#Danny work as a cook in an all night diner

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: The Dead Man at the Diner

Danny has a hard time maintaining regular jobs. At this point he’s pretty much nocturnal after years of being attacked at night, and possibly just part of his ghostly nature. He’s odd, and a basic google search brings up various news articles about him getting into fist fights with the mayor of a small town. He barely passed high school and college was out of the question, so who in their right mind would hire him?

What’s a job that would work with his odd hours, doesn’t require a college education, and a possible criminal record and a tendency to be ready to throw down is NOT an issue?

Danny is a cook at a 24hour Diner in Gotham

The man just needs to be able to flip a burger and make breakfast food and doesn’t mind a gun in the face because he’s well used to it. So what if the robber was dumb enough to pull that shit next to the fryer. If he didn’t want something to end up extra crispy he should have stayed out of Danny’s kitchen

Just think of all the folks he would meet.

Sure, the vigilantes of the city would be obvious and you can’t tell me spoiler isn’t dragging folks there to eat. Maybe they notice some weird things about the cook, like he doesn’t breath, his eyes reflect light like an animal’s, or the time he accidentally cut off a finger and it was fine the next day, or maybe the time a robber shot him and he just... didn’t react

Something is weird about that guy

And of course the person I think would love a jersey style diner breakfast at all hours: Harley Quinn

Technically she’s not supposed to bring the hyenas in, health code and all that, but everyone else is to freaked out to tell her and Danny doesn’t care. Frankly he spends his break petting them and they like him because he smells like food.

[the-anxious-stargazer]

Like Honey || Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although Sam have promised herself to not get too close to anyone outside her newfound family, she struggles when she meets a regular in the diner she worked at.

Words: 4.02k

Note: This is inspired from Halsey's song Honey! i'd recommend you guys listen to it while reading :) i'm slowly starting getting into horror bc i dont want to be a pussy no more and watch them for jenna and melissa (they are so hot omfg)

[Masterlist][Part 2]

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Sam promised herself that she'd focus on Tara and the gang first before learning to let new people in again in her life. That promise was made when they all moved to New York after the murders in Woodsboro. After Richie. A betrayal like that is a valid reason for her to be closed off and be suspicious of anyone her sister or her friends meet. The same could be said for Quinn, Ethan, Anika, and everyone else she had met when they were introduced to her. Sam did warm up to the three the longer they stayed. She felt a little more comfortable with them when her gut told her that maybe they were genuine people. But she still almost kept to herself. She almost didn't have any friends outside them other than Danny their neighbor next door.

Being the oldest and mother figure of the group meant she worked for her and Tara's share of rent and other needs. Even though their mother sends money for bills and such, Sam wanted to work still. Though she knew what she get weren't much it didn't hurt to start saving her own money. So she worked to keep herself busy but not too much to not acknowledge that she was suffering such a mental scar from the attacks. One of those jobs was in a diner a few blocks near them. It paid okay and the staff are kind but Sam rarely bothered to get too close to them. All she ever knew from them is that they were willing to offer a smile and small conversation.

Usually, she takes the morning shifts, other times she takes the graveyard ones. You can pretty much figure out which shift she preferred over the other.

The regulars were introduced to her on her first shift by Dale, the main cook. There was a couple, John and Amy, who was always on time in the morning and order eggs and toast only with two refills of drip. Rex is a sculptor who mostly sits in the corner and has a few sketches by the table with him, only ordering an omelet with ketchup. There's also a programmer named Adrian who gets a lot of coffee and a BLT at night. Sometimes his friend Ben joins in with fries. A young woman named Adelaide who works from home and is always on the phone while she ate her waffles and vanilla milkshake. Adelaide would go by the mornings if she wakes up early or comes by near the evening when she could.

Lastly, there was Y/N. Sam has figured before that she looked around the same age as her. Cate mentioned when she was teaching her around that she's been here way before her and she pretty much knew everyone in the diner. She was mostly in the morning with a few files in her hand. She's an assistant in an independent law firm. There were times that she came by night and read some of the files she had all the while taking a sip of her joe now and then, other moments she was taking notes for a case assignment that her boss told her to take a look for him. Sam always gets a warm greeting from her as she did with everyone else when she enters the diner and interacts with her whenever deemed necessary. She thought she was too nice to be true.

"You from New York?" Y/N asks her as Sam fills her mug and couldn't help but doubt for a second if she were going to be honest or not,

Y/N always had a keen eye. She liked watching everyone else and let the world work. That meant she liked observing the customers that enter the diner every now and then, noticing how John always drink his coffee slowly to match Amy's pace and always offers an extra toast to her. How Adelaide sometimes start scribbling on her tissues while she talked to her boyfriend who she assumed lived away from New York. The fidgeting Cate does when she's serving Rex and giggles a little when she talks to him. Y/N could see how tired Sam was even when she had just started her shift a few moments ago. The neatness of her diner clothes, layers of makeup, and fake smile couldn't mask the exhaustion the woman has felt for who knows how long. She didn't want to pry about anyone's story so she tries to offer what she only can to someone who deems her a stranger, kindness. It doesn't hurt to treat anyone fairly.

"No, not from around here. I'm just trying to start over." She answers half-heartedly, trying not to give away any information about her at all. Sam sees a gentle smile from her and she couldn't help but feel the burning sensation on her cheeks.

"I wish you well for that. Everyone deserves a restart." And with that, Y/N thanked her for refilling her.

Those were one of many encounters Sam had with her. There were times Y/N would order 2 cups of coffee for her to share with anyone on the staff and reluctantly Sam accepted her third request at the random times she offered. She was beyond suspicious. Her doubt was understandable given the fact that she went through a lot that broke her sense of trust in anyone. But her cautiousness was only met with a tender conversation. Y/N would always ask how she is and the first and ever personal information she has ever given to anyone outside her family was her. Sam vaguely talked about how Tara has been slowly losing interest in seeking help and acting like nothing happened. Of course, there are a few changes here and there to make it seem like a normal rant about her younger sister and Y/N listened intently to her.

Or maybe it was because she was too distracted by the beauty of the older Carpenter sister.

Those seeming doe eyes that hid too many secrets.

Another night shift has come and to Sam's discomfort, she had to be at work. She just came from therapy and her second doctor had just given up on her, making her night already more dreadful than it was. And just to top things off the students who have been visiting the diner lately have been making it their job to worsen her night by being obnoxious and gossiping over her. They weren't even trying to keep it down as if they were back in high school and Sam had just stolen the famous girl's ex-boyfriend. Tara had told her the rumors about her and Woodsboro before and she couldn't care less about what a stranger, who wasn't even there, would think. It was the breaking point when one of them spilled their milkshake on her "accidentally". The smug smile the girl wore before she did it was almost too easy to miss but little did they know that Y/N had been watching them silently the entire time. The woman's had enough of their disturbance. She had been gripping on her pen hard to almost split it in half.

"I'm so sorry, miss." The girl in white apologized with a snide tone. Her friends giggle at her antics on the now pink-stained light blue blouse Sam wore. It just happened to be a strawberry milkshake too. Just last week a girl threw her orange juice at her when she was on her way home with dinner. At this point she thought she's collecting all the fruit flavored drinks.

"D-Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up." Sam begrudgingly states while avoiding her eyes before she went to turn around but stopped when she saw how she almost bumped into someone,

Familiar Chelsea boots stood before her.

"I beg to differ." They hear the person say before the woman realizes who it was.

"And who are you supposed to be? Her friend?" One of them asks cockily to which Y/N smiles at their confidence. She had her sleeves rolled up already, coat resting back in her booth and Dale was waiting for her cue to tag along after she signaled him from her table earlier.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you some manners on gossiping about people you don't know? Let alone the one serving you your meals and minding her damn business?" She had slowly paced past the unmoving Sam Carpenter that watched closely. Both hands rested on the side of their table and her anger was prevalent from the way she carried herself in the scene. 

"She's a lying snake and a murdering bitch!" The other one barked from her seat.

"Let me guess, you got that from Reddit? What else are you going to believe next, that Beyonce's part of the Illuminati?" Y/N mocked her statement and that's when Sam realized that she knew about the rumors surrounding her, that she knew some bit of her past.

The girls had been quiet after she pointed out their bullshit. Sam had always seen her be courteous and approachable when she stops by, her smiles almost making her eyes crinkle when waving at them, and treated everyone with reason, but tonight was different. This was a woman who has lost her patience after holding it for so long,

"I'm going to ask you to leave. People like you don't deserve to be served when you treat the servers here like they're nothing." Y/N ordered with her eyes unblinking with focus.

When no one moved, Y/N let Dale handle the rest by approaching the table and the girls scurried fast before they were going to be thrown out by the man who stood almost six feet tall. Sam heard a few yells at the girls to leave the diner when they exited the place and her gaze follows back Y/N who had changed her demeanor. The cook pats her back for her handling the situation and thanks her before he gives Sam a pat as well and comes back to his previous spot. It was then that the woman offered her the unsparing eyes that always looked at her and asks,

"Are you okay?" Sam thought it sounded so sweet, all she could respond was a faint nod. She didn't even comprehend how a bit close she was already to her until a hint of soft vanilla could be smelled from her. Not the kind where it almost smelled artificial like those vape juices, but it was almost authentic. The woman before her then fishes out something out of her back pocket and extended her handkerchief.

"Here. You got an extra blouse, dear?" Another question follows after Sam takes it and started wiping away some of the liquid.

"No, mines in my apartment, and it's a few blocks away," Y/N hears her voice again after it was silenced earlier, "Hey Dale, Peter doesn't mind his servers being out of uniform for a situation like this, right?" She shouts at the cook who was just about to send a plate to Dolly, Sam's partner for the shift tonight.

"Nah, let me handle him when he asks next time. I gotchu Sam." Dale nods their way.

Y/N then started unbuttoning her shirt and it revealed a white tank top underneath her white button-up shirt. Sam knew should be looking away but couldn't even help herself. Her attention was so close on her slightly toned arms until she snapped out of her daze as the woman handed her top, "Here, you can borrow this for now."

Dolly went to grab a mop and started cleaning the rest of the drink on the floor, "I'll take it from here, Sam." She reassures her and Sam was beyond grateful of the people supporting her.

"A-Are you sure?" Sam looks back at Y/N who hasn't fazed.

"Yeah don't worry about it, Sam." She beams.

The Carpenter girl then watched her walk back to her booth like nothing transpired and quietly apologized to the remaining customers she'd passed by before sitting down. But if Y/N was being honest, she was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline. She was well aware that violence was never the option, yet the possibility for things to go south was out there. She never wants to ever resort to that. Sam then finally moved from the spot she was seemingly glued onto since the confrontation and went to change in the staff room. While she was away, Y/N ordered a martini and piña colada instead of finishing her coffee. Caffeine wouldn't help flush away the rush that still lingered. In between changing her top, Sam couldn't help but wonder why someone like Y/N would stand up for her when she barely knew her.

