with their position; they play with his wand, twirling it around between long fingers, dropping it, bending down to pick it up, tucking it behind his belt, getting it out again, spinning it some more; they do the same with a quill when the wand is out of his reach, dangling it between two fingers restlessly whenever he isn’t writing, sticking it in his mouth, behind his ear, taking it out, putting it back again; occasionally he drops it and ink splatters all around, over the table, his skin, his clothes. He just grins sheepishly with that flashing smile of his that is basically a brand of its own at this point, and gladly accepts the distraction of cleaning up the mess he just made.

He moves around a lot when he talks, gesturing with his hands, jumping up and out of his seat, turning the chair over, sitting on it backwards, then abandoning it in favour of coming to sit on top of the table; he tugs on his friends’ sleeves impatiently when he feels like he’s being ignored, raises his voice more, pushes harder, makes sure he is heard loud and clear, always.

Remus and Peter seem to be accustomed to his antics, they nod along, put in encouraging remarks when it’s needed, remind him of the robes slung over the back of a chair when he gets up to leave without them, shove his books at his chest so they aren’t left forgotten on the desk.

Sirius, for as impatient and irritable as he is with virtually anybody else, is extraordinarily patient with him.

Sirius lets him play with his hair, something he is usually willing to bite people’s heads off for when it’s anybody else who attempts to do that. He settles in between James’ legs when they are sitting on the sofa in the common room, and James’ fingers instinctively, without even realising that, reach into Sirius’ hair, picking it apart into smaller groups, twirling the slick black locks around his fingers, braiding them together, then picking them apart again, over and over. When he does that, his voice grows calmer and his speech becomes slower, more focused, he takes his time to pick out the correct words and formulate sentences that are easier to understand.

Sirius lets him mess with the rings on his fingers, another thing he does not allow anybody else to even come close to touching. They are all different, various degrees of width and thickness, some with small stones or words and designs engraved into them, and others completely smooth and bland; each came at a different time and tells a different story, which Lily never cared much for or bothered asking about. He lets James twirl and move them around, take them off and put them back on, fingers brushing over the different shapes and textures.

He lets James draw on his hands arms with moving ink while they are reciting material in the library for an upcoming exam, lets him trace black patterns into his skin - circles, and trails, and shapes, triangles, feathers, roses.

Once Lily starts paying attention, she can’t help but notice.

Can’t help but notice how just before he grins and laughs it off, James’ expression falters for a second, shoulders sagging slightly and the light of excitement in his eyes dimming out when someone rolls their eyes impatiently, or sighs deeply with a tired look on their face, or clicks their tongue at him with annoyance.

She can’t help but notice how he suddenly falls silent after that, completely shutting down, fingers fidgeting even more than usual in his lap as he tries to remain still and quiet in his spot.

She can’t help but notice the way Sirius always tenses at that, eyes narrowing in warning, his grip tightening, knuckles almost white with the effort. He shifts closer to James, and pokes his cheek, ruffles his hair in an amiable gesture and asks him questions, trying to pull him out of his sombre.

Sirius takes off his glasses sometimes. When things are a little overwhelming, and James goes into a sort of stupor, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of everything going on around him, Sirius just leans over and slides the glasses off his nose casually, with the usual excuse of taking them to run a cleaning spell, or without even saying anything at all. James relaxes a little, some of the tension leaving his body.

James always leans back into Sirius in moments like this, pulls away and retreats into him, the only thing and place that seems to offer true comfort instead of agitating him even further. Sirius places a hand over his head and pushes the other’s head down, to rest on his shoulder, on his chest, caressing his hair slowly and gently as he leans down just the slightest bit to press a tender kiss to his friend’s temple.

James is loud, he takes up a lot of presence in the room, taking and demanding until there’s nothing left. But with Sirius he is quiet, he is calm and serene, and he never has to shout or even speak to get what he needs.

Sirius in turn is brutal, he is all sharp elbows and rough edges, vicious glares and sarcastic smirks. But with James he is soft and gentle, he is caring in the most selfless way possible, opening up so easily without the other even having to ask, showing vulnerabilities that he would never dare expose to anyone else.

They are both a little bit too much, but for each other, they seem to be just the right bit of enough.

#this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WEEK and pen's voice made me post it #my loves <3333 #prongsfoot #sirius/james #sirius x james #james x sirius #james/sirius #starbucks #james potter with adhd #my writing

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omamorens · 9 months

Text

And nobody would ever see us anymore

📓 : honkai: star rail. blade & kafka. general audiences.

🖇️ : hurt/comfort, mostly comfort, character study, fluff with no plot, mentions of death, no beta, result of brainrot, just blade sleeping against kafka while she hums gymnopedie no. 1

An endless sea of stars was the only light that illuminated their ship and yet Kafka didn’t need more to see the obvious displeasure on Blade’s face.

Blade, who sat in front of Kafka on their ship cabin as they ascended further away into space, had this silent, troubled look about him again.

After the events in Luofu, it was no surprise to her to see the eerily silent disposition Blade has taken up on. It was not his usual mood of persistent quiet and solitude— no, Kafka assumes this to be somewhat deeper and personal.

Now, Kafka was not one to pry.

In essence, the Stellaron Hunters should primarily be co-workers more than anything. Though she would be lying if she denied certain friendships formed along the way— but that was certainly too wholesome of a term for them.

They’re more complex to put a word to, but one thing was for certain: intimate relationships skirting more than ‘friendships’ risks danger to Elio’s scripts, and without their sense of purpose, what would all this make of them?

Exactly the reason why both Blade and Kafka understood clearly the nature of their relationship.

She was his tether, his leash; He was her weapon, her Blade.

Surely there was a physical attraction too, to which they’ve indulged themselves in countless of times across several missions all over the galaxy, but that intimacy was purely physical and nothing else.

And yet, at the sight of his seemingly melancholic mood, Kafka wanted nothing more than to dissect it apart and study piece by piece the reasons for someone who swore to be nothing else but a weapon is able to feel so human.

Perhaps it was her fascination in understanding emotions she could not feel; perhaps it was her own pursuit of the rough beauty of his agony that pleasured her. Either reason made sense, and yet Kafka knows it was not the entire truth.

“Kafka.”

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue finally snaps her out of her thoughts. Her? Lost in her thoughts? It was an occurrence that rarely ever happens and so as if second nature, she smiles at him, coy and almost sultry just to distract him of that fact.

“Yes, Bladie?”

And yet Blade sees it too— the performance of it all.

Kafka was a talented actor. Flawless, even, as she always is in most things she enjoyed to do, but nothing of her nature seemed to slip past his keen gaze. Not even her alluring smile could distract him from the hidden curiosity brewing deep in those lilac eyes.

When they first met, Blade was all rough edges and sharp teeth. She defeated him in that battle though he barely recalled the details of it. The only lasting memory he remembered is one of how he died at her hands— and the peace he felt in that momentary ‘death’.

It was different from the previous deaths his immortality cursed him; in those deaths, he remembers the feeling of the weapon piercing his skin, how his blood felt warm as it rushed out of his body, how he could still taste the iron in his tongue. His vision would flood with red and then he’d feel his muscles stitch back together in endless persistence of inflicting him agony.

Only by the death at her hands did he experience peace— at first, he thought the monster inside him subsided, that this would be it. But no. The monster was still there, it simply listened to her.

It was such a rare marvel in all his hundred years that he simply allowed it and followed her through in seeking destiny.

It was her gift, it seems— an ability she masterfully uses for manipulation. Though for Blade, it was his peace and saving grace.

“Listen, Bladie, unleash the mara.”

When she needed a weapon, she simply had to tell him so.

“Listen, Bladie, loosen up.”

And when its all over, she simply had to sheathe the weapon back and the monster inside him listened obediently.

“Listen, don’t think about anything at all.”

Even at times when thoughts flooded his senses and the overwhelming grief was too much, she only had to speak and it would all be gone in an instant.

Those were the same words she uttered to him when they first met and he agreed with a nod at her then, feeling the emotions subside to a calm.

Though now that he recalls it, he wonders if she actually used her ability on him. He still remembers a singular thought that pestered him that moment: how she smiled at him, and how he thought how sad that smile looked.

It was the same smile she’s giving him now.

“Earth to Bladie? Hello?” she repeats again, her voice always calming him even without the use of her ability. “You’re staring.”

At the mention, Blade instantly looked away, setting his gaze back to the endless sea of stars beyond them.

“You stared first.” he replies.

Kafka chuckles, almost shy and amused, though Blade knows it was only an act.

“I couldn’t help it, Bladie.” she reasons, leaning back comfortably on her seat. “You were having this look on your face again.”

‘This look’ , Blade sighs at it, closing his eyes and wishing away his previous thoughts before they drifted to Kafka.

Even without saying it, Blade could anticipate the next words coming out of her mouth. He knew her too well, and she knew him well enough to see the pain he keeps.

“Do you want me to whisper them away?” she offers kindly, though he assumes this not to be true either.

Kafka simply offered for the sake of the next mission they were heading to. She would need a weapon then; an efficient and sharp one, not the kind that he is right now.

Kafka has already done so much to get him back to his senses. Blade already felt uselessly reliant on the peace her voice brings him.

“No.” he answers curtly, silently insisting himself to fix it on his own. “I’m fine.”

Kafka hums, a sound that said ‘if you say so’ without even uttering the words out loud.

Still, Blade could still feel her gaze prickling his skin, demanding to be acknowledged.

He could never refuse her for long.

“Kafka.”

“You’re thinking deeply. What are you thinking about, Bladie?”

A forgotten part of Blade deep inside him instinctively answered home as he thought of Luofu. He didn’t even know he was still capable of this feeling— didn’t even know he was capable of remembering his history past the hurt and suffering blinding it all together.

And yet, back in Luofu, some of it came back to him like a movie in which he was both audience and main actor.

Pain, nostalgia, suffering, betrayal— they all molded together inside Blade’s mind and he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking.

These were not memories of home, and even if Blade had the vaguest idea of home, home would not give him the peace he seeks.

Only Kafka could give him that. She even offered her abilities and he knew it would work. The memories would condense back into the deepest recesses of his mind and he’d be numb of feeling this pain— finally at momentary peace.

But until when would he be reliant on her?

Blade knew more than anyone about the dangers they face, especially the dangers Elio’s scripts always pose upon them. And as always, Kafka was at the center of it all.

Unlike him, she is not immortal, and yet her lack of fear convinces most people she is.

That’s why he was needed for the next part of the script. To be her protection, to be her weapon. Blade could not allow danger to befall her. Though her skill in battle is not to be underestimated, a nagging fact keeps pestering his thoughts, troubling him to the point of silence and contemplation—

Kafka was mortal, beautifully and tragically so.

The thought of losing her felt too much pain enough as it is.

“The mission.” he answers instead, finally turning back to stare at those lilac eyes.

They seem to be staring past the white lie he gives, and Kafka thinks he’s right to assume so.

She didn’t buy the reason one bit but Blade already declined her offer to whisper to him.

Kafka always respected his decisions, so she doesn’t push further, even when she notices how he looks more exhausted than he lets on, even when she knew that grief was ripping apart every fibre of his immortal being.

Instead, she gets up.

Blade thought she was about to leave him alone— it was the last thing he wants— and he almost stops her from doing so until he realizes she simply circled over to his side of the seat, placing herself next to him.

“I understand. But we’re not due to another warp until tomorrow.” she says simply, placing an elbow on the table and placing her chin on her open palm, her face turned to the side to look at him.

“Relax, Bladie.”

Being under her whisper numerous times already, Blade knows the familiar grasp of it to his subconscious. It always felt like a string, wrapping and coiling around him at the sound of her velvet voice, caught like an insect on the spider’s web. He also knew the tone of her voice when she made an order but this one, none of those things were this.

Her suggestion to relax merely sounded like a request.

And even then, ‘relax’ was a word not in his dictionary. Blade didn’t know what to do with himself.

To Kafka, it was obvious the thoughts still troubled him. She didn’t even understand why his troubles bothered her too: was it because of their upcoming mission? Is it a leadership instinct to keep the team in tact? Is it still her curiosity to pry apart the emotion he feels to study for herself?

But Kafka knows Blade’s signs. She could see when he’d need her to whisper to him, she understands her responsibility to keep him in check.

This time though… it doesn’t seem like the mara is the one causing his internal struggle.

Kafka would rationalize with herself all she wants of the reason why she was so insistent to help with his worries, pointedly evading the truth of it all.

The truth that she cared for someone other than her own. The truth that she was able to feel it in her own way.

It was not part of the script.

It was not a move she planned on or an emotion she foresaw. It didn’t even seem like an emotion she thought herself capable of. Her affections for Blade was like an extension of herself, they were hers and she saw him as a part of her being.

Still, all of this feelings were foreign to her.

It was not part of the script…

…then again, if it wasn’t, then why should it matter?

Kafka gracefully stretches her arms out, yawning into her palm. By all means, she was not tired, but it was easy to pretend just to be able to lean her head to his side, her head resting on his solid shoulder.

“Mmn, we should rest, Bladie.”

Blade made a low sound that vibrated in his throat. Kafka has learned to understand that as his sound of agreement.

She made no move and simply rested herself next to him like that. Blade didn’t dare to move either.

In their silence, they both found their own comfort.

It was Blade’s voice that broke the silence, “Tell me a story, Kafka.”

With her eyes still closed, she hums, pondering which story to tell him this time.

A more recent memory came to mind: of dinner parties and expensive gowns, of pearl necklaces and tailored suits. Kafka told him that story, even when Blade himself was a part of it.

Could you blame her? Seeing her Bladie in a suit was a core memory even when there were parts of the night she’d rather forget.