But that thought was pushed aside when she started slipping into the button-up shirt that was handed to her by the very woman she was curious about and a whiff of her scent made its way to her nostrils again. Sam paused for a second to process how addicting Y/N's scent was. Even her damn perfume was almost sweet. After pushing her thoughts away and finishing closing the shirt, she tossed her ruined blouse in her bag and went back out to continue her shift but only to be stopped,

"Hey, I kinda asked Dale to give you a break so... care to sit with me?" Y/N wondered before the drinks she ordered arrived with Dolly winking at her. The woman shyly smiles back at her before she left them alone and dealt with another customer.

"Yeah, I'd… actually like that." Sam settled on the other side of the booth as she slide the glass of martini to her, "Oh, I'm not allowed to drink while on—"

"Take it easy, Sam. You've been through a lot just now so take it. It's on me." She waves off before taking a big sip of her piña colada.

The woman reluctantly takes a decent amount from her glass while Y/N fixes her files that had been slightly scattered on her side of the table. It was the right moment for Sam to finally pop the question,

"You knew?" It came off pretty fast, making Y/N tilt her head.

"About Woodsboro, I mean. I'm sorry that came off harder than intended." Sam clarified her question and apologized for being forward to which Y/N didn't mind.

"That's alright. I've only read two news articles about it but other than that, it's all I know."

"You don't have to tell me about it, Sam. You said you wanted to start fresh, and you don't owe anyone an explanation." Y/N assured her and the Carpenter girl countered, "No, I feel like I can trust you about… all of this." Sam replies before taking a deep breath.

From being the daughter of the original killers in the Woodsboro murders to her seeing visions of her dad in the mirror and being a victim of the ghost face attacks, she spared no details throughout her story, her therapy sessions going almost nowhere because she'd scare them off and Y/N never stopped her flow and listened intently to everything she said. Not even a single sound came out of her mouth as Sam spoke. The only thing she ever offered were observant eyes that watched every move, like how the crease on her forehead slowly increased as she went on or the hint of distaste in her voice when she mentioned her deceased ex-boyfriend. She barely bats an eye when she even admitted that she enjoyed killing him and Amber. Not a single change of muscle movement on her face other than taking a few sips from her drink and blinking now and then.

When Sam finished telling her whole story, she had been anticipating the request for her to leave and never come back, just like the one her psychiatrist said when she told him the truth that afternoon. She had grown to expect that from anyone now. Yet all she heard was an exhale from the woman she shared the table with,

"That's... a lot to take in." She hears her note as she rub her chin,

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Sam. You didn't deserve it." Y/N continues with empathetic eyes.

"You don't… feel like the need to push me away?" Sam asks, and for once she feared someone's answer more than anyone else. Almost too afraid that she'd scare Y/N away.

"No, not really." She told nonchalantly.

Sam stared blankly at her as she moved to cross her arms and looked down from her seat. She couldn't tell if she was about to take back her statement or maybe ask her more about the attacks. Yet Y/N was able to catch Sam off guard as she went to finish her martini,

"Not going to lie, those two deserved to die for what they did— I mean… committing murders because your movie franchise sucked? That seems childish, especially for an adult man." Y/N comments on her thoughts, not realizing it made her choke on her drink.

"Oh my god, Sam— are you okay?" She tries to offer her a glass of water though the Carpenter girl waves it off.

"No, no, it's just— you're right their motive seemed childish." A laugh follows, and it makes Y/N smile that she witnesses her being unguarded. She almost felt too lucky that Sam let herself be this vulnerable to her now.

"Thank you, for not turning me away and for always listening," Sam says after calming down.

And Sam meant it. It was nice to be heard and not hated for the first time. She felt safe knowing that she could trust a new person for once. She still has a long way from being able to trust again, but small process is still process.

"You're welcome. You deserve it." The woman says as she leans forward on the table and rested both elbows close to the edge, "If you need someone to talk about... this, I'm always open. No matter what it may be, I won't turn you away." Y/N continues with her signature smile this time.

After that, Sam went on with her shift while Y/N picked back up the papers she had scanned before the confrontation. It's a good thing she noted down her thoughts to remember where she left off and continued looking through some of the witness reports she had brought with her for their recent case. Sam would sometimes steal a few glances from her and offer a small smile whenever she gets caught. That was the moment she started growing more fond of their diner's regular. Each visit felt more special than the last and each offer of coffee breaks has made both of them closer. Whenever Sam wasn't on duty, Y/N would feel a little bored but Sam was able to text her and ask about her day. When there was someone who wanted to talk shit about her, Y/N wouldn't hesitate to spit back at them or push the person when someone throws their drink at her. The Carpenter girl appreciated the gestures and sometimes feels too bad that she gets to be splashed at, but the woman didn't mind. Tara got to meet her one day when she visited Sam to work and hanged out a little just to kill time. She was very skeptical of Y/N at first, but the way her sister eased up around her gave her the impression that she was trustworthy. Sam's trust is hard to earn after all.

The night was about to come, and Sam had just finished her shift when she happen to encounter the person that has been making her days ten times better than she ever expected. Y/N always wore a pantsuit to work, switching from 4 pairs. Today she was wearing the brown one that had a waistcoat and she was killing the style. Sam never gets tired of her presence or the way she always presents herself. She just looked ravishing in a pantsuit. Y/N had her coat neatly folded on her right arm that held folders while her messenger bag rested on her right shoulder. The smile that was so familiar to her greeted Sam Carpenter warmly that she couldn't help but blush,

"Good evening, Miss Carpenter. I'll be your chauffeur for tonight." Y/N announces with an accent. The attempt makes Sam laugh, "If that's your take on a British accent, you need to work more on it." She teased softly, shaking her head.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." Sam hears her offer and gestured her occupied arm for her to take, which she happily does so.

"How chivalrous of you, Miss Y/L/N. Keep this up, and I might start falling for you." Half of it was a joke, but she was indeed falling for her, harder than Sam even realizes. If only she knew that Y/N had already fallen for her a while now.

She kept herself composed after Sam's teasing. Both of them chatted casually as they walk through the streets of New York. Y/N talked about her day at the office and how their copier was jamming down. It was annoying her and she had to kick it a few times before it worked again. Sam, on the other hand, shared about how a costumer had a screaming match with a date while eating and almost broke things in the diner. Dale was almost livid when the woman raised her plate and was about to throw it at the poor guy. Moments like these were nice for Sam. The life that was just mundane for once and not surrounded by the craziness of her past that still lingers. No screaming stranger threatening her, another flavored drink being thrown her way or a masked psycho trying to kill her, but a quiet night. Laughs were shared, jokes were thrown at each other, and flirts slipped here and there to make it seem like it was nothing. Even if the world around them was a little overwhelming, they were stuck in their own bubble cherishing each other's presence. Y/N was content and she had gathered enough courage until they reached Sam's apartment building. She collected her thoughts and watched her let go of her arm,

"This is me," Sam gestures to the building door, "Thank you for the walk, Y/N. It was... nice." She follows up with a light blush present on her cheeks. She hoped Y/N didn't notice them.

"Yeah, it was." Y/N smiles at her and scratched to back of her head.

"Look, I've been thinking, do you want to grab dinner sometime? You know— like a date. If you don't mind." The woman begins to avoid her brown eyes. Y/N was way too damn shy, and it made the brown girl giggle.

Sam then approaches her and almost closes the gap between them, leaving a peck on her cheek that it made Y/N jump. She turned so red it was almost like she was cherry. It was a first to witness her like this and it made Sam giggle even more as she didn't move away from her spot,

"I don't mind at all. I'm free by 6 pm tomorrow. No need to be fancy or grand, anything cheap would be fine by me." The Carpenter girl move close to her ear to whisper it to her.

Y/N then finally pulls herself together and gathers back the natural courage she had, trying to match Sam's, "6 pm, tomorrow it is then. I'll pick you up here, Carpenter."

She was the one to pull away and she puts back her signature smile before bidding her farewells to her.

"Good night, Sam. Sweet dreams." Y/N smoothly delivers and starts walking back to where they came from earlier.

Sam then watches her walk away and bites her lip. The view was indeed nice to watch. She then covers her face with both hands before giddily smiling at the ground, thinking about what had just happened. Sam thought it felt like high school all over again. That rush in her veins was quite familiar to her. It's been a while since she had it. All she has to do now is prepare for tomorrow and be sure it's perfect. Y/N, on the other hand, skipped through the streets like a little kid as she smiled widely. Few strangers looked at her funny, but everyone else focused to their own world. The papers she thought she'd be working on tonight would probably be forgotten now that the only thing on her mind is their date tomorrow.

Both women looked forward to it.

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thank you for reading! fell free to leave a request :>

[flutteringdreams-matw]

The Insomniac's Diner

Happy Truce @half-deadmagicperson! I've been working on this for a little bit - honestly my ideas started to get so big that I might even make it longer. Just wanted to give you this chapter and wishing you the best! Hope you like it.

The prompt I chose was: Mr. Lancer discovers Danny’s identity in the most random way.

When battling insomnia, the last thing he expected was to be sitting at his favourite grungy diner on the outskirts of Amity, drinking what he presumed was coffee.

William Lancer sighed, clicking his pen absently as he reread his manuscript for the third time that night. Green eyes swept the page, hoping for a spark of inspiration to send his whirling mind into a buzz, spilling the story onto the page. He took another sip, scrunching his nose in disgust at the burnt taste.

“Fresh Cup there Lance?”

He choked, coughing into the cup in surprise. The diner owner stood over him, a smirk across her round face as she waited for an answer. “No, probably for the best Gloria. It’s a school night after all.”

Gloria tutted, settling in across the man in his booth. “This is the third night this week dearie – anything the matter?”

Lancer sighed again. “Not sure – you know I’ve been dealing with this for years.”

“Well, yes, but it seems like it might be a little more regular now,” Gloria replied, humming slightly. “In all the years I’ve seen you William, this ranks top three. Is it the book again? The teens at the school? Don’t tell me it’s the g-“

“Shh!”

Gloria and Lancer turned to the wide-eyed cook behind the counter. “Don’t jinx it Gloria. He might show up again?”

Curiosity bubbled through Lancer. “He?” He queried.

Gloria shrugged. “It’s been a week, I doubt he’ll show up again. Besides, all he does is show the card anyway.”

Lancer frowned. “The card?”

Gloria pointed to the wall of frayed photos under a large sign labelled Friends of Dale. “The All-You-Can-Eat one. It’s the card where that person and anyone in their family can eat for free after completing the Dale’s challenge in one sitting.”

 “The one that’s everything on the menu topped with a fudge sundae?”

“That’s the one! It’s been 6 years since anyone even tried.” Gloria fidgeted with the menu on the table. ‘Anyway, this kid keeps showing up here at random hours of the morning and asks for the same thing: Three pancakes topped with whipped cream and a coffee with an expresso shot and 7 sugars.”

Lancer gagged. “7 sugars? At that point why drink coffee?”

“You’re missing the point Lance,” Gloria tapped the menu card, attempting to gain his attention. “This kid, he’s like…. I don’t know. But he’s high school aged.”

Lancer bristled. “One of my students?”

Gloria shook her head. “Don’t think so – unless you have a student with white hair who can fly.”

The pen dropped from Lancer’s hand as the man’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Gloria smiled mischievously. “You heard me.”

Lancer grabbed his pen, clicked it a few times then set it on the table. “How long does he stay?”

Gloria stood up, smoothing out the front of her uniform while she eyed the rest of the diner. “Depends on the day. Often, I hear him muttering about a curfew. If our parents made our curfew after 2am on a school night I’d question their sanity.” She frowned, nodding her head to the left. “Gotta jet. But you’re in for a treat.”

Puzzled, Lancer traced Gloria’s steps across the checkered floor.

“The usual?” Gloria asked warmly as she approached the booth furthest from the door.  

“Yeah – and if you have ice and a first aid kit, I’d appreciate it.”

Lancer’s blood ran cold as Phantom’s voice softly echoed through the diner. He peered subtly over his booth, barely making out the gray hoodie with a tuft of snow white hair poking out of it. Vaguely, he heard Gloria tell him she couldn’t fork over the first aid kit but took his order down. She walked back towards the counter, locking eyes with the teacher and mouthed what suspiciously looked like Told you in his direction.

Lancer stared back at his manuscript, mind reeling at this new development. Phantom here. How long? Have they every been here at the same time? Why?

“You look confused.”

Startled, Lancer jumped out of his seat, spilling coffee over the first page as the young ghost materialized across from him.

Danny Phantom winced, frowning at the mess. “Shoot, sorry.” The boy grabbed papers and suddenly the coffee fell through the table and onto the floor. Once the table was solid again, he picked up the manuscript, made them into a neat pile and handed them back to the man. “I should know better.”

Lancer stood, gaping at the boy now joining him at the booth. “It’s… alright…” He sat back down gingerly, eyeing him warily. The gray hoodie, he realized, was from an old spirit wear campaign from Casper High that was discontinued in the 80s; Lancer swore he saw them in a stock room in the basement a couple weeks back. Phantom’s gloved hands were in his sleeves, the left pressed down on his right. Green eyes stared back, confusion and a bit of concern shining back at him. “Long night?”

The spell was broken; the teen groaned loudly, shrinking into his seat. “It always is. Seriously, I thought I’d never get away from Technus’ babble. He’s almost as bad as T-a friend of mine.” Gloria came over, giving the boy his food, a bowl of ice and coffee and left the pair with a hint of smile. “What about you? Didn’t think teachers stayed up until 2am on a school night.”

 Lancer laughed. “Try being a teacher in America. Trust me, I’m not up because I want to.” He watched the boy take a piece of ice, wrapped it in a napkin before pressing down on his arm. Ignoring the action and the wince that followed, Lancer continued. “I’ve struggled with insomnia over the last 10 years, sometimes I can get through it, sometimes… I embrace it.”

“Some would say neglecting sleep is bad for you,” the boy quipped.

“Some haven’t had the nights I’ve had,” he retorted.

Phantom hummed, taking a bite out of the first pancake with his left hand. “Not like I can’t relate,” he muttered. The ghost’s eyes flickered to the stack of papers. “What’s that?”

A soft smile graced his lips. “Just a little bit of writing.”

Phantom hummed again, this time bringing his head to his hand thoughtfully. “Like a book?”

“Exactly that. I figured if I couldn’t sleep, I’d at least work on it a bit.”

“Did it help?”

Lancer laughed sardonically. “Nope.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “And I have to cover at least one extra period tomorrow. Any chance your escapades destroyed part of the school tonight?”

The boy flushed green. “Hey! I don’t intentionally destroy buildings! I can’t pick where I’m thrown!”

Lancer chuckled. “I was joking.” The pair sat in silence, Phantom continuing his meal while Lancer drank the rest of his burnt coffee. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. “How long have you been coming here?”

Phantom shrugged. “Apparently this place has a bunch of …. What did Frostbite call them…. Essentially faultlines,” He made a face. “Not quite that. Anyway, a bunch of these faultlines the run under this diner that deter ghosts from coming here. It’s like a ghost truce space – some of our powers don’t work. We’re hardwired to avoid it.”

Lancer’s face twitched. “So… like it’s haunted.”

Phantom smiled mischievously. “You get it.” He stretched, taking a sip of coffee before settling in again. “Anyway, found that out a couple months back and remembered that I had the card so I’ve been coming here when I need to fuel up.”

Lancer nodded, making a mental note to ask about it later. One never got this close to the ghost hero without a ghost fight, let alone know a bit about him. His curiosity was peaked, brimming with wanting to learn everything he could about the visitor. All the questions suddenly left him as he saw Phantom add more sugar to his coffee. “Eventually, that’ll stop being coffee.”

Phantom chuckled. “Good. It’s gross – I only use it for the caffeine anyway. I still have at least another hour to go before I can actually go home.”

Lancer glanced at his watch; 2:30am. “I don’t envy you,” he said softly.

The boy’s eyebrow quirked upward. “Who would?” he asked honestly.

Lancer frowned at the response but before he was able to think hard about it, a new bulletin flashed across the TV, completely stealing the boy’s attention to the conversation at hand.

“Shoot,” he said with a frown. He downed the coffee in one go and floated into the air. “Gotta run – maybe I’ll see you around sometime Mr. Lancer.” He flew up through the ceiling and then the diner was silent again.

Lancer barely managed to wave, frowning at the bizarre conversation.

“Harmless right?”

Lancer jumped out of his skin as Gloria snuck up behind him. “Hell House Gloria, anyone ever suggest you might be a ghost?”

Gloria chuckled, giving him the bill. “You know you love it.” She started to clean the table, frowning slightly. “Huh, poor thing must have been in a rush.”

“Seemed so – why?”

Gloria flashed the membership card his way. “He left this behind. I’ll just keep it until he shows up next.”

Lancer grew pale. “Gloria – are you sure that’s his card?”

Gloria’s eyes sparkled. “Yes – why?”

“Because I recognize that name,” he said softly.

Gloria smiled in understanding. “You teach those kids right? Little one should be high school bound by now.”

He nodded.

“Well it’s his card – no doubt about it. Not stolen either, I did the test and all. It’s him.” She shrugged, turning her back as she pocketed the evidence. “Don’t think too hard about it – it’ll keep you up at night.”

Lancer sat frozen, his curiosity wrapping around such an absurd theory that he couldn’t shake. There was no way. No possible way this could be true and yet –

The card said Fenton.

[gilbirda]

Jason x Jazz AU but Jason is working part time as a cook in some run-down diner that Jazz frequents to buy dinner. One day, she went over-time at Arkham, passes by the diner with a sigh (it's on the way home), and she bumps into Jason who was taking out the trash.

Jason recognizes Jazz because she's the only one who orders for food that won't come back to life, and he finds it hilarious. But he was also kinda, sorta, a little bit worried about her - shut up!! It's not a crush!! - so he has a container filled with her usual that's packed beside the other leftover food that was cooked for some homeless kids that lived near him.

Jazz is delighted, and her smile is so pretty - okay, so maybe he does have a crush - and so he tells her how many minutes she should microwave it for. She thanks him and waves him good bye, Jason waves back. And he's been waving his hand for a solid 30 seconds with a dopey grin on his face before Nightwing pops up behind him with a shit-eating grin, scaring the shit out of Jason.

"Who's the giiiiiiiiiirl?"

Jason rolls his eyes, kicks his brother in the shins, and walks back into the kitchen to pack the rest of the food.

It happens like this for some time, every week, there will be one day Jazz does overtime.

Jason, hearing from Red Robin's reports that she's been successful in helping many criminals turn a new leaf, is proud of Jasmine and cooks a whole lot more for her, even going by to visit her to deliver a healthy breakfast once he pretends to find out that they lived in the same apartment.

Danny no longer had to worry bout Jazz not taking care of herself because Jason even packs lunch for her, cooks breakfast and Dinner for her and--

"If you marry him, nothing will change except for the fact that he will now cook in your shared kitchen, Jazz. C'mon!" he says, munching on HER pesto pasta specially made by Jason.

Dick and Tim are so tired watching Jason pine from afar, and tells him to FOR THE LOVE OF WONDER WOMAN JUST ASK OUT OUR FUTURE SISTER IN LAW ALREADY.

Alfred hands Jason a recipe book titled "Recipes That Will Definitely Get You a Date".

********

Fast forward, the two are already dating, and Jazz's parents come to visit. Jason, who came by Jazz's apartment in the morning to impress her family with a homecooked breakfast, checks the fridge AND SCREAMS, TAKING OUT HIS GUNS, AND SHOOTING THE SCREAMING MONSTROSITY LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IT'S NOT DYING!

The goopey monster is also kinda resonating with Jason, and it's making Jason uncomfortable because he could feel the monster goop's fear and-

Jazz steps in. She sucks the goop in some kind of thermos, throws the thermos to Danny who caught it with ease, and sits Jason down. And then, she spends that morning while her parents are asleep telling him all about her and Danny's past.

After all of it, Jason sits back with a tired sigh, processing everything.

Then he furrows his brows.

"Wait, so, is all the food in the fridge contaminated with ectoplasm?"

"Yeah?" Danny answers.

Jason pulls out the black card he stole from Bruce's wallet last night.

"We're buying a new fridge."

Jason also manages to successfully impress Danny with his cooking. "Jazz, if you don't marry him, I will make him adopt me!"

Jason just wonders why the siblings don't question his guns. (Danny watches over Jason sometimes, on nights Jazz was worried over the guy. And Danny was also worried about Jason, because Jason felt like a baby ghost. The two knows his secret, and they're both very proud of him, Danny especially for some reason... It's not because he feels like a baby!!!

And while Jason was being watched over by Danny as Phantom, he feels a sense of calm, like being protected in the warm arms of a parent/family *snort*)

***

I... I have no words, anon. You have here a whole AU.

(Jason's love language being food will never get old for me hehehehehehhe)

Honestly squealed at this

And he's been waving his hand for a solid 30 seconds with a dopey grin on his face before Nightwing pops up behind him with a shit-eating grin, scaring the shit out of Jason. "Who's the giiiiiiiiiirl?"

And also, Alfred knows what's up 👀

Alfred hands Jason a recipe book titled "Recipes That Will Definitely Get You a Date".