On the other hand, Blade knew better than to bring those parts up— he’s always so obedient, isn’t he? Or perhaps he simply did not find interest in doing so. Blade rarely ever finds interest in anything, really…

Except this time, Kafka finds the reason for his unresponsiveness.

As Blade’s weight slowly piled on the crown of her head, Kafka heard the low rumble of his chest— Blade has fallen asleep, leaning into her with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still, Kafka finished her story, voice going lower until it almost seemed like she was whispering her words to float within his dreams. All the while, she carefully slips the sword clutched in his arms and placed them carefully beside her.

Blade was still in deep sleep as she replaced the sword with her own arm, looping it around his as she made herself comfortable against his shoulder.

Then, she closed her eyes, humming a classical piece she knew like the back of her hand.

The sound of his breathing was the deep undertone to her own orchestra, and she knew no other melody could be any better than the one they made.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

cross-posted on AO3. english is not my first language and i wrote this in my notes so apologies for errors. i was brainrotting so bad i had to get them out of my system.

title is taken from the quote:

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more. — Franz Kafka, The Castle

created by omamorens. please do not plagiarize.

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brittle-doughie · 2 years

Text

Heart of the Horde (Jellywalkers)

(This one may be a bit long)

Y/N = Your Name

Dr. Wasabi Cookie hastily entered her swamp hut and quickly moved over to her desk as she laid about more of her notes about today’s findings on a large Jelly Walker horde roaming about the land. However, it wasn’t the horde that got the most attention in her notes, rather it was the cookie at the epicenter of the horde, the one surrounded by the more dangerous horde members, Y/N Cookie.

It came as a horrible surprise to Wasabi that even the beloved and widely known cookie themself would fall victim to the Jelly Walker outbreak, she’ll admit that she was horrified and a bit heartbroken when she first spotted them. They immediately got her interest as her notes show, detailing behavior that she hasn’t seen any jellywalker exhibiting until this one.

She set down her recent notes as she took a look at what she had gathered so far.

For one, the horde itself displaying behavior that Wasabi has rarely seem them that she describe as herd-like. They go wherever the infected Y/N Cookie goes, some of them occasionally grumbling their name as they follow. Any jellies they find to eat is given to Y/N Cookie to see if they’re hungry, handing it over if they are, and the horde consuming the leftovers or the jellies if they were declined. It seems they still retain some level of memory of Y/N Cookie to be giving this treatment towards them even after the incurable jellification that has been brought upon them.

Wasabi will admit that it was a bit cute that some of the Jelly Walkers will give the infected Y/N Cookie a sort of gift often. Such as a smiling Jelly Walker Cotton Candy Cookie giving to Y/N what looked like a letter covered in jelly, or even a Coffee Cookie Jelly Walker handing them one of her cups with jelly inside.

This adoration Y/N Cookie had gained may come with a downside however.

Y/N Cookie being such a loved figure meant that of course other cookies would try to go looking for them. Orange, Cinnamon, Pistachio, Hero, perhaps the legendaries themselves would be out and about searching for them as well! It seems those who did find Y/N Cookie just couldn’t bear to be away from them forever, so Wasabi suspects that some cookies might have purposely eaten contaminated jellies just so they could join the horde and be close to their beloved Y/N Cookie. Wasabi did consider it at one point, but she had to quickly shake away that thought, the fate of Earthbread may rest on her hands if she’s able to find a possible cure to the infection.

She moved on to the next part of her research to distract her thoughts, the horde’s response to threats. Wasabi saw what the horde is capable of when they were angry and it’s usually not pretty. It’s the reason she has to maintain a good distance and stay out of sight when she conducts her research.

The horde can get pretty agitated quite easily if Y/N Cookie is threatened in any way, swarming about like a group of angry bees as they look around and search for the perpetrators, making angry snarls and screams doing so. The most dangerous of the jellywalkers huddle around Y/N Cookie, protecting them from any further danger as the rest of the horde rush and attack any suspected threat of Jelly Walker Y/N Cookie. Not even caring about infecting them anymore, they’ll brutalize the offenders in a rage until they’re nothing but crumbles and bits on the ground.

Wasabi winced as she had to repress a memory where in the middle of her tracking and researching the horde, a party of bounty hunters sent out to track and bag Y/N Cookie approached the group. The resulting rush attack meant the gruesome end of that party.

Even if for whatever reason Y/N Cookie was caught and taken away from the horde, which has happened on one occasion during one of Wasabi’s field studies, the horde will be VERY quick to realize it and fly into a rage to which the perpetrators pretty much surrendered their rights to live as the horde will quickly give chase and tear them apart as others rescue and huddle around Jelly Walker Y/N Cookie.

Wasabi isn’t sure if it was due to direct line of sight or if the horde was capable of finding Y/N Cookie anywhere they go with a sort of hivemind they had, she just couldn’t explain the near psychic capability of tracking Y/N Cookie wherever they went. One thing is for sure, trying to capture Y/N Cookie for any study is out of the question or else she meets the same fate as those bounty hunters and anyone that tried to get to Y/N Cookie. As long as Jelly Walker Y/N Cookie was left alone, the horde remained stable and calm.

Dr. Wasabi Cookie gathered her notes for today and placed them into her folder as she placed it in her coat pocket. She was long aware that she left her other notes back at the lab, but she’s certain she’s not leaving behind these notes, at least…not the ones that she’s written Y/N Cookie about in them. Wasabi needed to conduct more study in hopes of getting that cure, to have the Jelly Walkers return to normal….

…..to have Y/N Cookie return to normal.

She smiled to herself as she remembered first inviting them to her lab, showing off her crazy experiments and stuff, seeing their eyes filled with amazement and curiosity. She wished she could see those eyes of theirs once more before this whole outbreak began. She couldn’t give up on them, never.

With a newfound resolve, she grabbed her needle and ran off, she had found a particular mandragora that she could test on. If it doesn't work, oh well, she’ll have to try again until she gets it right! Things might get a bit complicated, but who cares, it will be a step closer to finding the cure!

To save Earthbread, and most importantly Y/N Cookie, from this mess!

#cookie run x reader #cookie wars x reader #jelly walkers x reader #dr wasabi cookie #cookie run x you

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dd122004dd · 4 months

Text

The New Mistress Fuca: Part 4 Dinner and Diatribe

The first day of being the new Mistress Fuca moves swiftly, the day soon turning to night as the night brings forth unexpected company.

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey dudes, I'm back, yeah even I didn't think it'd happen, but yeah. Apologies for the extremely long wait. I don't know if there's anyone reading this anymore but I'll try to be more regular. Thanks for reading!

After parting from the little boy she turned to her husband, “He seems like a sweet boy.”

“Stay away from him, he doesn’t need to be distracted from his studies.” He stated harshly before stalking away.

Standing still, watching him walk away she merely tilted her head before straightening her spine before walking purposefully towards her quarters. ‘Fine, if he’s going to be so rude then I might as well ignore him.’

QingQing trailed behind her mistress in silence, wondering about the harsh exchange between the couple.

Once they reached her quarters, she ordered QingQing to fetch the ledgers that the Madam had sent her. Reading through the ledgers was a taxing task but once she completed going through the most recent ones, she told QingQing to gather the head-maids and the head-eunuchs.

The task was swiftly completed and a line of servants stood before her, heads bowed in respect.

“Good morning, everyone. You must be wondering why I have called you here.”

She was met with silence, before she continued, “I have been reading the household accounts and I must say, they’re extremely well-maintained. Which one of you wrote these accounts?”

“It was me, Young Mistress,” an old voice answered as one of the senior maids stepped forward.

“They’re very thorough, which I appreciate,” she said, motioning towards the maid who answered as QingQing delicately placed a piece of silver within the maid’s hands.

“Now, you must have heard that Madam Fuca has put me in-charge of the accounts for this month, so from now on you will report to me about any and all purchases made, even the smallest ones,” she said smiling, sipping on her tea before giving them more instructions and dismissing them.

Madam Fuca had been running the household with a lax hand, whereas Erqing though a tyrant, was adept at keeping the books in order, which made her work both easier and harder. The servants would now be cautious about what they did but on the other hand they’d be more honest in fear of being punished.

She sighed, leaning against her chair as she sipped her tea, planning what she’d do next.

The night came quickly as she found herself alone within their chambers. The room was cold and desolate, a pristine room with no inhabitants. She slowly entered the room, lighting the lamps as she smiled, settling before the small table in the center of the room, opening the dishes that QingQing had bought her from the kitchen.

A small feast of steamed tofu flavored with chicken broth, meat stewed with cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and a blend of herbs along with steamed bamboo shoots and jasmine rice spread over the table.

The mouth-watering scents wafted around the room, making her eager to dig in. She took a few bites of the meat and rice, the flavors tingled against her tastebuds as she took another bite from her portion. Her attention was quickly drawn away from her food when she heard the familiar sound of the door sliding open. Her husband stood at the entrance, a calm look on his face as he took in her startled expression.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Well, where else would I be? This is my room, is it not?”

“Technically it’s my room, you’re just staying in it.”

“Technically, it’s my room, since I was here first.”

“That’s not how it works,” he said, frustrated at her childishness

“Well, that’s how it is. So, since this is MY room, what brings you here, to MY room.”

“Well, I had come to MY room to have dinner, but I suppose you’ve already started then,” he said, sitting down unceremoniously before her as he took one of the extra bowls as he started serving himself.

“Wha- that’s my food!” she shrieked indignantly as he smirked, piling more food into his bowl.

“Well, we’re married now, are you so cruel that you’d make your beloved husband starve?” he said mockingly.

She stared at him as he helped himself to her food, her irritation rising as he proceeded to fish out the best pieces of meat from the stew. As his spoon moved towards his bowl, she blocked his spoon with her own, preventing him from stealing away her meat.

“Beloved husband,” she said sweetly, “Isn’t it rude that you’re stealing my food and leaving me to starve? Are you so cruel that you’d let your dearest wife starve?” she finished, as she struggled to make him let go of his spoon, before eventually failing and letting him escape with his loot.

“Starve, dearest wife? I’d never let that happen. Consider it a small sacrifice for the privilege of dining with such delightful company,” he said, enjoying the meal he had claimed as his own.

“Oh, so you’re taxing me for the displeasure of your company? Fuca Fuheng, I didn’t think you’d stoop so low,” she said, gasping dramatically as she attempted to reclaim some of the fragrant meat from his bowl.

“I’m doing nothing of the sort! In fact, you’re the one so graciously hosting me, in MY room,” he said, grunting as he blocked her surprise attack.

“Oh really? Well then, shouldn’t the host have the honor of enjoying her dinner without any theft involved?” she bit back playfully.

“But my dearest wife, I’m just helping you finish all this food, I wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste,” he said, depositing another piece of meat into his bowl as he smirked at her.

“Fine, fine, but if you choke on something, don’t expect me to help you,” she said, spooning the rest of the meat into her bowl before he could get his sticky hands on it.

She continued eating as they fell into a comfortable silence with the rhythmic clinking of spoons against bowls the only sound in the room.

After they finished the meal, he stated that he’d be sleeping in his study, before going towards the sleeping area and picking up a bedroll he kept.

The cold line that had blurred for a moment was drawn again as he packed his belongings for the night and swiftly wished his wife a good night’s rest.

He felt conflicted as he exited the room. For a brief moment he’d felt surprisingly comfortable with her, but he knew better than to trust a few moments with a stranger. Memories of his misplaced trust in Erqing lingered in his thoughts as strengthened his resolve to be cautious.

Taglist: @kazenomegaminowanpisu@shiranai-atsune@hilea-love@cosmic-cares@mango-jj@hanhanartz@navierkalani@genderfluidsanta@missfancy29@canary3d@honeyformybees @melodypinky @shiranai-atsune@mufflerfluffler@gabaii@wxndi @lalisayeung @carrot-cheese-cake @bobamilkii @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ciaratomioka1432

#fuca #fuca fuheng x reader #fuca clan #fuca fuheng #legend of yanxi palace #story of yanxi palace #the story of yanxi palace

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ideasbaker · 2 years

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—even knowing these two scenes are not the same, i really think it makes such a good work explaining why mileven and stancy should not be endgame, and most importantly, shows us how the wheeler siblings deal with emotions as strong as love.

“I- I care for you, so much.”

“care... but you- you don’t love me anymore?”

“who- who said that I didn’t?”

“you never say it!”

“I say it.”

“you can’t even write it mike. from, mike; from, mike; from, mike; from, mike; from, from, from!”

“okay! okay you’re being ridiculous! why? like- what is this? you- you know what I think of you! you’re the most incredible person in the world! and- you can’t let this mouth-breathers ruin you! ruin us! I mean- they’re nobody’s! they’re nobody’s! and you’re a superhero.”

“apparently uh- we killed barb, and I don’t care, because I’m bullshit. and our whole... our whole relationship is bullshit... I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. oh yeah, also: you don’t love me.”

“I was drunk steve. I don’t remember any of that.”

“so that makes everything you said... it’s what? just bullshit, too?”

“yes.”

“well, then tell me.”

“tell you what?”

“you love me.”

“really?”