I can imagine the slow burn going on and their respective siblings Suffering(tm) because they ship it so hard and they want to meet them in person and you know what, fuck it, they will bond with bf/gf on their own and

Danny dropping the invisibility while stalking Jason like heyyyyyyy whats upppp and honestly becoming friends on their own and lots of undead bonding going on.

and batkids taking Jasmine out for fun stuff, maybe for ice cream and tell her all the dirt on their brother and Alfred sent a specifically made for her album with pictures of baby Jason when he arrived at the Manor and it was supposed to be used for blackmail, but Jasmine looks so excited about the photos and damn they can't pick on him anymore

idk the packaged food and househusband Jason got to me

thanks for the treat, anon

[reginageorgesgirlfriend3020]

How Sam would be as your girlfriend (Part 3)

She isnt shy to be affectionate towards you

It doesnt matter who's in the lobby by the stairs, Sam will kiss you

When you told Sam you're gonna graduate from college she bought you these Addidas shoes

And two slices of Carrot cake

Your first date with her was eating Carrot cake and she couldnt keep not staring in your hazel Green eyes

When you saw Sam working at the diner you saw her smile at you

"That girl who sits there. She is a cutie!" Said Sam

Her coworker and friend smiled. "Go talk to her!" Said Melissa.

Sam sighed. "What do I say?" She asked Melissa.

"What does she order for breakfast?" Melissa asked.

"Pancakes. She loves pancakes". Said Sam.

"Their's the topic of conversation". Said Melissa. "You got this girl!" She said

Sam walked to where you were sitting.

You smiled. "Morning". You said.

"Morning". Said Sam. "I noticed you always order pancakes. But, I never got your name".

"I'm Lexi". You said.

"Sam". She said.

"I'd like pancakes please. And an iced coffee". You said.

Sam wrote it down. "Got it. Hey, I know I dont know you but I see you're always by yourself. And, I'd like to have breakfast with you sometime". Said Sam.

You giggled. "I would love that. Sam, are you trying to have a date with me?" You asked.

Sam felt embarrassed. And nervous. "No. Yes, yes I am trying to have a date with you". Said Sam.

"How does tomorrow morning sound?" You asked.

Sam's face lit up out of happiness! "That sounds great! Here. Let me get your number. And my treat". Said Sam.

You smiled. And gave her your phone number.

Sam is super attached to you.

She loves to hold you as much as possible

She cant stop kissing you

Sleeping on Sam's chest makes you feel safe and warm

Sam loves to go shopping with you

She loves that you're always her date while taking you out on an iced coffee date

During date night she always gets you flowers

You love that Sam is so cuddly

Even in front of her friends Sam will put her arms around you

Even when Sam is cooking her arm is always around you

When ghostface showed up you fought ghostface and

Threw them out the window killing them instantly as they hit the ground

You felt so bad you cried all night long

When Sam, Tara, Anika, Chad, Mindy, and Danny talked to Kiby about what happened

The police and Kiby knew it was self defense

The police and Kirby are so proud of you for saving your girlfriend and Tara and your friends

When you and Sam watch a movie late at night you

Always sleep on top of Sam

Sam's kisses make you feel like you're on top of the world

Sam's hugs are your safe place

Her arms are so strong

And Sam's sex is so good you still feel exhausted even while sleeping a lot

One night you and Sam had sex on the chair when no one was in the apartment

Sam had on the strap on and you love to ride her and leave scratch marks on her back

In the shower Sam loves to get intimate with you

In the shower she loves to hold your body close to hers

When you ride her thighs

She's also your valentine!

And your secret Santa on Christmas eve

She'll always tell you she loves you and she'll always kiss you

She loves to hear your sleepy voice it makes her giggle

[clochanamarc]

@ppctts wanted to know what menu items pepper might inspire on the diner menu, and i got fairly fancy with them, but i also feel that henri (the two-michelin-star winning chef) would be thrilled to make these, so here we go! (in a starter format bc we need a thread, ur so right, i miss writing with you!)

" pepper! i'm so glad you're here! sit down, sit down, i need your opinion on these dishes! " aisling lands a tray containing a red ramekin, a shallow green dish piled high with pasta, and a yellow plate holding a thick sandwich with a side-salad.

" so this is what we've dubbed the eggplant pepper pot. it's all vegetarian, as are the other two dishes! but this one has slices of aubergine and bell pepper layered with parmesan, mozzarella cheese, and a spicy tomato sauce that ramsay added cayenne and a little brown sugar to. it's a real comfort food; we think if it gets the go-ahead, maybe we'd cook it in a bigger dish, give people an option of serving sizes! oh, and it comes with garlic bread, too. " she doesn't remove the lid from the ramekin yet. it's still the perfect temperature, and henri is glaring at her from the kitchen to ensure she doesn't remove it too soon.

" the next one is the fiery red pepper pasta. henri made a marinade for the tofu using soy sauce, chilli flakes and a little greek yogurt, and he insisted on using linguini. the sauce is actually something that victor and danny worked on together! marinara sauce with roasted red pepper, homegrown chilli, and garlic too. we agreed that a chicken alternative could be added, but i made it for the team dinner last night and nobody had any complaints! but it's your dish, so it only goes on the menu if you want it to. "

finally, aisling slides forward the yellow plate to join the others. two thick slices of sourdough toasted, with a fried egg cooked in chilli oil, crushed avocado, flash-fried spinach and two slices of tomato cooked in garlic. " it's called the rescue remedy. it turns out that etienne had a very fun night out followed by a very rough morning, and so we brainstormed this sandwich. the hangover didn't stand a chance! and i wanna take a minute to remind you that i don't mind adding all or none of them to the menu; it's totally your choice! so dig in! "

[lizamango]

I Like When You Say My Name (Frank Castle x Reader)

AN: Hi everyone I feel like shit so here’s a frank fic and wow I'm crying now what happening does anyone 18+ wanna be mutuals to talk fics, recommendations and writing advice? I wanna start writing smut but I can’t get past the taking their clothes off stage anywasyssss

summary: you get to know Frank, AKA Pete as he walks you home from work

warnings: none

wordcount: 1203

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist - I'll be adding frank and matt and billy

The same customer always comes in near the end of your night shift, ordering the same food every time.

“Can I have some of that coffee, ma’am?” He calls out, sitting by his usual place at a booth by the window.

You smile and walk over with the fresh pot, knowing he would be coming. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? You’re older than me…” you complain, jokingly. “Want anything else, sir?” You already know his order.

“Three eggs over easy, some bacon and sourdough toast if you have it.”

“Sure do,” you say, walking off to the kitchen.

“That guy here again?” Danny, your cook asks once he hears the order.

“Mhm,” you hum in acknowledgement.

“Who has breakfast at 4am?” He wonders out loud as he starts to cook.

You shrug even though he isn’t watching you. “Maybe he works a late shift so his sleep schedule is all weird. You’re telling me you’ve never craved breakfast for dinner?”

“I’m not convinced… he probably just has a crush on you or something so he keeps coming back here,” he teases. “Why don’t you offer him some pie?”

You laugh and roll you eyes. “Maybe I will. Would that shut you up?”

“Maybe if you ask him out…”

You walk away, leaving the nosey cook be to wipe down some tables even though you already did so earlier.

“You have a busy night?” The customer calls out.

“Little bit,” you reply. “What about you? What is it that you do…?”

“Pete,” he finishes for you.

“Pete,” you repeat with a small smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Danny rings the bell, letting you know that the food was ready. He gives you a wink as you pick up the tray and walk to Pete.

“You a full time waitress or…?” He strikes conversation.

“Part time,” you reply. I’m studying to be a vet.”

“Surgeon or nurse?”

“Surgeon. I got two years of vet school and I’ll be a full on doctor,” you say proudly.

“Congrats.” He gestures to the seat in front of him. “Why don’t you join me?”

You look around the diner hesitantly but there’s no one around. “Sure,” you smile and sit down awkwardly. You star at the salt shaker as he eats. “What about you?” You ask back, realising that you hadn’t.

“Construction,” he answers simply.

You watch him eat as if it was the best meal he’s had in days. “Must tire you out…” you comment.

“Sure does,’ he replies.

Your eyes shift to Danny who gives you a thumbs up.

“What time do you get off?” 

“6,” you answer a little too quickly.

“I’ll wait.”

“For what?”

“For you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you try to protest but he isn’t having it.

“Nonsense. Lotta dangerous people out there.”

“How do I know you’re not the dangerous one?”

“Oh I am dangerous, sweetheart. Just never to you.”

“You use that line on all the waitresses?” you tease.

“Just the ones I like,” he says boldly.

“Did you grow up here?”

“Nah, I’m from the west coast.”

Your brows shoot up. “That should make sense. You look like a hipster, Pete.”

He chuckles at your observation. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t be. They’re all the rage right now. I have 12 in my class.”

“If you want me to leave, you could just say so, ya know.”

“What will you do for an hour and a half?”

“Watch you work.” You laugh at how serious he sounds. “Hey, maybe I’ll go round the back and help Danny boy cook. He always seems more interested when I’m around.” He takes a sip of coffee and you get up to refill it despite his protests. “Time goes by when you people watch. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

“When did I agree?”

“Will ya stop teasin’ me, Y/N?” He says playfully.

You smile, looking up to meet his eyes. “I like when you say my name,” you tell him softly.

“I like saying your name.”

The bell on the door signals incoming customers and you get up before Pete could see you blush. They seat themselves and you approach them asking if they wanted something to drink.

The time goes by fast as you feel Pete’s gaze on you and he smiles whenever he catches your eye. You go to your locker, pack your apron into your bag and and put your jacket on.

“Ready to go?” Pete asks. You nod and bid goodbye to Danny as the morning staff come in. “I find it weird that New Yorkers walk everywhere,” Pete comments.

You smile. “It’s because there’s never any parking. But don’t worry, my apartment’s not far. It’s why I chose to work here.” You walk a few blocks in a comfortable silence, the chill of the early hours surrounding you. “Do you miss home? The warm?”

You don’t realise that that has a different meaning to him as thoughts of Maria and his children makes his blood run hot.

“I just needed a fresh start.” You slow to a stop as you reach your apartment building.

“Is that why…” you start before you could think about what you were saying.

“Why what?” Pete waits.

You freeze and you don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you.

“Y/N?” He prompts.

“Why you changed your name?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know, Pete. Danny doesn’t watch the news, he’s a kid but I do…”

He shakes his head slowly. “You don’t know anything about me.” He turns around but you catch his wrist.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Your name is Pete. You work in construction. You’re from the west coast that’s why you dress like a hipster.” You see him try to suppress a chuckle. “You love coffee. I might even say you’re addicted. You come in every Thursday and Friday at 4am to order the same thing. You like pie and I’m kicking myself because I forgot to offer you some but only because I was so excited at the mere thought of you walking me home. So much so that I took us the longer way around just to spend more time with you. And I didn’t even care that most of it was in silence! It was the best walk of my life.”

He turns around, keeping his hand in yours, placing his empty hands to your cheek and leans forward. He tastes like coffee and he smells like fresh aftershave and maybe a little sweat from working but it makes him even hotter. His beard brushes against you as his lips travel down to your neck sending tingles down your spine. You arch into him and squeeze his hand still in yours. Your other hand travels up to his soft locks as you push him into you, not wanting to lose this feeling and you just know that he’s leaving his mark on you. You should hate it but you don’t. You welcome it and get excited for more as you lead him up the steps, unlocking the complex and taking him up to your apartment.