—in both of these situations we see nancy and mike being confronted by their significant others on the fact that they can’t say they love them (in nancy’s case, being blamed for throwing to the trash all of their relationship after she gets drunk, which triggers a breakdown that she pushes onto steve). we need to have in mind that ted and kate wheeler don’t have the perfect relationship, in fact, in season 1 nancy tells jonathan how she thinks they never loved each other, and that their marriage had more to do with money than with love. this means that mike and nancy have grown up seeing their parents relationship and being told that that’s love, because when you’re a kid you assume what your parents do it’s the right thing, the good thing. once they were older they realized it wasn’t, and probably shielded themselves from emotions so they wouldn’t end up in a sad and tiring relationship like their parents. we see this in nancy mostly portrayed in season 1, seeing how she cares deeply for studies and how she knows what she wants in life is not a relationship but a good career (even when she starts dating steve, it never is her first priority). in nancy’s mind, keeping herself from strong feelings can protect her from heartbreak and all the shitty things her mom goes through just because she married the wrong man. in mike we see it in the way of how protective he is over his friends, which can lead to him being selfish, just like he said in season 3. in mike’s mind, being the leader of the group and being able to decide all the decisions gives him the power to push away any situations that could hurt him and his friends, like heartbreak.

now, to give this a bit of context, we need to realize both eleven and steve are people who show abandonment issues. in eleven’s case, is just as simple as stating the fact that she was locked in a lab for most of her life, without any knowledge of who her parents are, and being brainwashed into thinking the evil man who’s making her life hell is her dad, and that after going through all this, it’s very difficult to not be afraid of the first person who treated her right (mike) leaving. in steve’s case, we know his parents aren’t usually home, and that that bought him to hang out with the only people who were willing to hang out with him, and when those assholes leave him it obviously leaves fears towards others doing it too. it’s true that he was the one to leave them first, but imagine how steve must’ve felt when the only people who could be considered his friends left him without a second thought.

in mileven’s scene we see how mike first tries to convince eleven that he does love her, because he doesn’t like seeing his friends hurt, and when that doesn’t work, he tries and distract her with praise, because he can’t deal with explaining his emotions to her yet, but he also doesn’t want her to be hurt. in stancy’s scene steve is angry and sad and needs reassurance because his girlfriend and only friend told him he’s bullshit and everything that surrounds their relationship is too. nancy can’t reassurance him the way he wants, but still tries other way, which is by affirming that she doesn’t remember anything and that everything she said was in fact not true, and that he shouldn’t worry about it.

what i want to say with this is that steve and eleven have several self esteem problems and that need to be reminded they are loved, and that is not a bad thing, everyone needs to be remind it of it, but for that to be done by nancy and mike, they would need to work really hard on their commitment issues. in the other hand, will and jonathan have too, self esteem issues, but they repress it, and don’t need as much verbal reassurance but instead, actions that show how much they are loved. i say this because as i see it, joyce and lonnie’s relationship didn’t lack words of fake love declarations but lacked true love actions, this without mentioning that lonnie has been shown to be an aggressive man who made fun of his own kids just for fun. nancy and mike’s whole thing is showing their love by actions, such as how when mike went behind the cops and his parents just to find will, his best friend since childhood, and how nancy exposed herself to her flayed boss just to keep jonathan, the person who understands her best, safe. of course, when you enter a relationship you need to work on your own problems and sacrifice yourself a little for your partner’s happiness, but is that much sacrifice worth it? is it worth it for mike and nancy to end up hating their lives and also eleven and steve because they needed to change their whole personalities so they could be together? when jonathan and will, two people who understand them perfectly and don’t need to pressure them into stating verbally their love for them are right there?

sorry for it being so long i hope i made my point clear tho:)

#no hate to eleven or steve tho #mike going back to hawkins being gay for will just to find nancy being gay for robin #anyway #mike wheeler #eleven #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #will byers #jonathan byers #byler #jancy #stranger things #st4 #st4 spoilers #coffeethinks

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bedsyandco · 4 months

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The hockey team is always teasing Dylan just because of how in love he looks at Jules. It's because Jules and Dylan do everything together. Like they have known each other their whole lives practically, but they can't be separated. Jules is going to the store oh Dylan is with her. Jules is watches her fav show tvd ( I chose it because Dylan said he liked it in a TikTok) he’s wiatxhing it too. Jules is tried from a party ok they are leaving. Now he has her and can’t get enough

since they got together they’re attached at the hip!! it’s very rare to see one of them without the other!! so rare that people become a little concerned when it happens

—

“where’s Jules?” Ethan asks as Dylan plops down next to him and Mark on the couch

“she’s studying at her place,” dylan mumbles and mark and ethan exchange a worried glance

“did you guys fight?” Mark asks

“no, she just said that she needs to study and she can’t do that with me there cause she just wants to spend time with me so it distracts her,” dylan says sadly and ethan and mark exchange amused glances this time.

“sorry bud, it’s only a few hours. besides we missed you. we barely get to hang out just the three of us anymore,”

#❥ — ꒰ jules + dylan ꒱

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spaceagebachelormann · 1 year

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Hi! I love your writing and had a request!

Neville Longbottom x gn!hufflepuff!reader, a lot of people write him as the one that admires reader from afar while reader is also seen as “perfect”, But I would like it reversed! Reader is the one that likes to admire Neville from afar because they think he’s so pretty and smart and kind. They both have herbology together but reader is close to failing the class so the professor sets up Neville to be their tutor. Reader can’t help but be distracted the entire time when Neville is actually trying to tutor them so they have to keep meeting. But plot twist it was readers plan the whole time just so they have an excuse to be around him and get to know him. One day reader can’t take it anymore a just straight up kisses him when he’s in the middle of a lesson because they think he’s just too cute when he talks about something he’s passionate about. Reader then confesses about everything and they end up together and it’s just cute and fluffy <3

TUTOR - NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FANDOM: harry potter

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FORMAT: long/short fic

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: goblet of fire spoilers

ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUMMARY: luna devises a plan to get her best friends together

masterlist || harry potter masterlist || navigation

“Y/N, would you stay for a moment after class?” Professor Sprout asked, making eye contact with the young Hufflepuff from across the room.

“Of course, professor!” Y/N responded, before returning to their Herbology notes.

They were so close to failing the class. A few more times of messing up their assignments and they were for sure in trouble. For years now, Y/N had been doing everything they could to get their grade up, but nothing seemed to be working. Luckily, this did not go unnoticed by her classmates.

Luna Lovegood, Y/Ns best friend, had been worried about their grade for weeks. She offered her notes, took her on study dates, and was doing everything she could to help, but nothing seemed to be working.

Her other Hufflepuff classmates also tried to help. Before Cedric Diggory had… you know, he attempted to tutor Y/N. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.

However, Luna was friends with Neville Longbottom. Neville was an extremely gifted Herbologist. Luna knew for sure he could help Y/N.

And, to make things better, Luna knew of Y/N’s gigantic crush on Neville, and knew exactly what to do.

“Professor?” She asked, stepping up to Professor Sprout with a grin on her face.

“Yes, Miss Lovegood?” The plump woman responded, turning her body and head towards her and offering a smile.

Luna pointed at her best friend, who was desperately flipping through their notes, “My friend, Y/N, they’re just so close to failing this class. I’ve tried anything and everything I could, offering my notes, asking other friends to offer their notes, but nothing seems to be helping.”

The professor raised a brow at the blonde girl, indicating for her to go on.

“Neville Longbottom. He’s a brilliant Herbologist. A couple years ago, I myself was failing this class, do you recall? He was a lovely tutor, he’s the reason I’m still so good at Herbology. I was thinking he could tutor Y/N. He may be the only person who can save them at this point.”

The older woman nodded slowly. Perhaps this was the only way Y/N could pull themselves out of the dirt.

She smiled at Luna brightly. “That’s a wonderful idea! At first, I was just going to assign some homework, but yes, I think Mr. Longbottom is a great idea. Thank you, Miss Lovegood.”

Luna smiled back at the professor, “No problem.”

And with that lovely news, she skipped back to Y/N, and the two began to talk.

Soon enough, the class was over. Luna and Professor Sprout made eye contact as the blonde girl walked out, being reminded of the two students she needed to speak to.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” Y/N asked, nervously wringing their hands together as their chest pinched with fear.

“Mr. Longbottom, come here for a moment.” The professor asked, glancing between the two students.

Y/Ns heart almost stopped beating. They’d been crushing on Neville for weeks. He was so smart, and he’d always been very kind to Y/N. Always made sure to point out what they were doing wrong in Herbology if he noticed they needed help. It didn’t help that Y/N also thought he was quite pretty.

“Have you two met before?” The older woman asked politely once they were both standing beside eachother.

Y/N opened their mouth to speak, but the anxiousness has caused their throat to close up.

“Not formally.” Neville answered, glancing at them with a seemingly worried expression.

“Well, I may as well get to the point. Neville, I want you to tutor Y/N. She’s very close to failing Herbology and Luna Lovegood enlightened me that you may be able to help. Is that okay with you two?”

Of course, Y/N thought, Lunas behind this, who else would be?

“That’s perfectly fine! I don’t mind at all!” They answered way to quickly, feeling their face begin to heat up and their chest make the same familiar pinching feeling.

Neville smiled politely. “I’d love to, professor.”

The woman smiled. “Great! Now, I want you both to work out a schedule on the way to lunch. Alright?”

The students nodded, walking out together.

“So, I was thinking we could meet 3 times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, easy to remember. What do you think?”

The boy turned his head to the person beside him, mentally noting their nervousness so he didn’t accidentally freak them out.

“That’s good. I can do that. Today’s Monday, should we meet today?” Y/N asked, turning their head away so he didn’t see their flushed cheeks, which didn’t work because he saw them immediately.

“I don’t see why not, I’ll meet you in the greenhouse at 8PM, i'll tell Professor Sprout we’re going to be there so we don’t get in trouble.”

Y/N nodded, realizing they were in the Great Hall.

Before turning on their heel and scattering away to their Hufflepuff friends, they muttered a quick thank you, and did exactly that.

“Was that Neville Longbottom?” Hannah Abbot asked excitedly.

“How did it go? What were you talking about?” Susan Bones asked right after.

Y/N breathed out happily, “He’s my Herbology tutor now! Professor Sprout asked him to help me!”

The three of them had a very long conversation about this unexpected news. Y/N didn’t see the boy from a few minutes ago staring at them.

“What are you looking at?” Ron Weasley asked, aggressively cutting his meat.

Hermione Granger followed Nevilles gaze, ending up on the Hufflepuff.

“Y/N, huh? They’re very nice, just a bit nervous all the time.” She said, now beaming with delight.

Nevilles cheeks were now flushed. “I just spoke with them, Professor Sprout asked me to be their tutor. We’re meeting tonight at 8.” He said, now also grinning.

“Good luck, Neville!” Harry Potter said, smacking his back.

As his back was turned, Neville was now oblivious to the one staring at him.

Y/N sat in the greenhouse nervously. Neville was running a bit late, and they were beginning to fear he had forgotten.

This feeling was long forgotten as the greenhouse doors burst open.

The dark-haired boy appeared in the doorway, a focused expression on his cute face, and a pile of books in his arms, and even more in a bag he had on his back.

Y/N rushed over to him, taking a few of the books in their arms. “Neville!” They exclaimed, “Put these down, open the bag, i have something to show you.” They said, while hurriedly placing the books on the table.

Neville nodded and dropped them down on the wooden surface, opening the bag for Y/N, a confused looking replacing the focused one.

They cleared their throat, and spoke clearly, “Capacious extremis.”

The bag, which was overfilled a few moments ago, expanded, making it much easier for when Neville had to carry everything back after their session.

“There,” Y/N said with an awkward smile, “that should make everything, you know, less hard to carry.”

Nevilles eyes twinkled with amazement, and he began to grin widely.

“Y/N, that was amazing! I can never remember that charm, and that was so smart of you!”

Once again, he took notice of the way Y/Ns cheeks heated up, and laughed a little.

Meanwhile, Y/N was at a loss for words, normally they could respond to compliments just fine. But, this one came from Neville, which automatically made their whole week.

“Anyways, where do you want to start?” Neville politely asked, pulling on his gardening gloves.

“We were learning about Bowtruckles, and Professor Sprout asked me to write a double sided parchment on their behaviour. I can’t find anything good enough for it though, and this is the 8th time this year I haven’t been able to write an assignment like this.”

His face lit up at the mention of Bowtruckles, very clearly excited to talk about them with somebody.

“Well,” he began, flipping through one of the books, “it’s a very peaceful and shy creature. However, if the tree it lives in is threatened, it attempts to harm the one who’s hurting the tree. If you offer woodlice, the Bowtruckle will be less angry and hostile, and you can get some wood-wand from its tree.”

He turned his gaze back towards Y/N, who was leaning on the table, listening intently and watching his face with wonder on theirs.

“Here, I’d recommend these books. They explain a whole bunch of things about Bowtruckles. Read chapters 6, 9, and 18 here, and then I can help you write that assignment.” He said, smiling at Y/N happily.

They nodded, giving a sincere and genuine thank you, which made his heart flutter, and then they grabbed the books and quickly ran back to the Hufflepuff common room.

And, this went on for weeks. Y/N and Neville meeting and trying to fix their Herbology grade.

The best parts?

A) Y/Ns grade was improving! They were understanding a bit more, and had grown a lot closer with Neville. At this point, the two of them were inseparable when they weren’t in separate classes.

B) Y/N was purposely forgetting and pretending not to understand things so she and Neville could continue meeting. It was all part of her master plan.

On this special day in April, Neville was happily talking and grinning adorably about Herbology during one of their sessions.

Y/N wasn’t listening though. They were focused on Nevilles face, and how his eyes were shining, his cheeks were flushed, and, his lips. They wanted to stand up and kiss them so badly.

They wanted to kiss Neville until they were the only thing Neville could think about.

They wanted to kiss Neville until they both couldn’t think straight.

They wanted to kiss Neville until they couldn’t breathe.

And, Neville did too. For the past weeks, it was all he wanted to do.

Sadly, Y/N was unaware of Nevilles true feelings. That wasn’t going to stop their next move though.

He was standing in front of them, leaning on the desk and rambling on and on about something. Y/N stood up, and pressed their lips against his.

And, there it was. A spark. The spark they’d both been dreaming of for months.

Neville kissed back, gently placing his hands on either side of their face, while their hands rested on his shoulders.

When they pulled away, both of their faces were flushed and they were slightly panting.