💖

It could have gotten spicy if I could write smut I’m sorryyyyy

I’ve stopped crying now :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Smalltown Bringdown 1

Warnings: blood, violence, more to be added.

This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live in a smalltown run by a biker club. When your boss gets into debt, you find yourself drawn into the crossfire.

Note: Yesterday I tried writing Sugar, Sugar. That didn’t work out. I had a migraine on Monday that I’m still tiptoeing around. I wrote this a week ago but wanna continue it. Well, if there’s any interest in my doing so. So to those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!

Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

Birch was a small town, named for the line of pale tree at its heart. The streets were built around it. It had stood for centuries like a guardian over residents. Like a harbinger of their eventual fates. White as a ghost, looming like the reaper.

And death lived in Birch. It rode the streets on iron steeds. The apocalyptic horseman roaring down the roads in leather. Oblivion was the bar on the main road.; The Asp was a remnant of the town’s birth. An inn for those who claimed to discover this “new world”. Cleopatra reclined along the sign’s moniker, a snake around her arm, poised to sink its long fangs in her throat. 

Further down was the Chipped Saucer. The British were the first Europeans to settle here and when they supped with the Natives, they found their dishware cracked from their long journey. The tale outlived those early townsfolk painted across the window of sleepy old diner. The history of the forgotten town was long remembered because there, time didn’t seem to move very fast.

The town was more purgatory than hell. Few ever escaped it. You were among the trapped. A waitress in an aged yellow uniform and frilly white apron at the old diner. Sundays were busiest. The older folk were hungry after the weekly service and the younger residents were trying to caffeinate their hangovers.

You did your round of refills and returned the carafe to the machine. You took your time replacing the filter and adding the grounds. The rusted jingle of the bell above the door barely registered in your head. But the decisive stomp of boots did. Not just one set, not two, but more than you could count. You looked up as you closed the lid on the machine.

The diners sat frozen as if in a tableau. Not a single breath was drawn as you watched the leather-coated men walk between the tables. You didn’t need to see the patches on their backs to know who they were. Everyone knew who they were because they owned everything and everyone. The police, the town council, the mayor, and any who called Birch home.

Every small town has its dark secrets but the club had never really been a secret. The Howling Commandos had reigned since the boys returned from the war in 1945. Since, their mantle had been taken up by sons, nephews, cousins. Those glory days loomed as if it were only yesterday that the newspapers declared victory in Europe! Victor in Japan! Korea! Vietnam! Iraq! 

You skirted behind the counter as Lillian, the oldest of the waitresses, stood by the kitchen window. Artie, the cook, neared the other side and gave a grunt at the bikers kicking around the diner. 

“From what I heard,” He said loud enough for them to hear. “They serve hash down at The Asp, don’t they?”

“Artie,” Lillian hissed under her breath as she touched her immense bosom.

The diners, the servers, the bus boys, all exhaled in communal dismay. Mr. Elrich watched as Danny, the boy he’d once taught, took his mug of coffee and emptied it in a single gulp.

“Where’s Jimmy?” A golden-haired man stepped forward. 

You knew him. Knew of him. He had been a few years ahead of you in school. He was held back and sat beside you in math and copied off your tests. Steve Rogers was too much trouble for a browner like you.

“Jimmy’s out,” Artie waved his spatula. “Can’t you see these people are tryna enjoy their breakfast?”

“Jimmy’s out,” Steve repeated slowly as he neared the counter. “Well, that’s a first. I always thought he slept off his Saturday nights in his office. Least I always found him half-asleep at his desk. Definitely wasn’t working.”

“You come back later when he’s in,” Artie shook his head. “Goddamn, boy, my eggs are burning.”

“Artie,” Lillian and several other waitresses wailed at him.

“How long you worked here, Art?” Steve was close. You could smell the leather and smoke as he passed you. His hand was on the door as he glared at Art through the window.

“Be thirty years, soon enough,” Artie answered defiantly. “Since you were a kid tossing your pancakes at the wall, you brat.”

Steve chuckled and pushed through the door. Several women screamed and men shushed them at the flurry that followed. The crash of pans as Steve grabbed the old man by his collar and pushed him against the window. You stepped through the door before it swung shut.

“Don’t.” You pleaded. “Don’t hurt him. Jimmy’s not here. None of us have seen him since yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve shrugged you away. “Loyalty is admirable. The man pays your check, so I understand your insistence on protecting him. I only wish he was as diligent in paying his dues.”

“St-stop,” You squealed as he his hand wrapped around Artie’s thick throat. “Goddamnit, you know Artie. You know he means no harm.”

“I know he’s always had a mean mouth,” Steve snarled. “Where’s that spatula now, hmm? You gonna give me a swat, Art?”

You looked around. The waitresses gaped through the window as the men loomed around the tables. Amused, they crossed their arms and watched the helpless old cook struggle. On the long steel table behind Steve was a large knife. Your heart pounded as you inched around him.

“Steve, come on, you can wait around for Jimmy,” You offered. “I’m sure he’ll be in. Hell, you’ll have more luck heading down to his. I’m sure he’s sleeping it off there.”

“I came here to get the money and I’m not leaving without it.” Steve snarled. 

You bent slowly and took the knife, careful not to drag the blade on the floor. You stood and came around Steve. He glanced over as you pointed it at his neck. He chuckled as his eyes flashed.

“You don’t wanna do that, girl,” He warned.

“I don’t so long as you let him go,” You declared. “You go sit down, we’ll get you coffee, Art will cook you some bacon, and we’ll wait for Jimmy.”

“Don’t think I will.” Steve squeezed tighter as Artie turned red.

“Oh yeah?” You touched his neck with the blade’s edge. “You want Jimmy, no one’s keeping you from him but we can’t help you if you throttle poor Artie.”

A chuckle came from behind you. Deep and venomous. You looked slowly over your shoulder as the back door whisked shut. The knife slipped from your hand as you were faced with the barrel of a gun. The metal clattered to the tile as you dropped your arms and stared at the pistol’s mouth.

“You grew some balls since grade school,” Bucky remarked. 

Him and Steve had always been inseparable. You should’ve known he wasn’t far. And as the main shareholder in the Asp and therefore the club, he was owed more than any. It would be a mark on the crest not to collect the debt himself.

“Wish I could say the same of you,” You retorted. “So, you gonna shoot me?”

He laughed again and Steve did too. “Let the man go,” Bucky said. “There’s a safe in the office. If there’s not enough in there, we’ll empty the till.”

He lowered the gun. Slowly as if taunting you. You turned to check on Artie as he leaned heavily on the wall. Steve headed for the door to the back hall where Jimmy’s office was. 

“You okay?” You helped Artie stand straight. “You need some water. You should sit down. I’ll get Billy to finish service.”

“You are going to go out there,” Bucky said as he holstered his gun. “With the rest of the girls and stay away from sharp objects.” He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the door. “Artie, you get back to your tickets. These people look hungry.”

He shoved you through to the dining room and you stumbled into the counter. Artie coughed and wiped his sweaty hands on his apron. He waved at Billy, his sous chef, and ambled back to the grill.

It was a few minutes of tense silence filled only with the sound of pots, pans, and plates. As Artie called out an order and Lillian loaded her tray, Steve emerged from the back. Donny stood at the front door and kept any from leaving. Not than anyone had the strength or courage to even stand up.

“I don’t think we’re getting that thing open.” Steve said. 

“Hey!” Donny shouted and the door chimed as he pulled it open. 

Everyone watched as he raced out and chased Jimmy past the window. The small, greasy-haired man put up little fight against the burly biker and was dragged inside. 

“There you are, Jim,” Bucky swung the door open and brushed past you. “We were starting to get impatient.”

“Bucky,” Jimmy’s voice cracked. “What are you--”

“Jim, let’s not play this game,” Bucky snapped. “I think you know I haven’t brought everyone here for breakfast so why don’t you help us crack the code and we’ll be on our way.”

“Crack the code?” Jimmy whimpered.

“We found the safe,” Bucky crossed his arms. “So, you open it up and we’re on our way. I only came for what’s mine. For what you owe me.”

“I-I-I--” Jimmy stuttered.

“Grab him,” Bucky ordered and Steve was quick to grab the thin man by his scruff and drag him across the diner.

Bucky led the way into the kitchen and the weak struggle could be heard as they disappeared through the back door. Artie called another order and Kimmie balanced it on her tray. When the three men returned, Jimmy had a bloody lip and Steve carried a black bag of what could only be the safe’s contents.

“Well, you see, we still got a problem here, Jimmy.” Bucky hauled him over to the window by his arm. “That’s not even close to what you owe and you’ve got late fees on top of it. Dodging me all week like this.”

Jimmy looked ready to cry as Bucky took his hand and slammed hit flat on the window’s ledge. He held his wrist down as he reached to his waist. “Check the register.” Bucky ordered.

Steve went to the till and hit every button until it opened. He emptied the drawer and shook his head. “Not even a hundred.” He scoffed.

“Pity,” Bucky pulled a knife from his belt. “Well then, Jim, there’s only one thing for you to do; pick a finger.”

“Wha--” Jimmy yelped. “What do you--”

“You pick a finger or I will find something worse to cut off.” Bucky lowered the blade and Jimmy flinched away.

“Please,” Jimmy begged. “I’ll get the money. End of the week, I promise.”

“You said that last week,” Bucky countered. “And I can’t gamble my integrity as lightly as you do, Jim. So hurry up or I’ll make you pick two.”

“Uh…” Jimmy quaked and went pale. ‘Th-the pinkie.”

Bucky was quick. The knife cut easily through flesh and bone and blood pooled beneath Jimmy’s hand in second. You covered your mouth as your stomach flipped and several people wretched, some followed by sloppy splats onto the floor. 

Bucky held up the finger and admired it before he tucked it into his pocket and patted Jimmy on the back. “One week for the rest of it, Jim.” He strode through the door and stopped just beside the counter. He turned to you and smirked as he took the cloth from your apron pocket. “Get some pressure on that before he passes out, will ya?”

He handed you the cloth and winked. He nodded to his men and they filed out the door without another word. You blinked and shook yourself from your shock. You pushed through the kitchen door and grabbed Jimmy’s hand as he held his wrist. You pushed the rag to his severed pinkie and he hissed.

“Someone call an ambulance,” Your voice seemed to break the pall that had fallen over the diner. “Please!”

💀

By Tuesday, it was as if nothing had ever happened at the Chipped Saucer. The usual customers stopped by for their breakfast or lunch and Artie was back to his grumpy ways. The only thing that remained was the blood stain on the window ledge. And the bandage on Jimmy’s hand.

When you were done your shift, you hung your apron on its hook in the back and clipped your name tag on it. You covered up your hideous yellow dress with your black cardigan and grabbed your purse before you headed out. Your mother texted you to grab some cheese on your way home and a sixer of Blue for good measure. 