“I, uh, so i’ve kinda liked you for.. about 2 years by my best guess, and I wasnt thinking, so I kissed you. And, i’m sorry? I think?” They said, awkwardly placing their hands by their side and refusing to make eye contact.

Neville laughed, taking their cold and shaky hands in his. “I’ve liked you for awhile too. I don’t think I was ever going to tell you anytime soon though.”

Y/N rolled their eyes with a playful smile. “You’re so weird.”

“So are you.”

The session ended with no more work being done, and the two laughing and making out, and then Neville walked Y/N to the Hufflepuff common room, getting one last kiss before they went to sleep.

#harry potter #neville longbotton x reader #neville longbottom #mars writing 🧈

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boogiewrites · 1 year

Text

Seeing Stars Pt. 20

Star pulls away from Eddie and everyone notices what poor shape she's in. It only escalates when Star receives news that devastates her. The heightened emotions and opposing views of the situation lead Eddie to feel hopeful while Star is as low as she's ever been. This leads to a conversation that neither was ready to truly have.

CW: (I'm sorry.) Discussions of former abuse, gaslighting, etc. Poor self-image inner monologue. Verbal argument with yelling.

Part 1 if you missed it!

Star had managed to put some space between her and Eddie. The cost of the self-imposed whipping of sorts caused her to be constantly exhausted. She picked up more shifts or worked longer hours. She studied and hung out with Robin and Steve. She spent one night a week with Eddie, down from almost every night they’d slowly worked up to.

She hated herself, she was depressed and it showed. Everyone around her saw it and she brushed it off. The circles under her eyes and poor posture were dead giveaways. She never did her hair or makeup and wore all dark colors despite spring being on the horizon. Eddie had noticed of course but was giving her space. Ever since Valentine's Day, she’d been distant. He suspected she might’ve remembered what happened after she was no longer puking her guts out. But she never said anything. He never asked. They kept their movie nights, she’d fall asleep on him on the couch and he’d carry her to bed. It was the only night they both slept well anymore.

Star had broken herself. She’d mixed up sugar and salt and ruined an entire batch of dough at work. Her boss told her to go home. Even they saw how tired and frazzled she was and looked at her with pity.

She went to Family Video before going home.

“Muppets again?” Robin asked.

“It’s my comfort movie,” Star mumbled.

“How much comfort are you needing? I thought you rented it a lot before but the past month you’ve gotten it once a week.” Steve interjected.

“I need a lot.” was her dead-eyed response.

“You okay?” Robin asked with a wince.

“No, not really. Not in a kill-myself way though. More in the never-ending emotional and spiritual crisis so I have to constantly distract myself so I don't have a thought or I’ll cry so much I’ll throw up.” She said it so casually, leaning on the countertop.

“Jesus Star,” Steve whispered.

“I’m being honest.” She shrugged.

“Aren’t you already seeing a shrink?” Steve said tilting his head.

“Yep. They’re tired of my shit.” She laughed and rubbed her face. “I’m tired of my shit. Everyone is. So I’m better off alone. Which is why I’m going home after getting booted from work for being a dumb ass and watching my stupid little movie with its stupid little puppets.”

“You got fired?” Steve moved up the edge of the counter.

“No, no. I messed up a big batch of dough because I’m too tired to focus and they asked me to go home. Said they could tell I was tired. It was fine. I think.”

“I don’t think you’re fine.”

“I’m baseline.”

“You sound crazy.”

“I mean I’m not anything I’m not okay or good or fine I’m just-“ she held her hands out. “Here.”

“Did Eddie give you something too strong I will kick his ass if he did?” Steve whispered.

“No this is just me depressed. Leave Eddie out of it.” She muttered and both her friends knew exactly what the problem was.

“Did he do something?”

“No. He’s great. I’m the asshole.” She said with no hint of joking.

“Ohhh.” They both nodded in unison.

“Did you fuck it up?” Robin asked with a wrinkled nose. Star did always appreciate Robin's forward nature.

“I don’t think so no. I’m just.” She let out a sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m having a lot of feelings that I’m not equipped to deal with yet.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve had a knowing grin. “I knew it would happen eventually.”

“Shut up.” Star snatched her bag off the counter.

“Somebody’s in love.”

“Somebody’s making me wonder if I could get out of a murder charge.” She glared.

“So what? You fell in love with Eddie. Go for it, you’re both stupid for each other. Just let the guy in.” He insisted.

“I think she’s trying and can’t,” Robin cut into Steve’s light-hearted advice. “That’s what ‘a lot of feelings I’m not equipped to deal with’ means right?”

“I don’t like that you two are secret geniuses that can read me like this.” She whispered leaning over with a finger on the counter.

“We aren’t geniuses, dingus.” Robin smiled.

“Yeah, we’re just your friends. Friends notice this stuff.” Star blinked for a moment and in her fragile state, the words made her heart feel the weight of them. They saw her bottom lip pout out and quiver.

“Oh god, what?” Robin panicked and pushed away.

“You are my friends.” She said as tears rose and fell fast.

“Oh geez,” Steve mumbled and hopped over the counter. “You know we’re your friends you… big crybaby.” He hugged her.

“Not helping.” Robin shook her head.

“She’s exhausted, she’s worked herself up in her head about her feelings and she’s run away from them until they’ve caught up to her.” He pats her back. “I’ve been there. Go smoke and sleep. Get a full night's rest. Drink some water. Eat. You’ll feel better.”

“I need an exorcism,” Star said from his chest and it made them all smile.

“If you go home and rest and tomorrow you still feel like you need an exorcist I’ll get you one. Deal?”

“A young priest and an old priest.” Robin chuckled.

“Fine.” She grumbled. “Deal.”

Star knew to an extent Steve was right. She went home, downed the tallest glass she had of water, then ate leftovers. She smoked, had some tea, and a sleeping pill, and the next thing she knew it was 12 hours later.

So Steve was right. So what?

She did feel better. Not great but at least she wasn’t falling apart at the seams. She wasn’t filled with jitters and doom. She could think about Eddie without wanting to cry which was a great start. She lazed, deservedly so. She flipped through her neglected journal, the air thick with gray from tea, incense, and weed. She landed on the last pencil drawing of Eddie she’d done. She traced her fingers over his goofy expression. She loved how expressive his face was. She loved the smile lines and dimples, the crow's feet that appeared when he smiled big or laughed. She sat back in a nest of pillows and sighed. Being in love felt amazing. She loved how warm and fuzzy she felt when she thought about him or was near him.

She’d never felt a positive emotion so intense before. She didn’t know she could. The thought of losing it froze her with fear. She imagined being with him and it made her feel selfish. Would she put her life on pause for his? Could she put someone’s needs before her own? Could she take care of him like she thought he deserved? She was in a common predicament of being so afraid of losing something that she never tried to have it in the first place. That fear of failure, of disappointment, of her showing him her truth and him telling her one day it’s not good enough. He'd wisen up and see she wasn’t a good person, that she wasn’t good enough for him. The idea that she’d try and fail threatened her. Because then her ex would be right. Then what else was he right about if he was right about that?

She felt like a fraud waiting to be found out. Like the person she’d become while in Hawkins wasn’t truly her. She was fooling everyone. Somehow she’d gotten so good at pretending to not be a selfish immature whore that she’d convinced herself of it too. The big feelings came back. She took some deep breaths and a deep drag. A knock on her door startled her out of her hazy nest. She stared at the door in silence like it might tell her something. She didn’t move, only sat up crossed-legged.

“Hey? Star?” She’d know the voice anywhere. She hadn’t expected him, she thought he had band practice today.

“Eddie?” She asked as if she didn’t know. “You can come in.” She quickly followed up. He looked in carefully at first as if he expected something unpleasant. But she was there with still damp hair in a robe in a nest of pillows. “Don’t you have band practice?”

“Gareth sprained his wrist and Jeff dislocated his finger this week trying to reenact a match from Wrestlemania.” He shook his head. “So they’re out of commission.”

“That’ll do it.” She mused with pressed lips.

“I thought I might come to see you instead.” He fully walked into the trailer, not making the move to get comfortable just yet.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I wasn’t doing much.” She closed her journal and sat it to the side.

“How are you feeling?” He asked taking off his coat. Star squinted his eyes at him. He looked back at her while rubbing the back of his neck. A sign of nervousness.

“Why?”

“You just seemed like you’ve not been doing that great lately?” He half shrugged and tentatively approached her.

“Did Steve-?”

“Yeah, Steve called me.” He admitted with a huff.

“And what did Steve say?” She inquired leaning with her elbows to her knees.

“That you came to see him at the store and you were acting out of it and looked like shit and almost got fired.” He chuckled because he assumed Steve was being a touch dramatic. He did like to weave a big story.

“Good to have honest friends.” She sighed.

“What happened?”

“I ran myself ragged running from my problems and I hit a wall. I mixed sugar and salt up and ruined the dough. Boss sent me home and told me to rest. I think it’s fine. I was just running on empty.”

“You seem… okay? Better now?”

“I slept for 12 hours.” She smacked her lips together.

“That will help almost anything. You don’t have the dark circles as bad anymore.”

“They were that bad huh?”

“Steve might’ve called me to come to check on you but you have been… different the past month or so. I feel like I barely see you and you’re always working.”

“That’d be because I have been.”

“Are you okay?” Genuine interest as he put his hand on her knee.

“No and yes. I’m just an idiot.” She laughed at herself. “I used to do hard drugs and go out and sleep with strangers to run from my problems before and I don’t do that anymore so I don’t know how to deal with myself. So I’m overwhelmed and my brain won’t shut the hell up. Like ever. And I’m anxious and depressed and I feel like my therapist hates me right now.”

“That’s… a lot.” He didn’t know how to respond. “I mean it’s good you’re not-hard drugs? Wait what?”

“Yeah. I did coke when things got really bad.” She admitted with an apologetic baring of her teeth. “There were a few months where I went a little off the rails.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it was shit. Bullshit.” She clarified with a nod. “Just plants for me now.” She handed him the bowl next to her bed and he took a hit.

“Well, I’m glad you stopped. And you’re just a lazy stoner now.”

“Me too.” They shared a sympathetic smile for a moment.

“Is there anything I can help you with? I mean you sound like you’ve got a lot going on. You can talk to me about anything. You know that right?”

“I know.” She looked away and it made his curiosity grow. “I don’t want to talk about it. I think about it constantly I’d like to take the thoughts out of my head, not working them over more.” She put her fingers to her temples.

“If you need to- want to talk I mean. I'm here. You can.” He reassured her.

“Thanks.” She met his eyes again. “You’re very sweet.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” He whispered and it made her smile. “I feel like a shitty friend. I wanna help but I don’t know what to do.”

“Nothing you can do, hun. Unless you can turn my brain off.”

“That sounds like a weird way of saying kill someone.” He blurted out the intrusive thought.

“It does. Creative.” She chuckled, relieved she could still smile and laugh. Of course, he’d be the one that could force it out of her.

“Well, what do you mean turn it off?”

“I want my racing thoughts to stop. I don’t wanna be so focused on my bullshit that upsets me. I’ve not taken care of myself properly. I’ve not cooked or cleaned or even… taken care of myself.” She admitted with slumped shoulders. “Hell. In any sense of the word.” She rolled her eyes. Eddie chewed his lip, eyes in unintentional puppy mode as he thought about how to help.

“Turn your brain off…” he muttered. “Distraction. Right?”

“Movies don’t work. I’ve tried. Not even the muppets can save me.”

“Okay, so no movies.” He chuckled and tried again. “I’m assuming smoking…?”

“Helps sometimes but then sometimes it makes me focus on it too much.” He frowned but not at her, he was feeling useless. “I don’t mean to shoot your ideas down I’ve just already tried them. I need like- Clockwork Orange tied down and eyes pried open level shit.” She laughed. Eddie’s head perked up.

“We can do that.” He said as if it were a normal Response.

“I wasn’t serious, dude.”

“I’m not gonna pry your eyes open but I can certainly tie you down.” The tone shift in his voice was ever so subtle.

“Are you talking about what I think you are?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking?”

“It always turns to sex with us doesn’t it?” She sighed and didn’t know how she felt about the statement.

“You have to admit it’s a hell of a distraction.” He offered in confidence.

“I’ve not been able to get my mind in the right headspace for it.”

“I like to think I know how to help with that.” he shrugged, sensing her hesitation.

“You do. But my mind’s not in it right now.” she shook her head, and he could see the remnants of circles still under her eyes as she looked away at nothing in particular.

“Sex doesn’t work as a distraction like it used to?”

“I slept with strangers. It didn’t mean anything back then.” she paused, her voice quiet. “So, no.” a sigh followed. Eddie’s chin pushed back into his neck, a giveaway he was uncertain and his mind was processing. Eddie was afraid of the picture he was piecing together in his head of what was wrong. He was slowly convincing himself that it was what he’d been preoccupied with as well. Except he wasn’t hesitant at all. He was ready. More than willing to talk about it. But he could practically feel the wall she’d built around herself again, the same as she’d had when he met her.

“Then how about-” he started with gumption and no idea who he’d finish, hoping something miraculous would come to him as he spoke. But it didn’t. He frowned, slumping back and putting his hands in his lap.

“I know,” she said with the same sadness. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m still trying to be honest. Right now that means that nothing can help me but myself.”

“Do you want me to leave?” the tone made Star’s chest ache for him. She finally met his eyes, finding them just as heartbreaking. She wanted him around, desperately. He wasn’t the problem. She was. And she saw she was dismissing him and his enthusiasm just like every other asshole had. So she reached out to take his hand, he looked at it and felt relieved.

“No.” she shook her head confidently. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just try a movie. I haven’t today. Since I slept maybe it’d be a good time to try again.”

“You have something here you wanna watch?” he perked up, still hesitant but sliding his fingers between hers.

“How about you pick?”

“You sure?”

“Surprise me.”

So they settled in her bed, Eddie behind and her by his side. He only let his arm fall over her side, sometimes he’d hold her hand, lacing fingers together or mindless tracing along her skin. He was gentle and present. That’s what she needed. She silently cried, hiding away from his eyes a few times watching his ringed, larger hands caress her own. She saw how perfectly they laced together. How despite the callouses she found the scratch comforting. Because it was distinctly Eddie. It was getting late, they’d popped in movie after movie. Star was fading fast, worn out from emotion.

“I need to be home when Wayne gets back tonight. Is that okay? Do you need me to stay?”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“Promise.” she gave him a tired, soft smile.

“You need me to take you to school?”

“No, I’m good. Morning drives alone help me clear my head.”

“If you change your mind, call me. I don’t mind.” She smiled up at him like he was her world at that moment. Because he was. He saw the love in her eyes, he felt it in his bones.

“I know,” she whispered and touched his cheek. “I will if I need to. Don’t worry about me.”

“Impossible.” a pure affectionate peck to the lips was laid down on her before he moved to leave. They said goodnight without much fuss. He left her cozy in bed, hoping she’d seem better tomorrow at school.

Star took her cards from her bedside table. She was filled with dread. She figured she’d get insulted again. But she figured it was what she deserved.

“What am I gonna do about him?” she asked.

Death reversed was their answer.

She needed to change. That was clear. She sighed, accepting their take on things. She knew she needed to change, if only she didn’t feel so hopeless about her ability to.

Star had just pulled herself from bed. Her morning tea wasn’t even ready when Robbie knocked on her door.

“It’s me.” a greeting to distinguish him from Eddie. He didn’t want to be greeted by his sister naked or some other horror that would be burnt into his retinas.

“C’mon.” he heard from inside. He lugged his large body into the trailer, seeing her hair still a mess from sleep. She was barely awake.

“I’ve got bad news,” he stated flatly. He didn’t know how else to start this conversation. Star’s eyes moved the piece of paper in his hand. “I’m not good at this shit,” he mumbled, holding it up and looking at it.

“What is it?” she turned the stove burner off, her eyes already large and full of fear.

“Uh…” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Pretty much the worst news you could get apart from someone you care about dying.” his face was apologetic, hard, and indifferent trying to prepare himself for what was about to happen. “You want me to read it or do you want to?” She held out her hand and took the paper, it shook as she turned it toward herself. He watched her face fall and it broke his heart to see it. The color drained from it visibility. She wobbled and let herself knock against the counter for support. The paper made an audible sound as it shook in her hand.

“Already?” her voice broke, it was small and terrified.

“Good behavior it says.” he elaborated, poised to catch her if she fell.

“It’s too soon,” she whispered, tears hot and silently falling. She said it only to force it into existence, the truth of it. She knew there would be no answers from Robbie.

“Read to the end,” he said stepping closer. She did so and felt a hiccup caught in her chest. She put the paper down, her eyes red and streaming, but her face remained untelling. She was in shock. “You can go and speak against it. He might not be granted it. It’s not a for sure thing.” he tried to help, he really did. But there was no help for something like this. All there was was to feel it.

“I have to go tell more fucking strangers about what he did to me?” Her face broke, the facade falling away as her lips trembled and her hands started to tremor. “I have to talk about it. Out loud to a row of fucking suits who don’t give a shit. A row of MEN. And tell them how the man that’s right in front of them... in front of ME -oh god I’ll have to see him. Fuck, he’ll see ME.” sobs took her over as she collapsed against the comfort of her older brother. He’d held her every time she’d cried about her ex up to this point. At least when it came to dealing with the legal aspect of it. Robbie wasn’t an emotional guy. He was no match for dealing with a baby sister with a broken heart, let alone a baby sister who had fought so hard and relieved so much horror to get the guy that did it put away. And now they’re saying they might let him out. For good behavior. Robbie shook his head, as angry as Star was hurt. There was no simple answer to this. This was going to be messy and terrible no matter how it ended.

Eddie felt shitty all morning. He hadn’t seen Star before class and he couldn’t see her car in the parking lot. He felt uneasy about it. She said she’d be there. A snap in front of his face drew him out of his low-browed concern.

“Dude. Hello?” Gareth waved exaggeratedly in his face next to him at the lunch table.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“What’s up with you?” Dustin asked boldly. Eddie blinked, pausing before deciding how to answer that.

“You all would give me shit for it if I told you.” everyone was concerned now, seeing his face solemn and serious.

“All the more reason to tell us.” Mike grinned wide.

“Star’s not here. And she said she’d be here. I saw her last night and she seemed…okay enough. I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.”

“She’s been weird as hell lately, man. I’m sure it’s fine.” Gareth waves his hand to dismiss the worry.

“You think something’s wrong?” Dustin asked more seriously, zeroing in on Eddie.

“I don’t know how to explain it. And don’t fucking make fun of me for saying this but she and I have this… connection and we know when the other is not okay.”

“Awww.” Jeff teased. “Cute.”

“And you’re feeling that now?” Dustin ignored the light-hearted teasing, and so did Eddie.

“Yeah.” a quit nod, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Then go?” Dustin stated obviously.

“Yeah?” Eddie perked up a bit a the support.

“Listen I don’t know what the hell I believe, but if she can find you when you’re getting beat up. I don’t think you knowing when something is wrong is that crazy.” he threw his hands up in exasperation for not knowing the answer to something.

“You’re right,” Eddie said immediately jumping into action. “I got sick if anyone asks. Not that anyone gives a shit.” he shrugged and shook his head, already walking away.

Eddie pulled up, a bit recklessly as the sight of Robbie on the stoop smoking wasn’t giving him any reason to feel relief.

“What happened?”

Robbie looked confused, his head turning at the wild-looking young man.

“Did she call you?” he asked.

“No. I just… she wasn’t at school and I felt something was wrong.” he shrugged, and Robbie saw in his face was just as lost as he was about that statement.

“She’s in the trailer. I don’t know if you wanna see her like this.”

“Robbie,” he stated, now mere steps away from the dauntingly sized man. “I’m in love with your sister. I want to see her no matter what’s going on,” he said with such conviction, fully with his chest that Robbie sat up straight at the effect the words had. Robbie nodded, taking another drag and his time. Proud of Eddie for saying it out loud. He hope he was right about it.

“It’s bad.” Robbie solemnly said with a nod, looking away.

“Did someone die?” Eddie was frazzled, his shoulders tense and up near his ears.

“You’ll need to calm down and gather yourself before you go in there. She’s a mess so you’ll need to be the strong one.”

“Who died?”

“No one. Unfortunately.” The hate for Bobby was clear in his voice.

“Oh no,” Eddie whispered, getting a feeling from his tone.

“Yeah. Him again.” Robbie was as mad as Eddie had ever seen him. Robbie was subtle, always. But a clear clench of jaw gave enough away. “We got a letter saying he was up for parole.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Eddie put his hand over his mouth in shock, his voice a rasp, rhetorical.

“For good behavior.” Robbie let out a rather chaotic laugh. A break in his calm exterior. “Imagine that.” he rolled his eyes and threw his head back.

“Will he come after her? Does he know where she is? Do we-?” a million questions, and all right pass through Eddie’s head as quickly as they fall out of his mouth. Robbie held up his hand to stop him.

“She can talk to the board at the hearing and tell them why he shouldn’t be released.”

“Shit.” he bent over, his hands on his knees. “This just keeps getting better.” he hung his head and let out a guttural groan of frustration.

“That’s what I thought too.” Robbie was flat again, eyes staring into the far treeline.

“Fuck she’s got to be…” he stood facing the trailer, hands to his cheeks.

“A train wreck,” Robbie said flatly, looking down at the cracked cement beneath him.

“I already couldn’t help her. She was already feeling bad. I don’t…” he shrugged, his arms slapping against his sides sloppily. “What do I fuckin’ do, man?” he was raw and honest, his face showing his frustration as he looked to Robbie for help.

“All you can do is be there.” he shook his head. “We’re helpless. Useless right now.” he sucked his teeth. “I’ve been through this before. In a way.” he shrugged subtly. “You listen. You hold her. You tell her you’ll be there for it all. That she’s not alone. That you’ll do anything you can to help. Because she knows it’s all on her. Again.” he put his hands over his face, feeling the threat of tears in his eyes. “Shit,” he whispered. “She doesn’t deserve to go through this again.” his head shook but his hands remained. “Just when she was starting to get her shit together.” he groaned, a tiny release of the hot anger he felt inside.

“I’ll stay with her.” Eddies voice was calm and quiet, knowing he had to be the one to keep it together for both of them right now. They’d been through enough.

“Yeah, go on kid.” Robbie motioned his head toward the trailer. “If you’re gonna be with her…” he sighed and lowered his hands. “Then this is your role now.”

“I know.” Eddie was still quiet, eyes moving but not focused. “I’ve got this.” he hyped himself up, a small jump and shake before making his way to her door. He could hear her crying. He put his hand to the door, pausing and swallowing. He closed his eyes, a deep breath to center himself. He opened the door and she was up against the wood that held her bed in place. Her Legs stretched out in front of her, her shoulders slumped as she stared at nothing, totally disconnected from anything around her.

“Is it already 3?” she asked once she registered someone had walked into her space. She blinked at Eddie slowly, as if she was moving in slow motion.

“No, sweetheart.” he kneeled on the floor with her. “When you didn’t show up for school I knew something was wrong. I felt it. So I came here.”

“It’s bad, Eddie.” She whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. She paused, her eyes eventually swinging to his.

“I know.” He took her hand. “Robbie told me.” he offered an outstretched arm and she took the invitation. Too weak to say no to one of the few people who could bring her any comfort right now. She crawled into his chest and he thumped against the counters, letting his legs stretch out and making room to hold her.

“Everything?” She asked after she settled, her head against his shoulder.

“The letter. Parole. Good behavior. You having to tell them why he shouldn’t be granted it.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was small. The lack of outburst was more worrisome than if she’d been screaming. It was quiet, her eyes would move every so often, mostly a dead stare ahead, unfocused.

“I know asking if you’re okay is a stupid question but how are you? You’re… not acting how I expected.” He confessed into her hair.

“How am I supposed to act?” She genuinely didn’t know.

“I… don’t know.” He admitted quietly, voice trailing off.

“I think I’m broken.” Her voice lacked the exuberance he loved. It was monotone, flat, lifeless.

“You know that’s not true.”

“I mean I think I’ve felt all the feelings I can in my life and I can't feel anything anymore.”

“That’s shock.” He explained with pursed lips.

“I cried and screamed a lot earlier.”

“That makes sense.”

“Now it’s like I don’t feel anything. But I do. I feel so much I can’t feel it anymore.”

“You’re probably exhausted.” He put his hand on her forehead to check to see if she was warm.

“I am.” She finally moved. A deep breath as she let her head sag. “I don’t know how much I’m supposed to take. I went through all the legal stuff and now I have to tell strange men who are being fooled just like I was that he’s a good guy about all the shit he did. When is it enough?”

“The system is fucked.“ he grumbled. “You are unfortunately a member of an oppressed group who has been thrown into the shit show of the American legal system. I have no good answers. It fucking sucks.” She felt his anger, heat from his chest into her hand. It oddly comforted her. “I can say I’m sorry. But it doesn’t fix it or help. It just really fucking sucks. I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. You’re not the only one. Any woman who’s ever been brave enough to stand against her abuser is fucking crucified for what feels like entertainment and asked to do it over and over again. It’s bullshit. They won’t just fucking listen to you and believe you even when you’re bleeding and screaming.” She felt him hum and vibrate with anger and vengeance. He saw her eyes widen at his words. “Sorry, I’m just… I’m really angry and trying not to be because that doesn’t help you.”

“I don’t think there is any helping me.”

“I want to. So bad. I wanna fix it. I want this to go away for you. You know that right ?” His eyes were a bit desperate and Star found sanctuary in them. He put his hand on her cheek, a tickling exhale on her face as he put his forehead to hers.

“So do I.” She whispered. “I don’t know what to do, Eddie.” His chest held a dull ache for her.

“I do.” He pulled away, then kissed her forehead. “You’re going to go to that meeting. You’re gonna tell them the truth. You’ve been having a rehearsal for this in therapy for over a year right? You’ve got this. You’re gonna tell them the truth and they’re not going to let him out. And you can put it behind you and live your life again.”

“It’s not that simple.” Her lashes fluttered, touched by his conviction.

“It can be. It could be. This could be the period at the end of the sentence that’s been your healing. You can purge it all. Start over.” He was very convincing.

“I’ve done it before and it didn’t fix it.”

“You’ve done it before so you KNOW you can do it.” He saw the wheels turning, her face finally moving into readable expressions.

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

“You’re even better equipped this time. You’ve been able to have therapy about it. You did your first draft, right? The first time? You’ve edited now, with therapy. And now you have a better version this time.”

“I… guess so.” Her brow creased.

“I do.” He held her chin up before she could cower. “I know you can.”

“You do?”

“Bet my life on it.” He insisted with a push forward of his face. “I know you Star. You can do anything. You can do this.”

“I can?”

“You can.” He put his forehead to hers again in an affectionate touch. “I believe in you. You’ve gotta believe in yourself.”

“I need them to believe me.”

“They will.”

“You don’t know that.” He put his fingers to her lips.

“Someone very powerful once told me you don’t say what you’re afraid of out loud. You don’t give it power. You say what you want to happen out loud and it will. So I’m doing that. They’ll believe you and you’ll feel better for having done it. And it’ll help you move past it. And he’ll be put away for a long time again and you’ll be free.” He took one of her hands into his, pulling it to his chest.