You stopped by the grocer first and added a box of oreos to your bill. The liquor store was just next door and the after work crowd strolled its aisles. You traipsed to the back, the paper bag balanced against your hip as you browsed the cans and bottles. You grabbed some Blue and turned to head to the check out. You were the only person left in the aisle, well aside from one. Likely the reason for the sudden desolation.

Bucky Barnes stood before you in his leather jacket. You hadn’t noticed him there at the end of the shelf, watching you, arms crossed. You sighed and walked towards him, deliberately sidestepping him. You stopped short as he blocked you with his arm.

“Not even a hello?” He mused.

You scoffed and shook your head and stepped to the other side. He blocked you just as quickly. You tilted your head wryly and he smiled. 

“What do you want?”

“To talk.” He said evenly.

“Mmhmm,” You rolled your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m not up for it.”

You tried to shake him again and he caught you around your waist. “Honey, honey, honey.” 

You wriggled away from him and almost dropped your armful. 

“You had a gun in my face two days ago. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You had a knife to my man’s throat.” He said. “Think we’re even.”

“Just say whatever it is you want so that I can go home.” You grumbled.

“How you like working over there at the Saucer?”

“What?” You shook your head.

“Seems slow. Tips any good?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You challenged.

“Well, we got an opening at The Asp and you’ve got experience serving.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d put that out there. Not many ways to move up in this town.”

“I don’t wanna work at a dive.” You said through your teeth. “You done?”

“Sure.” He backed up and turned so he was almost against the shelf. He waved you past him. “Go home. Relax.” You began to step by him and he spoke again. “Say hi to your ma.”

You stopped but didn’t look back at him. You swallowed and carried your sixer to the counter. You set it down and dug for your wallet with one hand. 

“It’s been covered.” Larry said as he scratched his thick mustache and glanced at Bucky. The biker pretended to peruse the white wines.

“No, it hasn’t.” You slammed a bill on the cans. “You give him his money back. Or keep it. I couldn’t care less.”

You waited for your change and grabbed the beer. You kept your head high as you swept out onto the street and past the motorcycle parked across two spots. You’d have to barter a can off your mom when you got in.

💀

On Friday, Jimmy called you to his office. He never called anyone to his office. Well except Kimmie but that’s because everyone knew what was going on between them. So you punched out and headed to the small back room with the dented metal desk from the 60s and the cinder block wall poorly disguised with flowery wallpaper. You knocked then entered when he replied.

You sat in the small chair with the orange cushion. The same one you’d sat your interview in. Jimmy spun his pen in his hand. He was jumpy. More than usual. The small safe hidden beside his filing cabinet was scratched but still in tact. He dropped the pen and twined his fingers together.

“So, uh, yeah,” He blinked and sniffed. “Well, this isn’t… easy. Not quite sure how to say it really.”

You were quiet. Confused. You scrunched your lips and listened. You had a bad feeling. Unusual things didn’t happen for no reason. Not in a small town.

“Heh, well, I’m sure you know I’ve come into some financial hardship and, well, it looks like...uh,” He sat back and smoothed his greasy, thinnng hair. “I’m gonna have to let you… go.”

“Let me go?” You repeated. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I need the, uh, cash,” He turned back and forth in his chair. He was nervous.

“Cash. Sure. You couldn’t sell that heap of junk parked outside?” You sneered. “I have no doubt this has something to do with those goons but I don’t think you’re being honest about the why.”

“Look, I’m real sorry. You’ll get severance.” He sputtered.

“You can’t afford to keep me on but you can afford the pay out?” You scoffed and stood. “Let me ask you, have you received any other visits from your friends at The Asp?”

He shook his head frantically.

“Yeah, you haven’t been around Larry’s to grab a mickey at all? Or passing by? Maybe Tuesday night?”

“It’s a small town. I got nowhere to hide.” He cowered.

“Suppose there’s nothing else to say. Nothing I can say.” You threw up those hands. “You tell Bucky you were a good boy, okay?”

“I…”

“I get it. You owe them.” You started to turn away. “When should I expect my cheque.”

“Usual,” He answered glumly. “I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You stopped by the door. “You remember how sorry you are the next time you pick up a cue, eh.”

💀

Another trip to the liquor store, this one unimpeded. A bottle of wine from some unheard of vineyard on some distant island. You carried it home in the bag, its shape visible beneath the wrinkled paper. You went in the back way, as you always did. Your mother’s dog, Ash, wiggled his bum as you stopped to pet him. You let him inside as you entered the kitchen.

Your mother was at the counter, working on dinner. You set the bottle on the table heavily and sat. You let your purse fall to the floor and sighed.

“Hey, hon,” She said. “How was your day?”

You grumbled and unsheathed the bottle. You crumpled the bag and tossed it in the middle of the table. You unscrewed the lid and drank from the long neck. Your mom stopped her chopping and turned with a hand on her hip.

“Rough one?” She asked.

“I got fired.” You said numbly.

“Fired? For what?”

You shrugged and took another drink. She huffed and set aside her knife. You listened as she opened and closed a cupboard and crossed to you. She set down a glass. 

“Pace yourself.” She reproached.

You frowned and filled the glass to the rim. She tutted and went back to the counter. 

“It’s because of them.” You said at last.

She looked at you but kept quiet. She knew who you meant.

“Some kind of game.” You muttered.

“Oh, Lillian told me about your heroics.” Your mother sighed. “I knew you weren’t telling me something.”

“Christ, ma, they were gonna give Artie a heart attack,” You exclaimed. “What was I supposed to do? He’s a defenseless old man.”

“And? The Commandos are thugs. They have no qualms against old men and young women.” She dumped her cutting board in the pot and covered it. “Losing your job is nothing. You could’ve lost a lot more messing around. You know how things work.”

“Not as well as you, yeah?” You drank deeply. “Dad learned it the hard way, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” She assured you and took a glass of her own from the cupboard. She sat with you at the table. “You’ll find something else. Something better than the diner. That little tourism place, they need a new receptionist.”

“Great, I’ll get my resume printed tomorrow.” You poured her a more modest glass. “It’s a show. Don’t worry, ma. They just want to wave their-- well, you know.”

“You just stay clear of them. Let them find bigger fish to fry,” She advised. 

[georgemackayhey]

Worth Fighting For (Part: Two)

summary: You’re entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn’t got to put up much of a fight… but in a way, that’s all he knows to do.

a/n: Now is a good time to mention that I know nothing about boxing. My only refreance is a movie about mma and one nights worth of basic research. But all that matters is I'm having buckets of fun writing this! The angst starts to creep in this chapter. Let me know what yall think!

w/c: 4k

Part 1

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was the end of an exceptionally long weekend. You'd managed to throw together last minute choreography for the kids school play, taught a wedding party how to waltz, and helped a friend nail her audition for a foreign dance company.

It was easy as ever, with a broken hand. But everything else was increasingly difficult. You were still getting used to using your one, lame hand to do laundry and cook dinner. But at least you could still dance.

There was nothing better than pumping the  music and moving until it ached. Until all you had to worry about was locking up and racing home to shower, and all the things you'd been anxious about all week had long fled to the very back of your mind.

But the weekend was over, and you didn't have an excuse to stay in the studio now that all the kids who came to learn were long gone. But you had a perfectly sound reason for taking longer to do you post class stretches. As you took your sweet time sliding into your jacket and switching out the lights, you kept your eye on the window to the hallway. You tried not to look too obvious, but there was a silly, desperate hope inside of you; to see George.

The gym door remained shut, raucous music thumbing from somewhere deep inside, as you dragged your feet out in the hall. You tried not to look like you were casting glances over your shoulder, or seem too disappointed when you found no one there. When the door to your studio was locked and your adrenalin from class dwindled away, you went on your way.

And while you tried not to think about the funny feeling you got in your chest at the thought of George, you shoved open the door to the parking lot. The sky was a bleak grey and a chill crept past your layers of brightly colored clothes.

"Took you long enough." A voice crept close over your shoulder, causing you to spin around with a gasp.

George was leaning against the stone of the building, the hood of his pale jacket up over his head, strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How's your hand?" He asked, like he really cared to know.

"Oh, I'm managing." You decided with a smile, happening to glance at George's. "How's yours?" You asked, noticing bruises on his knuckles that weren't there the weekend before.

George seemed confused, for a beat, before glimpsing down at his fingers.

"Oh, this is nothing." He said. And before you could choose one the dozens of questions you had, you decidedly moved on.

"What are you waiting on?" You asked in a nervous giggle, glancing to his car a few parking spaces away.

"You, obviously." George rose a brow and reached for his bulky canvas bag that rested near his feet. You watched his lean figure shift as he carried the weight over one shoulder and stepped closer.

"Come on, It's my turn to treat you to DeAngelo's." He explained, walking past you to his sleek vintage car. The familiar screech of the city bus caught your ear, and you looked over to notice it stall to a stop, before you followed George's lead.

The ride was quiet. You spent most of the time pretending to be distracted by your chipping nail polish. Even in his silence George was captivating. You couldn't be sure if he'd noticed you stealing glances at him as he drove; but every time you did, you wouldn't let yourself look long.

You couldn't be sure why stepping foot into the diner to get felt different. Maybe it was because you weren't alone. You were mixed among dozens of other dinner parties and the combined white noise of everyone's collective chatter set you at ease. You weren't as shy to let your gaze linger on George as he studied you across the same booth as before.

And much like then, your conversations started mildly. He asked what you were going to order, and you tried not to feel too embarrassed for listing off the same meal. But he grinned and said he was going to do the same. And right as your conversation opened up to grow ever deeper, you were interrupted.

"Miss y/n!" An excited, drawn out greeting rang from a small boy who was busy bouncing your way. You didn't need to turn to know it was little Louis. He was one of your most loyal students. And though you'd never say it to anyone, the small kid was your favorite budding ballerina. Perhaps because he cared so unabashedly for you, too.

All four feet and fifty pounds of the curly headed boy crashed into your side of the booth, his little arms reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let out a surprised gasp and turned to try and greet the boy as soon as you realized he'd appeared.

"Today was lot's of fun. Can we do more big jumps next week?" The boy broke away from you to peer up, big brown eyes full of hope. You chuckled a little and assured the boy you'd planned on it. That's about the time his mother shuffled over, apologizing for her eight years old interrupting your dinner.

"It's alright." You assured, sheepishly glancing over to George who was sat back watching on with a coy grin. The kind of smile that- if you were younger and less confident, might have made you insecure. But knowing the little you did about George, you read no mocking in his expression. Only something more vulnerable you couldn't quite make out yet. You wondered all of a sudden just how exactly to get him to open up, and wondered hopelessly if you'd ever get the chance.

"I'm always glad to see you, Louis." You grinned at the boy, still glancing up to you in the sweetest way. "He's never missed a class in two years." You bragged to George now, who let his grin stretch a little wider.

Then you got the good sense to introduce the guy across from you. You gave his name away, and mentioned that he taught at the gym at Fit For All. Louis mother seemed to light up at the mention.

"Oh, you're Geogre? You know my oldest son, Danny. He talks about you all the time." The woman whose dark roots were nearly longer than the dyed blonde bits of her hair gleamed, and Geogre seemed to glow, too.

"Oh, yes. He's always at the gym, it seems." George sat up a little, peering to the woman Louis belonged to. The mother explained that her eldest wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a boxer. But a shoulder injury at the tail end of highschool ruined his chances. So Danny traded boxing for running, and had completed several marathons since.

George said the guy was great at encouraging the kids who frequented Fit For All, no matter which lesson they showed up for. It was your turn to smile and watch as George and his friends mother gushed over the guy who wasn't even around.

When Louis was coaxed from your side back to his mothers he gave you one final hug and raced her to a table across the room. A silence fell between you and George once more, but it was more familiar than ever. George was the first to break it.

"He was sweet." George smiled, reaching for his drink.

"Must run in the family." You pointed out. "I didn't realize Louis even had a brother."

"Danny is a good guy. He always knows just what to say. Not only to the kids, but to me too, some days." George let out a little laugh. A nervous, slightly bittered chuckle. And while it made you realize a little something more about him, it added to the complexity of George all the while. This guy was going to drive you nuts in no time. You'd let him.

///

And that's how it started. Every Friday, around the same time, you'd pile into George's ride and one of you would cover the bill for DeAngelo's.

Sometimes you got held up, trying to help a girl learn her steps for the schools annual talent show. You'd find Geogre had lingered in and made himself at home on the folded up mats near the door. You caught his gaze in the wall length mirror and tried to hide your blush while you danced on.

Other times, he'd be running behind. You shuffled outside to find George in the middle of what seemed to be a serious conversation with a familiar guy around your age. It was Danny, and you were introduced for the first time like you'd been friends forever. You found the rumors about the guy were true, even in the first few minutes of meeting. Danny mentioned his little brother mentioning you nonstop, and said how he'd been waiting to put your face to your name. George ended the small talk by reaching over and nudging you toward his car.

The slight touch of his arm against yours made you feel different than the only other time he'd touched you before. The last was when he'd rushed in to monitor your injured hand. And you couldn't feel much of anything. But now, when George leaned into you, pushing you away all the while, your nerves seemed to dance on end. But Danny's pleasant goodbye tore your thoughts away, and you waved your working hand to the guy and hoped out loud to see more of him.

Then George drove you to DeAngelos for another week in a row.

///

You hadn't really realized how much time had passed until snow started to fall. Granted the weather seemed to change much earlier than it ever had years prior. But it changed all the same, and it seemed to draw attention to the tradition you'd made of going to dinner with George.

You sat in the same spot almost everytime. And you talked about the same sorts of things. There were always complaints shared, about the growing cold, and the things that held up your week. There was always some kind of exciting news to share, about a new movie coming to town, or the things you'd accomplished during work. You even spoke about things you hadn't been keen on discussing with most other people. Like your relationship with your family and the scariest parts of highschool. Because George asked. He asked you more about yourself than he ever dared to mention his own stories.

"When are you gonna let me come watch you teach kids how to throw a punch, huh?" You teased. George had lingered in the doorway to catch the tail end of a handful of your lessons, by now. And he was always done for the night, when yours ended early.

As you ate your usual dinner, he kept his demure smile and rolled his dazzling blue eyes your way, before changing the subject. And you wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk, so you let your question go unanswered.

"We've been coming here a lot." He pointed out, plain and simply. But the comment made your heart feel like it had grown a layer of steel , sinking ever so slightly.

"Would you rather us go someplace else?" You wondered in a light manner, trying not to seem let down at the possibility of ending your tradition.

"Course not. I'm saying I like coming here." George smiled, then added, "With you."

You bit back your grin from spreading too widely and let the familiar bout of quiet follow.

///

But the next weekend was different and it was all your fault. Your water heater broke on Tuesday. And your landlord called back Wednesday night to say he couldn't help you fix it till he came back to town next week. You had to postpone Friday's class when you realized you were in too deep trying to fix the issue yourself. And while you fiddled with the matter with your non broken hand, a deep regret flooded your system when you realized George would miss you and you had no way of letting him know.

You worried all evening at the thought of standing him up. You crossed your working fingers that he'd still be keen to see you the next weekend; and tried to accept the fact that since your tradition had been broken, the thin connection you shared with George might now forever be lost, too.

By the end of your next week, your landlord was still off on holiday, and had taken to ignoring your texts asking for help. How hard was it for him to call a local mechanic to send your way before he left to go tanning for the day, or whatever?

And as you bared another cold shower and grumpily hurried to head to the studio, your power went out.

"No, no no!" You whined, flipping a light switch a dozen times in a row and wishing and hoping and praying everything would come back to life. You took a deep breath, rushed to the closet where the panel that held your home's power was, and were disappointed to find flipping a few switches there did absolutely nothing. You didn't have time to worry. You couldn't let your kids down again.

Some of them were already lingering outside of the studio when you rushed in, stomping away snow. Little Louis actually cheered and dashed your way for a hug, like he did. You smiled, set at ease by the child's sweet nature.

Then you taught him and a dozen others to dance, and let your worries fade away for an hour and a half. George hadn't slipped into the studio when the clock ticked past your usual meeting time. You tried not to let yourself feel disappointed when your kids shuffled home. You only wrapped up for the day and started to worry over your situation all over again.

But as you locked the doors to the studio, Danny was making his way out into the hall, and George was trailing close behind.

"Hey kid!" Danny glowed, turning to greet you in the dim hall. You shot him a pleasant smile, despite everything, trying not to catch George's gaze. Because his expression was so familiar, now. And he was looking right at you in a way you realized he so often did. And you'd let him down last week, and you had to do it again, now.

He shouldered past Danny as the bulky fellow seemed to decide to go home. He gave you both a quick goodnight before making his way toward the heavy doors. Then you were left alone with the guy you hadn't stopped thinking of since the time he held an ice pack to your knuckles.

"Where've you been?" He asked, like he was much more concerned than disappointed. And while that was nice, it wasn't enough to stop you from wanting to cry a little. God you hoped you didn't look the way you felt.

"I'm so sorry I missed last weekend." You started, shifting in place, under George's study on you. "My water heater broke. Then my power went out. So, now I've got to go home and figure out what to do. I hate to miss another one of our dinners but-"

"What do you need?" His question interrupted your rambles to a halt. You held your breath and looked to the guy for a curious beat before explaining yourself.

"Well I'm just going to grab some things and find a place to stay. Probably just that Motel on Second Street. My landlord is such a-"

"The Second Street Motel?" George grimaced, like he had memories of the place he wasn't over yet. "That place is a dump. And they'll over charge you. Why don't... if you'd like... well you could stay with me." George's confident speech dwindled into something meek as he spoke on. It made you chuckle a little, the way he'd surprised you when you least expected it. And when a moment of quiet passed as you searched his stunning blues eyes, George spoke up more assuredly.

"Only if you want."

"Only if you're sure." Your smile fell away as  dozen of nerves rose to your throat as you responded.

"Come on." He nodded, turning to the door in the same fashion he'd always do when you were headed to the one of the only other places you'd gone together. His ride to the urgent care was courteous. His company at DeAngelos was kind. And his offer for you to spend the night was an all new layer of generosity that made you feel the way you did when he touched you a few weeks ago.

///

He waited in his car while you used the flashlight on your phone to throw a few things in a bag. Between your toothbrush, your night clothes, and some things for the morning, you forced yourself not to think about what was happening. You just urged your feet to move and tried not to seem too excited to settle back into George's car.

He drove to his place in a silence that felt different than all the other times before. And when you stole a glance over to him, you could have sworn he'd just turned away from looking over to you. The thought danced through your mind till his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside a row of townhouses. They were just a few roads away from your own, in a quiet, bleak part of town.

George held open his front door as you stepped in from the cold, a baby blue backpack full of essentials in your clutch. And all of your expectations for what Geogre's home might have looked like were not only unmet, but left you with more questions about the guy than ever.

The home was neatly decorated in pale colors. Plants and picture frames decorated every shelf and corner, and the dish towel in his kitchen matched the tea kettle on the stove. It was reminiscent of a much older person's space, with a vibrant charm of someone much more spry. You padded to the cozy living room as Geogre disappeared around a corner, leaving you to think up a dozen more questions about the fellow you were determined to get to the bottom of.

As you eased onto the navy sofa and abandoned your bag, a light came on in the hall and an old orange cat came prancing toward your feet. You glanced down to the pet as it meowed up to you, and stretched to balance against your knees. You cooed, reaching to pet it, before the animal jumped into your lap.

"That's Sadie." George spoke, stepping into the room, slowly making his way toward the sofa. "I was going to apologize for her disregard for personal space but you don't seem to mind." He chuckled.

"Not at all, she's lovely." You grinned, cradling the cat like a baby as purs rattled her delicate frame. George seemed to watch on as you admired the pretty animal in your arms. And when you dared to look back up to him, he sat up a little, from where he was perched on the edge of the couch.

George said something about ordering take away from a place nearby, and you agreed with the condition that you got to pay for it, too make up for his kindness in letting you stay in his lovely home. And much to your surprise, when you realized it anyhow, you felt perfectly content waiting around with George, for the pizza to be delivered. He stuck to his end of the sofa, while you settled into yours, holding fast to Sadie all the while. You talked about usual things, and even laughed over some others, until there was a knock at the door.

George went to answer, as you trailed toward the kitchen, stopping in the hall to admire some of the photos on the wall. There were plenty of his family, or maybe just friends. And even some of George, dressed in boxing gloves, at who must have been his father's side. The older man who looked so much like George held up an award as his son stood by with a shy smile and messy hair.

George found you gawking at his frames on his mission to set the box of pizza on the table.

"This photo is sweet. Did you win this garish award?" You teased, turning to find George wearing a grin reminecent of the one he sported in the photo.

"I did." He said.

"But you don't really do this sort of thing anymore..." You spoke, halfway asking why in the gentlest way you knew that might pry open his closed off manner.

"No I haven't for a while." George said. He poured you both a strong drink, the kind DeAngelos didn't serve.

"Why is that?" You wondered, easing to one of the wooden paint chipped seats at George's kitchen table. You watched him take a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, as you reached for your own.

"It got to be too much." He said, easier than anytime before. Like he actually wanted to tell you. And you kept a quiet eye on him, hoping if you waited long enough, he'd keep talking.

And much to your patient delight, he did.

"I started going to Fit after school, when I had nothing better to do. I'd stay till close, because I didn't want to go home." George explained. You took small bites of pizza and listened on, eyes softly glued to George's every word. And as he ate, he told you that he didn't have a very easy time growing up. How his father was sick, and his mother was never around. How George never thought of his future because he was busy worrying about each day at a time. You could tell he didn't talk about it. Any of it. So you just kept sipping your drink and offering gentle encouragement for him to keep going. Because you wanted to know. You desperately cared to know.