“They’ll believe me.” She said softly, looking away. “He won’t get out.” He saw the lump in her throat bob. “It’s so scary up there alone.” Her eyes turned quickly to his, still scared.

“You won’t be alone. I’ll come with you. You won’t have to take the stand like before. It’s not as formal. I can be there with you. You want me there with you?”

“Would you?” He saw the hope flicker in her eyes.

“Of course, I would baby. Are you kidding?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “I might only be good for bad jokes to break the tension and a hand to hold but I'll be the best damn hand you’ve ever held.” Their smiles grew together, foreheads slowly meeting again as she let out a tiny sniffle.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, a shakey inhale as he mirrored her subtle enthusiasm.

“Yeah?” She felt a roll of her stomach in the way his eyes lit up for her.

“Yeah.” She gave him a closed mouth sad smile. But it was miles from where he expected her to be right now. “I need you with me.” She confessed with downturned eyes.

“Then I’ll be there.” He promised with a kiss to her cheek before pulling her into his chest and holding her tight. She felt relief at first, a weight lifted off her shoulders. Then, reality set in. She still had to do this.

She had a few weeks. She’d been aloof, in a different way than before. One that Eddie now understood. Star spent her time writing in a new journal. Purging everything bad memory she could think of of her nightmare relationship. She divulged this to Eddie, so he understood her not-so-chipper mood. She asked for space instead of being passive-aggressive about it. There was a weight of honesty to the situation now. But Star couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

She was sad, tired, and feeling embarrassed. Every bad thing he did that she added to the pages made her remember the things he’d drilled into her head. She saw how he’d manipulated her over time. She was faced with what he’d turned her into. A shadow of herself. She was different now. And she wasn’t entirely convinced it was a good difference. Her dreams were filled with Bobby. Hearing the things she still struggled to not believe about herself. She found herself finding proof of his words in her behavior. She saw her need for Eddie as selfish. Wondering if she was using him. She felt like a fraud waiting to be found out as she deep-dived into her trauma. She remembered who she was and the bad decisions she made. The names she’d called herself at her lowest felt like name badges she still wore but only covered with a bright sweater of bull shit she pretended to be now. She was still the sad scared little girl. She wasn’t a survivor she was a victim and always would be. She was fooling herself and everyone around her. Star was drowning in a pool of her own making.

Eddie was feeling hopeful. A light at the end of the tunnel is how he was looking at it. She would be able to put it behind her as she wrote in her journal and moved all those bad memories out of her head and onto paper. Love blinded him to the state Star was in. He thought of her as being in a cocoon stage. And she’d break out dramatically and be ready to start a new life. With him. To be so jaded, the follies of youth were heavy upon Eddie. He was in love. His rose-colored glasses made him not see just how deeply brainwashed and traumatized the object of his affections had been. This wasn’t a case of an ordinary drunk, violent abuser. Bruises were easier to heal than unseen damage. Star had been the victim of a groomer and a narcissist. Eddie didn’t know the depth of which this man tore Star down. But he would soon.

Steve’s lips were pressed together tightly. Too distracted to pretend to watch the movie. He clicked the large television off, a snap and buzz that snapped the guy next to him out of his disassociated stare.

Eddie’s eyes fluttered, dry from not blinking as he’d been entirely in his head. He turned to Steve with large eyes, looking across the couch they sat on together.

“What?” Was how he chose to ask why Steve randomly shut down the movie.

“Your leg hasn’t stopped bouncing this entire movie.” He stated with a snap, an exasperated arm out with the remote still in his hand towards Eddie's bare knee in his ripped denim. “And I’m pretty sure you’re gonna get my ass kicked when you get blood on my couch from picking your damn nails!” He crossed his arms in a huff.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered, looking down and putting his hands fully into his lap. “Sorry, man. I do it without thinking.” He looked at the irritated perimeters of his nail beds.

“I think that your thinking is exactly what the problem is.” Eddie blinked slowly, before lowering his head, his eyes still on Steve’s disapproving face.

“You think?” Eddie sarcastically answered.

“Let me help you, man. I give great advice if anyone would just listen to me.” He exclaimed wearily. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Star,” Eddie answered plainly. “What else is new?”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Go on, Dr. Steve is in session now.”

“Dr. Steve?” Eddie snorted.

“Shut up and talk.” Steve snapped his fingers. Eddie laughed at the ironic choice of words. Steve was his funniest when he wasn’t trying.

“Fine.” Eddie groaned and slouched back into the couch. “She’s found herself being called back into enemy territory.”

“If you’re upset about D and D again man, I’m gonna lose it. You can’t STAY mad about a game that YOU made up!”

“Nah it’s real this.” Eddie frowned with tight lips. He began with their interaction from the other day before the big blow-up with parole.

“So I offer to help give her a distraction.” Eddie raised his brows and Steve knee what he meant. “But she said no.”

“Weird. Not like her to turn you down.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Eddie said with his hands out, now turned to face Steve who was also turned in his seat. “Then she said it was sex with strangers from before that she used to cope. But that it didn’t mean anything back then.”

“Meaning it does now?” Steve leaned forward excitedly.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t reading into that too much. I really thought I was.”

“No, you know her she’s either too honest or speaks in riddles like some bridge troll.” Eddie laughed at the comparison he could relate to. He went on to explain in a short way the parole situation with Star.

“That… sucks, man. Royally.”

“I told her I’d go with her. Of course.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded with enthusiastic support. “Good man.” He slapped Eddie’s arm. Eddie was a physical guy but the harsh masculine affection of Steve’s jock past still caught him off guard on occasion.

“And then she says she needs me with her.”

“Promising.” Steve tapped his chin.

“And that’s not even the biggest thing that’s happened.” Eddie’s face was a mix of exhausted and hopeful as he explained Valentine’s night.

“Holy shit.” Steve’s hands were on his cheeks, in disbelief and enrapture led with gossip and drama. He did miss this part of school. “And she’s not mentioned it?”

“Not a word.”

“She started acting weird right after?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop.

“I would bet money she remembers. That’s why she’s been so distant.” He clapped his hands together as if he’d solved the case.

“She’s been so hot and cold. But she’s going through a lot.”

“True. She’s not exactly - and don’t take this the wrong way but - the most stable person I know.”

“It’s one of the things I think I like most about her.” He grinned. “When you’ve got someone that makes you feel like you’re not the crazy one all the time it’s nice. You get to take turns. Make each other feel more normal.”

“That’s… sweet?” Steve didn’t try to hide the effort it took to be nice about it. “It would keep things interesting.” He offered more genuinely. “Does that get tiring though?”

“Yeah. But… I love her man. What other choice do I have?” Steve gave a broad smile that was warm with nostalgia, looking down to feel good memories wash over him.

“That I can relate to.” He nodded, shoulders slumped and hands tapping together in thought. “I vote you tell her. But you know this.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Eddie nodded. “I can’t help but feel hopeful about it. And that’s why I wonder if it’s all in my head. It seems too good to be true. All these things building up, this parole thing where she’s purging all these memories and she can let go once he’s locked away again. It leads right into us being together right? Or am I totally delusional? Which isn’t far-fetched.”

“No, I’m with you man. I think it’s all leading up to a point. You said she’s done all that work in therapy. This should be like… a final presentation!” He clapped his hands together as he found his example. “She’s done the school work, you do the big final test and you’re home free!” He exclaimed with his hands raised.

“That’s kinda how I felt about it too.” Eddie agreed earnestly. “She’s been studying. She’s doing so good. She’s feeling strong and capable and she’s got me and her brother there with her and she should be like… ready? Ya know.”

“It’s been… how long. It was a school year ago then she’s been here since… June? So…” Steve tapped his fingers subtly to count the months.

“A year and a half?” Eddie offered.

“That’s long enough with the therapy and moving away and stuff, right? You can get over someone after that long. Especially when you have someone else you’re in love with now. Right?”

“I hope so, man. Or else I’m gonna feel like the biggest idiot to ever live.”

“You already are.”

“Thanks.”

“You have nothing to lose.” Steve grinned. “That’s a good thing in this instance!”

“That isn’t as helpful as you think it is.”

“Sure it is.” Steve shrugged and chuckled. “Even if I didn’t know she loved you. And I do. I’d still think she loves you. I think you should go for it. Maybe she’d feel better having a boyfriend with her facing the old one ya know? Maybe some jealousy? Some girl power stuff yanno with- see? I can find someone else! I don’t need you!” His voice switched to a higher feminine tone and Edie snorted in amusement. “She’s into that whole feminism thing right?” The guy's heart was in the right place.

“It makes sense yeah.” Eddie hesitantly agreed. “Maybe feeling secure will help her.”

“Also that.” Steve nodded. “What more secure than being in a relationship with someone you’re in love with that’s also in love with you?”

“A jar of money buried in an unmarked spot in the yard?” Eddie wore a goofy grin.

“A what? You’re so weird sometimes man.” Steve shook his head.

“It means I agree.” Eddie lied to placate Steve. “It’s a poor people thing Steve don’t worry about it.” He pats the other guy's knee.

“Oh okay. What I said still stands.”

“As much as my cynical heart wants to tear apart all your reasons… I think you’re right.”

Star was acutely aware of how each day got her closer to the parole hearing. She was feeling especially raw and vulnerable. She didn’t know who was on her mind more as the days went along, Eddie or Bobby. She felt so deeply for Eddie, knowing he was there for her if she needed him. Knowing he believed in her. But Bobby kept her afraid. Afraid of losing Eddie, of losing herself. She was paralyzed, stuck somewhere between her past and a possible future.

She’d left the haunting journal at home. She got out of the house and drove, finding a little thrift shop and taking her mind off things. But Eddie found her in the oddest of ways. Flicking through a milk crate of worn records she finds one that looks like something Wayne might be into. She turned the single over, a smile on her face.

“Eddie.” She sighed. She stood, knowing the record was there for her to find.

She was home, the 45 spinning, set to repeat. The needle clicked and cracked every time it finished that side. She stood, leaning on the counter in deep thought, watching the hypnotic spin of the record, considering how to handle the polar opposite swirls of emotions in her head.

And as if on cue, her future walks through the door with a warm smile and the most beautiful brown eyes she’s ever seen.

“Hello, little hermit crab.” He smiled at her with a warmth that made her chest thaw.

“H-hey.” She switched the player to off in a clumsy snapped movement.

“You good?” A lifted brown questioned her but she nodded wordlessly.

“I mean…” she gave a little shrug. “Not the worst.”

“Not the worst is good!” He clapped his hands to her arms supportively and it made her crack a sweet smile. “Yeah?” She soaked in his enthusiasm and let it make her feel better.

“Yeah.” She gave him another soft smile.

“You’ve been huddled away for over a week, I figured I’d come do a wellness check. Make sure the cats weren’t eating your fingers and face.”

“They would.” He got a laugh out of her.

“You do taste pretty good. In their defense.” He got her cheeks to rise and eyes to shrink into happy half-moons.

“I’m doing okay given the circumstances. There’s a week left and I’m trying not to let it overwhelm me since I’ve already put so much into it. I might make a list. I think having something to keep me on track is a good idea.”

“Baby, as good of an idea as that is. I’m here to distract. Provide some relief. We’re not gonna think about that for a little while. Okay?”

“I could stand to spare a few hours.” She nodded and let out a tense exhale.

“There’s my girl.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “What have you been doing this week?” He said as he pulled her into his chest. “Besides the obvious. “ he let her settle against him, hand around his waist and cheek to his chest. Something simple and comforting. “I didn’t see your car around the other day. You go somewhere?”

“Yeah, I went on a drive to clear my head.”

“Weathers nice for it right now.” She felt him nod above her.

“Perfect for having the windows cracked and music loud.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I just drove.” She said in an exhale. “For hours.”

“One of those drives.” he nodded. “The thinkers.”

“I didn’t get back until almost dawn. But I felt better.”

“I noticed your car wasn’t around for a while but I didn’t wanna seem like a stalker saying your car was unaccounted for for 12 hours on the night of the 11th.” He gave a fake newscaster voice and she pulled away with a smile.

“It’s nice to have someone notice.” She gave an almost shrug. “It’s very sweet that you care enough to notice.”

“Can’t have you going and running off on me. Then who’d I annoy all the time?” He gave her a smile that crinkles his nose, looking down at her and leaning in closer.

“I’m not gonna run.” She shook her head l, hair and face soft. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You can run.” He said supportively. “You just have to come back.” He chuckled, his hands still on her waist. She melted for a weak moment, he saw her face soften and then shy from the emotion it was giving away so freely.

“I don’t wanna run away.” She looked away, out the window in the kitchen to the field.

“I don’t want you to either.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She shut her eyes and swallowed audibly. “Did you not find anything cool on your adventure? Usually, when someone runs away you have some cool stories when you get back. Tell me your hero's journey Star.” He shook his head, his chin high as he used his DM voice.

“I don’t think it’s running when you plan on coming back.” She grinned. “A few tiny gas ancient stations.”

“Oh, my favorite.”

“Dusty and creepy just how you like them.”

“I like a good carbon dating through layers of dust location.” He chuckled.

“I stopped at a few mom-and-pop stores but I didn’t have much money on me so I didn’t get much. Poor foresight on my behalf.”

“You take the money. Then you run. Did you not listen to Steve Miller?” He saw it, the flash of teeth and the bounce of her chest and shoulders. A real laugh.

“Don’t lecture me on Steve Miller Band lyrics, Eddie, I know them better than you do.” A playful spark existed as she hopped on her tiptoes in playful aggression.

“Fine, fine. What’d you get?”

“I found a cool bracelet and a quilt with star patterns on it and some old records.”

“Oh, records? Is that what this is? This new?” He turned and touched the record player, seeing the needle still on it.

“Yeah. One of them.” She held up a 33-sized record, some girls in the back of a car with very dated hairstyles looked back at him.

“The Chordettes?” He said allowed, mostly rhetorical.

“I saw this and it looked familiar and they’re the girls that did that Mr. Sandman song. You know, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream bum bum bum bum…” she shyly sang.

“The malt shop music.” He chuckled.

“Yeah. It looked like something Wayne would like. Then I found a 45 by them too in the same bin.” She pointed to the record currently on the platform. “They’re from the fifties and this one has just one song on each side. The other side is a little too gospel sounding but this one…” she stopped and a curious smile came across her face. “This one is also on the 33. It was one of their top hits, turns out. They’re in my Billboard chart book.”

“Is it any good?” He asked looking at the worn label and seeing nothing discernible.

“It’s…” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and he tilted his head at her curiously. “When I saw this song on the record I knew I had to buy it.”

“Must be good then.” He switched the machine on and dropped the needle to the beginning. “You been listening to this a lot?” He asked innocently enough before the singing started. “The switch is set to repeat.” He saw Star's face go a bit pale, her lips parted but not speaking.

“Eddie my love.” The song sang as his eyes widened at hearing his name. “I love you so.” The women chirped at him.

“They’re saying-?”

“Eddie.” She nodded. “Yeah.” It was bashful and soft. She turned the back of the 33 in her hand toward him. “I saw your name and the song and I knew I had to show you.” The song continued to give away more than she meant.

“How I’ve wanted for you, you’ll never know. Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.” The women sang.

Eddie's cheeks flushed but so did Star’s.

“You found this by chance? At some random store on a random drive?”

“Yeah.” She huffed out a happy sound. He chewed his lip as she still didn’t meet his gaze.

“Eddie please, write just one line. Tell me your love is, still only mine. Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.” The women were mocking how Star felt. The song continued with more yearning than you could poke a stick at. Full of handfuls of Eddie my love, I love you so. Please Eddie don’t make me wait too long. They stood and listened, neither daring to make the next move.

“You finding this seems like a hell of a coincidence.” He said as the record crackled, the needle moving back to the beginning. The women started their taunting all over again.

“Could be.” She said lightly.

“You know you’re the one that says there are no coincidences. Only signs.” He repeated her words back to her.

“I do say that.” She answered tightly.

“Do you think it was a sign that you found this?” A bold question that sent Star's heartbeat racing.

“I mean…” she gulped, her face concentrated. “It depends on what sign I was asking for when I found it.” She offered with high brows or uncertainty. “Was I thinking of finding some music? Something for Wayne or you or… was it… something else?” Her voice unintentionally cracked with nervous strain.

“Something else?” His voice was fading in confidence.

“What I usually ask for is guidance.” A truthful answer. “I’ve needed that a lot lately.” She divulged. “I got out and drove to clear my head. I didn’t ask to be shown anything that day but… other days, you know, I ask for signs to help me figure things out.” Her chin jutted forward nervously as she spoke.

“And you found this.” He stated, watching the record turn. She only nodded. “This very… sweet song. With my name in it.”

“It is sweet.” She quietly agreed.

“Would it help give you any clarity on things you’re trying to figure out?” Another nod, small and fast full of anxiety, almost a spasm. “You’ve been asking for clarity about…me?” He sees her eyes grow large and freeze, her nostrils flaring.

“Yeah.” She stared at his chest, frozen in fear. Her voice barely came out with how tight her body was.

“And this song…?”

“Yeah.” She said louder, but still not at a normal talking volume. “It’s hard to ignore signs when they make it so… obvious.” Her eyes moved, wide to wide in thought. He lifted her chin and she still didn’t meet his eyes.

“You tried to ignore other signs?” She nodded and looked away ashamed.

“I didn't know what to do. I ignored it.”

“Until you couldn’t anymore.” She met his eyes then, she saw he knew what she meant.

“I tried. I can’t.” she sounded utterly defeated.

“You know… it’s funny.” He huffed out softly. “I tried for a while to ignore it too.”

“You did?” Her eyes fully widened and bore into him as he took the turn to not meet hers.

“But you went and made it impossible.” He spoke so gently, feeling her hands tremor against them. He ran his palms over her, taking one of her hands into his, the other hugging her to him. He stepped out and began to slow dance with her to the song.

“I’m…” she wanted to apologize. No one should be falling in love with her. By choice or force. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She felt tears, full of confusion and fear start to build in her eyes. Her cheeks here pinked and hot.

“No, no, no, baby.” He shushed so sweetly, kissing her cheek. “Star.” She sighed and watched him look her over, eyes seeing the damp lashes and the shimmery moss of her eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He looked as vulnerable as he felt. She answered him with a small sob, shaking her head. “You are.” He kissed her cheek again, now wet and salty from a drop of tears.

“I’m not. I’m not even good. Let alone…” she gulped. “That.” she strained out.

“And who said that? Huh?” his chin raised, looking at her with a lecturing tone. “Bobby?” he almost snarled saying his name.

Star unexpectedly to him broke into a sob, lowering her head.

“You can’t let him keep running your life,” he said with conviction.

“I don’t want him to!” she cried. “I’m so sorry I don’t know how to stop it.” she shook her head, her hair hanging over her face in an attempt to hide.

“You can.” he says louder, holding her cheeks and not letting her escape. “You have. Look how far you’ve come.” he shook her cheeks in emphasis. “Looks how far WE’VE come.” his eyes were sad but his words were sharp. “You’re… practically with someone else. You’ve fallen in love with someone who’s even more in love with you.” he watched her screw her eyes shut as more tears forced their way out and down her mushed cheeks. “Isn’t that enough?” the worry was apparent as he swallowed, eyes darting and his mouth going dry.

She opened her eyes to meet his, brow turned and searching. She fluttered her lashes in question.

“Isn’t me loving you enough?” he asked desperately. “Doesn’t being in love mean you beat him? You won? You have proof you’re not a bad person. I love you, you're amazing. You’re everything I could want.”

“Just because you believe it doesn’t mean I do.” she quivered out with a hiccup. “I had years of him in my head. I’ve not known you for even a year. Maybe you don’t know the real me and I am a piece of shit.” she shrugged and he dropped his hands from her face, the rejection clear on his face.

“Star you’re being ridiculous.” his voice was quiet, the shine of tears in his eyes saying more than his words.

“No I’m not!” she said fully defensive, a half step away, a hand to her chest.

“Star, I love you. I’m in love with you. Just let me in!” he fists his hands together and shook them in an attempt to not shake her himself.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out in response.

“Don’t you love me too?” he was leaning forward, hands shaking, torn between holding her and wanting to hit something. The question hung in the air unanswered. “Tell me you love me too.” she stood with closed eyes, she bent over with a sob, covering her face. “Please.” a desperate attempt to reach her.

Her head shook in answer, too ashamed to answer him.

“Star don’t.” his voice was strong and dark a surge of anger growing. ”I know you do. I KNOW.” he pointed a finger at her, towering over her.

She looked at him, her face a mess and he still found her beautiful. He felt his stomach turn in realization.

“Star don’t do this, baby please don’t do this to me.” he rasped out, tears starting to fall.

“I can’t say it back,” she whispered, shaking her head half intentionally, half from the intense emotions she felt coursing through her body.

“Why not? If you say you don’t love me you’re a liar.” his voice cracked as his chest heaved. “I see it when you look at me. I feel it in my fucking chest. You even told me when you were drunk!” he screeched. “Don’t lie to me Star! You love me! Don’t lie to me!” he shouted.

“Not saying it isn’t me lying!” the first sign of her being her own person rose, her voice with more conviction behind it.

“So now just not telling someone something isn’t a lie?” he snarked back, his face drawn and angry.

“If I said I didn’t… then I would be lying.” she gritted her teeth as she spoke.

“SEE! YOU DO! Just say it god dammit!” he broke, a sob choking him as he said it a bit crazed, begging her with outstretched hands.

“So? I’m just going to disappoint you. I am right now. I told you I can’t do this!” her hands flung down to her sides, her body stiff. “I told you from the very start!” she squeaked out, staring him down and terrified. “I’m fucking this up just like he said I would. You’re finding out what a piece of shit I am now. This is me!” she put her hands to her chest and hit herself for emphasis.

“You don’t want to acknowledge he was wrong because then you’d have to really open yourself up to being hurt by someone who isn’t a piece of shit. And you’re too afraid to.” he hissed back, entirely defensive now.

She gawked with an open mouth at his brutal honesty.

“Because we love each other. And I love you, every part of you. Even this part that believes this bullshit.” he laughed a touch crazed, wiping his cheeks. “I love you so much it makes me angry. And I know you love me. You’ve told me. In so many ways. But I can’t do this roller coaster emotional shit and get my hopes up for you to pussy out.” he bit with flared nostrils. Star blinked, frozen in shock.

“I can’t say it back why are you so angry?” her voice back a whisper.

“Because I can’t be just friends with you or act like I’m not in love with you anymore.” he laughed as if it were obvious, his hands thrown into the air. “Because you’re being a coward by not saying it when you know it’s true.” his eyes were wide, brows high and his body shaking. “I’m asking so little.” he groaned. “I’m mad because the idea that you wouldn’t be my girlfriend when you act like my fucking wife is ridiculous.” he slapped his hands in the air. “Because there’s no reason! No real reason we shouldn’t be together!” his voice cracked as he shouted, turning away from her. “Except that you’re a coward who won’t just fucking live your life. Instead, you're letting an imaginary voice in your head keep you from being happy. Because I would make you so happy Star.” he shook his head, nearly a vibration with how his body was thrumming.

“You do make me happy!” her lip trembled and another sob broke.

“Then stop lying to me!” he cried, covering his face for a moment. “Hell, and yourself! I don’t know this Star, this isn’t who I fell in love with. I don't know who this is but it isn’t you. You've shown me the real you when you forget to sabotage yourself. This isn't her, it's not you. You're getting in your own way.” he said with tear-stained cheeks, face on full display as he leaned toward her.

“It is. That’s the problem. I told you. I told you I can’t do this.” she said softly, too soft for how much she cared.

“But you want to?” he tried to clarify with clutched hands towards her.

“YES!” she shouted.

“Then do it!”

“I CANT!” she screamed back, both of their chests heaving.

“You know what?” he shouted into his hands, rubbing his face before they slapped to his sides. “ I can’t do this.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“This." he motioned his hands wildly. "Whatever this is." he stepped backward toward the door, still facing her.

“I'm sorry.” she looked as disappointed as she felt.

“When you're ready to admit the truth,” he said with a pointed finger. “I'll be here. I'll be all in, Star….” He shook his head sternly. “But until then I'm done.” he shrugged, and turned, letting the door slam shut behind him.

He heard the sound of her falling to her knees on the floor. Just like he heard her sobbing, saying his name, and apologizing. He stood at the van door, hand on the handle. He let his head rest on the cold glass for a moment, wiping his tears away with his jacket sleeve and sniffling. He waited, and caught his breath. But she didn’t come after him. It was his turn to take the sign. So he left.

PART 21

(I'm sorry. It had to be done.)

BUT if you enjoyed it, reblogs, likes and comments help IMMENSELY.

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crockettmarcel · 7 months

Text

thank you to my beloved @terramous for helping me with this !! I literally couldn't have finished it without you <3

wc: 3498 warnings: alcohol, roofie, emetophobia (brief)

also available on ao3

Crockett rubs his eyes as he looks down at the screen in front of him. He’s been working on this essay for almost six hours today, and he’s not even halfway to the word count. Every paragraph he writes gets deleted less than a minute later, and at this point, he’s convinced he doesn’t even know how to string a sentence together anymore.

He glances down at the clock in the bottom corner of his laptop screen. 01:02. His whole body aches from exhaustion, and if it weren’t for the fact that this essay is due at nine a.m. today, he’d have been in bed over three hours ago. The way it’s going though, he can only see himself finishing it if he pulls an all-nighter.

There’s a bag of coffee beans in one of his desk drawers — Robusta espresso beans, Sarah had emphasised when she gave them to him — and for the first time, they actually sound appealing. Most of the time, Sarah’s caffeine addiction concerns him, but not tonight. He leans down and pulls the drawer open. The beans are sitting in a ziplock bag on top of a stack of notebooks he has yet to make use of, and when he lifts them out, he quickly reads the instructions written in thick black marker on the front of the bag.

5x every hour to stay up all night! enjoy :•)

Sarah’s handwriting is small and neat, almost font-like, and he admires it as he pulls the bag open and grabs a couple of beans. They don’t smell particularly strong, and he pops them in his mouth before he can change his mind. Just as expected, they’re bitter, worse than the singular cup of black coffee he tried at Nat’s insistence way back in freshman year, and he has to resist the urge to spit them out. He’s happy with his mocha frappuccinos, or preferably, a can of Red Bull. Bitter coffee beans aren’t ideal, but needs must.

He finishes chewing and swallows, then grabs the half-empty water bottle from his desk and chugs it, desperate to get the taste out of his mouth. Sarah didn’t specify if you had to eat all five beans in one sitting, or if it was five over the course of an hour, and he hopes it’s the latter. He’s not sure if he can cope with another three right now.

The bright white of his near-empty Word document stares defiantly at him, and he takes a moment to consider whether he can hand in the worst essay he’s ever written and still pass this class. He thinks so. After popping a piece of gum in his mouth and taking one last sip of water, he starts typing again.

The vibration of his phone is all the distraction he needs after 35 badly written words. For a second, he considers ignoring it, but when he looks over to see who’s calling, he decides the essay can wait. Sarah Reese, the screen reads, and something in his gut tells him he needs to answer.

Buzzing with his own newfound and potentially caffeine-related anxiety, Crockett presses the green answer button and quickly presses the phone to his ear.

“Reese?”

“You’re not Nat.” The voice on the other end is almost giddy with barely contained laughter, but definitely Sarah. Crockett can’t think of the last time he’s seen her crack a smile, let alone laugh through gritted teeth on a midnight phone call. “Who is this?”

“Sarah, it’s Crockett. Did you mean to ring me?”

“I tried everyone else,” Sarah trails off, taking her words with her. “I thought maybe Nat would answer. You’re not here.”

He frowns and clears his throat. “I am, I’m right here, Sarah. What do you need?”

“There’s something-” A giggle. “There’s something really wrong with me.”

That piques Crockett’s interest, immediately pulling him worlds away from his current studying session. He’s absolutely not finishing this essay in time. “What do you mean?”

“You were pre-med, right?”

“Yeah, for like two weeks three years ago,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t walk right.”

“What do you mean?” Crockett repeats. He feels like he’s getting nowhere with this conversation, and as much as he wants to help Sarah, he’s not sure how, when she won’t give him a coherent answer to anything he asks her.

“Like, my feet won’t work.”

“Is it numbness or a prickling feeling?” Crockett asks, pulling from the small amount of medical knowledge he’s gained from binge-watching all of Grey’s Anatomy. Two weeks of pre-med did almost nothing for him.

Another giggle. “Numbness.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Two screwdrivers.”

Crockett wracks his brain. Orange juice and vodka. Even considering the liquor, two drinks wouldn’t have been enough to get Sarah this drunk, especially not to the point where she couldn’t walk properly.

“Reese,” he says. “Sarah, are you sure that’s all you had to drink?”

“Mmhmm,” Sarah hums. Crockett can hear the sound of what he assumes is a party in the background of the call.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asks.

“I- I think there’s something wrong with me,” Sarah says again, ignoring his question.

“Is there someone you can stay with until I get there?”

“Mm,” a pause, “I don’t think so. I called- I called everyone. No one answered.”

“Okay,” Crockett grabs his keys, his phone still pressed to his ear. “Sarah, can you tell me more about what’s going on? Where are you?”

There’s the noise of something smashing in the background of the call, a glass, or maybe a window? “Oh, fuck,” Sarah says.

“Fuck?” Crockett echoes, putting on a hoodie. “What happened?”

“That looked like a really expensive vase.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“That’s good. Where are you?” he tries again.

“The party. I don’t know… I don’t know where. Ava drove us. Her friend’s party.”

Crockett presses his phone to his ear with his shoulder while he pulls on his sneakers. “Her sorority friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He finishes lacing up his shoes, then stands, quickly saves his poor attempt at an essay, and then grabs his water bottle. “I know where that is. I’ll be there soon, yeah? Just stay somewhere safe, please. Try and find a bathroom or something.”

“Are you going to hang up now?” Sarah asks, her voice small and shaky. It’s a stark contrast to the giddy and giggling Sarah he’d been talking to minutes earlier.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Crockett promises. Regardless of Sarah’s opinion, he doesn’t feel comfortable hanging up the call. At least like this, he can monitor Sarah’s condition.

He leaves his room, stopping briefly in the kitchen to fill his bottle up for Sarah, and all the while, he keeps talking to her, asking her whatever questions he can think of. When he gets to his car, he puts the phone on speaker and lets Sarah’s voice fill the small space. She’s not making much sense, but as long as she’s still talking, he can ignore the anxiety gnawing at his stomach.

There’s almost no traffic on the drive to the sorority house, and he makes it there in just under fifteen minutes. Sarah speaks to him the whole time, and when he finally pulls up outside the house, he has a good enough idea of where she is. A pink bathroom, upstairs I think, she’d said. I can see the backyard. There are fairy lights in the trees.

“I’m outside now, okay?” He tells her. “It’s going to be loud inside, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear you, but I’m not hanging up. I’m just going to put my phone in my pocket for a bit.”

“I’m in the bathroom.”

“I know, Sarah. I’ll be there in a minute. Just hang on.”

He marches up the garden path and inside the house, pushing through crowds of drunk college students painfully unaware of their surroundings, and just as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Crockett?”

He turns to see Ava standing in front of him, brows furrowed in a deep frown, and clutching a red cup like her life depends on it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had to study.” She has to shout to be heard over the music, and she’s slurring her words a little. Not the way Sarah was though, so Crockett guesses she’s okay.

“I’m looking for Sarah. Have you seen her?”

She shrugs. “Not since we got here. There was some guy hitting on her though, so I don’t know. Maybe she went to get laid.”

Crockett swears under his breath. “Okay, whatever, thanks.” He starts up the stairs, then turns back around to get Ava’s attention again. “Turn your fucking phone on.”

Part of him hopes she’ll follow him upstairs, but when he looks back from the top, she’s lost somewhere in the crowd. If he’s being realistic, she’s most likely refilling her drink somewhere, or hitting on an unsuspecting sorority girl with a name like MaKaylynn.

There are three bathrooms on this floor, and he tries them all with no luck. He finds nothing in the first one, and after what he witnessed in the second one, he wishes it had been empty too. Or that people knew how to lock a door. The third one was more promising — two girls comforting their crying friend, who then all offered to help him find Sarah — but he politely declined. This would be easier if he wasn’t dragging three drunk girls around with him.

It’s quieter up here than downstairs, so once he’s left the girls and their friend behind, he takes a moment to check his phone. His stomach drops when he sees that the call has ended, and when he tries to call Sarah back, there’s no answer. He should have got here faster.

He rushes up the next flight of stairs, and after once again being greeted by nothing but beer-soaked tiles in the first bathroom he gets to, he twists the doorknob of the second one, only to be met with resistance when he tries to push the door open. He looks down and there’s a black Converse blocking the door. Even in the dim lighting, he can make out scribbles on the rubber toe — planets and stars and a tiny, scarily realistic frog — but he doesn’t let himself relax just yet.

“Reese?” He asks carefully. The shoe moves back.

“Kett,” Sarah slurs.

Bingo.

He pushes the door open to reveal Sarah sitting on the tiled floor, crammed between the toilet and the bathtub. Her knees are pulled up to her chin and her mascara runs in dark trails down her face.

“How are you doing?” he asks, slipping into the small room.

“Everything’s spinning,” Sarah mumbles, pressing her forehead to the lid of the toilet, her flushed skin bright against the porcelain. Her hair is up in two little buns on the top of her head, but they’re starting to come undone, revealing the blue streaks hidden inside. That was Ava’s doing, if Crockett recalls correctly, and involved a lot of alcohol and ruined clothes. “I think I just want to sleep here, please.”

“Not an option. I’ve come to take you home.” He extends a hand with his water bottle to Sarah and she takes it eagerly, popping the top and taking a sip.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Sarah shakes her head, and her buns bounce slightly. There’s vomit on her black tank top, and her knees poke through the holes in her jeans. She must have been cold getting here. Frilled black socks peek over the tops of her Converse, and when she’s had most of the water, she hands the bottle back to Crockett and pulls at the frills. “No, I can’t.”

Crockett nods. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

Sarah swishes the words around her mouth, feeling their weight and shape. “Feet are numb, hands too.”

She keeps playing with the frills of her socks, and Crockett watches the way she stares at her hands, as if they’re not quite part of her. Her eyelids are half-shut, and there are curls plastered to her forehead with sweat. The rest of her exposed skin is covered with a light sheen of it. He needs to get her out of here.

It’s not easy, but he somehow manages to help Sarah to her feet, only for her knees to immediately buckle and send her faceplanting into his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around her to hold her up.

“Whoa,” Sarah gasps, her hands fisting in the material of Crockett’s hoodie.

“You okay?” Crockett asks.

Sarah pulls her head back to look up at Crockett, her eyes wide. “I really don’t feel good.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to get you home now, okay? Just hold onto me.” He helps her move so that she’s walking almost fully supported by him, and just before they leave the room, he glances over his shoulder to look out the window. Sure enough, there are fairy lights on the trees outside, just like Sarah had said.

They manage to get all the way downstairs without incident, albeit slowly, but when they get to the foyer, Sarah asks if they can stop. She’s leaning more heavily on Crockett by this point, and her face is an even scarier shade of white than when he found her.

“We’re almost at the car now, I promise. Just out the door and then a little down the sidewalk.”

She mumbles something that Crockett doesn’t quite catch, then pulls away from him to throw up on a nearby plant. She manages to avoid getting it on herself this time, and as much as Crockett is relieved, he can’t help but feel bad for whoever will have to clean it up.

At least it won’t get in his car.

“I think I’m good now.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then tries her best to get back to him. She’s falling over her own feet without his support, so he quickly reaches out an arm for her to take. “Thank you.”

“Did you have a jacket or anything?” He asks once they’re moving again. She shakes her head. “Okay, hold on.”

They stop again, this time right by the front door, and he carefully helps her sit down on a windowsill. “It’s cold out, y’know,” he says, pulling his hoodie over his head. She needs this more than he does; he can cope in just a t-shirt.

She gets it on without any help from Crockett, and just as they’re about to start moving again, a voice from behind catches Crockett’s attention.

“Kett! You found her?”

It’s Ava again, and this time, it’s his turn to frown.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“God, sorry.” She peers down at Sarah. “She looks like shit.”

“Of course she does. Someone put something in her drink.” His voice is harsh, and it catches Ava off-guard.

“That’s not very nice,” Sarah mumbles.

“Are you sure?” She tilts her head to one side as if to get a better look at Sarah, and when Crockett nods, she begins to chew nervously on her bottom lip.

“She’s had two drinks, Aves. This is not what two drinks do to a person.”

“I didn’t- I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t. Maybe if you’d answered your phone, you would have.”

She stutters out an attempt at a reply, but he simply ignores it and chooses to focus instead on getting Sarah up and walking again. When they get to the front door, he looks back to glare at Ava, then pulls it open and ushers Sarah out into the cold winter night.

Just as he promised, it’s only a short walk to the car, and Sarah almost collapses onto the back seat. Crockett helps her with her seatbelt, and before long, they’re on the way back to the dorms. Sarah sits with her cheek pressed against the cool glass of the window, and she just watches as the lights of the city flash past them.

“You okay back there?” Crockett asks, looking at her through the rearview mirror. “I can take you to the emergency room if you want.”

“Mm. I just need my bed. I’ll be okay in bed.”

He frowns but accepts her decision. She seems okay, all things considered. “Fine, but I’m spending the night. I don’t want you choking on your own vomit.”

She smiles a little and nods. “Whatever you want, Kett.”

Neither of them speaks for the last part of the drive, but when they get to a red light that seemingly won’t change, Crockett takes the opportunity to put some music on. There’s an album Sarah made him save on Spotify, by a band he’s only vaguely heard of, and he finds it and puts it on shuffle for her.

“Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. Nice.”

“What?” He glances down at his phone. “Oh. The song.”

For the next few minutes, they listen to Sarah’s music — Panic! At The Disco, Crockett’s phone tells him — until they finally pull up outside their dorm. Crockett turns the music off, much to Sarah’s dismay, and then they once again begin the process of trying to get her to walk without falling over. Fortunately, there’s an elevator in the building, so they don’t have to even think about attempting four flights of stairs together. Sarah sits on the floor the whole way up, with her legs spread out in front of her. As they near the fifth floor, Sarah starts taking her buns out, and by the time the door opens, her curls once again frame her face, and she’s holding a handful of hair ties and bobby pins.

They live in the same apartment, so it’s only the key to her room that they have to worry about. It’s in one of her jeans pockets, and when she eventually manages to get it out, she fumbles with it as she tries to put it in the lock. Her hand-eye coordination is limited, though, and when she finally gives in and lets Crockett do it, she simply tells him that her hands are still numb.

“I want to sleep,” she says, leaving Crockett’s side to stumble over to her bed and lie down. “Bedtime.”

“Sarah, you can’t sleep in jeans, and there’s puke on your shirt. You need to change.”

She frowns. “Can you help? I can’t…” Her voice trails off, and she waves her hands at him. Numb.

“If you really want me to, yeah.”

He makes his way over to the bed, and they slowly begin the delicate task of undressing and re-dressing her, starting with her shoes, which he unlaces and sets down by the door, before moving onto his hoodie. He drapes it over the back of her desk chair, then asks if she needs help with her top or jeans. She nods yes, so he goes back to take over what her body won’t let her do. He unbuttons and unzips her jeans, but she’s able to wriggle them off on her own, and he puts them on the chair as well. The tank top slides off as well, instead of being pulled over her head, and Crockett tracks down her laundry hamper to place it inside.

“Can you do your bra?” He feels weird even offering, but he knows she probably won’t want to sleep in it.

She shakes her head, then pulls herself upright. “I need a shirt. Lemme…” She reaches under her pillow and grabs a giant University of Chicago t-shirt. “Okay. No peeking.”

She turns slightly, then pulls the t-shirt on so it’s around her neck and waits for him to sit next to her. His fingers are careful and delicate, and he tries his best to make sure he’s only touching the bra itself.

“I thought you got all the girls,” Sarah says, grinning. “Shouldn’t this be easy?”

“Shut up.” His voice has a playful tone to it, and Sarah laughs a little. “There.”

Crockett’s not sure how she manages it, but she puts her arms through the sleeves of the t-shirt, then after a few seconds of adjusting and moving her arms around in ways he doesn’t really understand, she hands him the bra. He puts it on the chair with the other clothes.

“Do you want pants?”

“No pants. Just sleep. Need to sleep.”

She pulls the covers back and climbs underneath, then motions for Crockett to join her. “Shoes off, please.”

“I don’t know about this, Reese.”

“Chill,” she says. “Nothing’s going to happen. Just sleep. Get in, unless you want the floor. It is not comfy.” She giggles a little. “Not comfy.”

He sighs, then gives in and unlaces his shoes.

#chicago med #whumptober 2023 #writing #sarah reese #crockett marcel #college!au

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