George told you that on one of Bareny's regular stops in, the gym owner took notice of George. How he'd listen to the distant encouragement some coaches gave to students in the ring. How he didn't have the money to take those lessons and stuck to practicing on the mats in the corner. How Bareny noticed, and asked George if he'd like to be trained. How he took up the owners generous offer, free of charge.

And when you nudged him to keep talking by asking all the right questions, George explained that Barney helped him enter into matches that he won like an old pro. How exhilarating it was at first. But those nights would end and George would go home and he would hate it. You knew better than to ask why, as he moved on. You just hoped this was the beginning of him letting you in bit by bit. The first of many stories.  You downed the last of your drink while George finished his pizza.

"Well you might not box anymore but I'd still love to watch you teach kids how." You laughed, watching George crack a smile across the table from you. He thanked you for covering dinner and you thanked him for letting you stay over. Then you launched into a sudden ramble about how stressed out you were about what to do, how it might be better to move than to keep combating your landlord. But how you didn't have the funds to put toward either of those options.

"God sorry I sound like a cry baby." You laughed, resting your glass in George's sink as he stored the left over pizza away.

"No you don't. You sound worried, and I'm sorry to hear it. Letting you stay over is the least I could do, really." George shrugged, shifting to face you. He stood a step away, keeping his intimidating gaze on yours. The kind of glare that might have made you feel small if you didn't know George. But you saw past the way he stood so tall and stoically. You saw more of him tonight than you ever had before. And that's what made you unsure of what to say next.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up now." You spoke with a gentle nod, heading to collect your bag. George showed you to the bathroom at the end of the hall before turning away and saying something about changing, himself.

You were left to bask at your reflection in the harsh golden light as the bathroom fan buzzed overhead. You dug through your backpack to find the nightclothes you'd brought along and thought of George as you stepped into the shower. The water was hot, pelting your shoulder blades with a warmth you hadn't had the luxury of experiencing all week. But you hurried along, mindful not to use up all the hot water.

When you changed and took a deep breath and peered back to the mirror, it was covered in steam. So you zipped up your backpack and made your way back out into George's home. Sadie was waiting patiently outside of the door. She wove between your feet as you took care not to step in her path before she settled to walk at your side. Was this some kind of dream, you wondered? Some kind of idyllic alternate universe, where nothing was the matter and the space you occupied was warm and safe and shared by the boy you hadn't stopped thinking of for months in a row?

At the end of the hall, George's bedroom door was open. A soft amber light shone from the bedside lamp you could see. George appeared into view as you were drawn to the space like a moth to a flame. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a pair of cotton joggers you'd never seen him wear before. His yellow hair appeared slightly damp and he looked happy, somewhere in the depths of his usually guarded expression. He looked at home.

Sadie brushed past your ankle, out of the hall and into the living room, leaving you and George the most alone you'd ever been.

He stalled in the doorway as you halted your floating closer. His eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them, sleepier; maybe.

"Right, well goodnight I suppose." You smiled, trying not to let your eyes rake over his figure. You could practically feel how close he was.

"Right." George seemed to decide, letting his eyes search yours for a beat before his glance drifted over your shoulder.

"I'll find you some blankets." He said, slowly stepping past you. But before he could drift down the hall you stopped him. Somehow, you spoke without even thinking, without even knowing you were brave enough.

All you said was his name, like a question. And that was all it took. George turned on a dime and kissed you. He crashed his lips against yours and tangled his long fingers in your hair as he cradled your head. His grip was the only thing holding you in place as you melted into a puddle, against him. When you started kissing George back, he moved one hand down the length of your side as he made one swift move to pin you against the wall. You couldn't help but let out a surprised breath, a sigh, a laugh of some kind.

George responded by kissing you harder, until you could hardly breath. And when you stopped kissing him back to do just that, you felt George's gentle grip against the exposed skin of your hip; tighten ever so slightly.

"Do I still have to sleep on your sofa?" You asked what felt like one dozen questions in one. Your fear of ruining the one in a million moment disguised by a lithe smile. George responded by letting out a laugh, his eyes nearly closing as he did. And when he was finished, he said;

"Come on."

You followed George to his bed, not daring to hide your excitement. He pulled you in with a smile, perhaps the broadest of smirks you'd seen him sport. There was still so much you longed to know about George. So many questions you were eager to ask, so many things you longed to hear him talk about. But spending the night sharing his pillow was a good place to start, you figured. You hadn't expected it of course. You never knew what was next with George. You'd only, simply, hoped for a next time. And with the way he looked at you now, and held on, you rekonned maybe he didn't want you to stray too far, either.

───※ ·❆· ※─── taglist: @haileymorelikestupid​  @maria-josefin​​ @imaginesandyeah​​ @queen-bunnyears @okaymackay​

[maxineswritingcenter]

Class Reunion - Sam x fem!reader pt 4

Read part 3 here!

Summary: Sam and Dean hit up a case in a town they lived in for Sam's senior year of high school. While on a supply run, Sam runs into reader who he dated that year. Reader invites him to the class reunion. Sam is hesitant but the case leads to the reunion. SPARKS FLY BITCHES

To be on the taglist, send me an ask.

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

The next morning, (Y/N) was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was Friday, the day of the big reunion. Normally being nervous for that event was fine. But considering there was a murderer on the loose made everything more difficult. She was more on edge now that there was a connection between the victims and the perp. The football team, the cheer squad, and Liza who approved the prank. Would she be next? She was staring off into space when Sam walked in.

"Morning." He smiled and kissed her cheek. She blinked out of her blank stare and smiled at him.

"Good morning." He was wearing casual clothes: boots, jeans, and a flannel. Oh did he look good in a flannel.

"Need help with anything?" He asked and stood besides her.

"Well, I could use a little sugar." She winked at him. He smirked and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.

"Awh, not over the food." Dean's voice made them jump apart. (Y/N) blushed a deep shade of red.

Dean yawned and sat at the table, "You guys have fun last night?" He winked.

(Y/N) hummed and brought the pan of bacon over to him, "Not a word, Winchester. Not a word."

Dean smirked, "Hey, if I get bribed with bacon, I don't know a thing." She rolled her eyes, putting a few stripes of bacon on his plate.

"Jared!" She called, "Breakfast!" Soon after a groggy Jared came down the stairs. He was wearing jeans and a blue long sleeve shirt. His brown hair was messy, but the intentional messy. Like maybe he ran a brush through it. He went to the fridge and got out the cranberry juice, pouring himself a glass.

"Isn't that stuff tart?" Dean asked, watching the kid down the whole glass in a few gulps. Jared blinked a few times and shook his head.

"Yeah, wakes me up." He poured himself another glass and sat at the table. (Y/N) came over with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. She came back and patted Sam on the chest, "Whatcha want?"

Sam, resisting the urge to say 'you', shook his head, "Not really hungry." He grabbed a piece of toast from the the toaster. She smiled and finished cooking everything before sitting at the table with the food.

Just as she was about to start eating, both her phone and Sam's phone started to ring. Sam looked at Dean, "It's Witicker." He stood up and left the room. (Y/N) grabbed her phone from the counter. Dean and Jared ate silently.

In the other room, Sam answered the phone, "Agent Forester."

"Hey Agent, we got another one. Bus driver, Zack Dooley. Same MO as before."

"Alright, uh, Sheriff, we have a possible lead. My partner and I will be attending the reunion tonight to keep watch." Sam said.

"Sounds good." The sheriff said, "See you then." He hung up and went back into the kitchen just as (Y/N) came back.

"Who was that mom?" Jared asked, looking up from his plate.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down, "Sweetie, that was the school. Your bus driver got attacked by an animal last night. He passed away this morning. I'm sorry."

Jared looked at her confused, "Mr. Dooley? He was nice." He sat there for a minute, processing what he'd heard.

"How am I going to get to school?" He asked after a while.

"Uh, I can take you." Sam said, "Drive around town in the Impala." He suggested. Jared nodded and stood up.

"I'll grab my bag." He said softly and left the room. Sam stood up and moved around, putting a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"He was in student council too." She said, eyes wide, "Now he's going after us."

Dean looked at her, "Hey, we'll keep you and Jared safe." She nodded, putting a hand on Sam's before standing up when Jared came back. Jared didn't look okay. He hiding his face and rubbing his eyes to fight away tears. (Y/N) made him lift his head, brushing the hair out of his eyes. She gave him a soft smile.

"Sometimes life isn't fair. And really nice people get hurt. But you have to remember them as they were. Not how they died." She watched him nod.

"Come here." She said softly, pulling her into his arms. He hugged her back, hiding his face in her shoulder. She rubbed his back as he let out a few sniffles.

"I love you." She said as she pulled away.

"I love you too, mom." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He looked at Sam and nodded, "I'm ready."

Dean tossed Sam the keys from his pocket, "One scratch and I'm comin' after the laptop." He scolded. Sam gave him an annoyed look before leading Jared out the door.

-

The car ride was silent for the first half, until words burst from Sam's mouth after he spent ten minutes trying to figure out what to say.

"Your mom was right. Gotta remember people for the good times." When Jared didn't answer and just stared out the window, Sam continued, "Ya know, my dad died about fourteen years ago. I tried to think of the good times. And there weren't a lot. But when there were, those are the times I like to remember. We butted heads but, I understand why he raised us the way he did."

Jared spared Sam a glance before looking back out the window, "I never knew my dad." Sam pulled into the school and put the Impala in park.

"Well, even if you don't know it, your dad loves you. You're a great kid. It didn't seem like it, but my dad loved Dean and I." He said, not trying to spill the big secret yet.

"How can you love someone you don't know exists." Jared grumbled and got out of the car, leaving Sam feeling more guilty than he did before.

-

"Kid's breaking my heart already." Sam said as he came back inside the house.

"What happened?" (Y/N) asked as she put on earrings.

"He said how can someone love you when they don't know you exist?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

Dean shook his head, "Jared is really upset about this." (Y/N) shook her head, tearing up.

"I didn't know how hard this was effecting him. I didn't know." She let out a little sob, "I'm such an idiot."

"Hey hey.." Sam pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back, "You did what you thought was best. We'll explain tonight."

She nodded against his chest, "I just hope nothing bad happens tonight. You catch the guy and he goes behind bars."

Dean looked at Sam and nodded. Sam sighed, "I don't think he'll get out of this alive." She pushed away from him and took a step back.

"You're going to kill him? Where's the justice in that?" She put her hands on her hips.

Dean took a step forward and motioned to the table, "(Y/N), you might wanna sit for what were about to tell you." She reluctantly sat, looking at the brothers differently.

"We're not FBI. We're not even law enforcement. That's our cover." Sam began, "We hunt monsters. Real monsters like vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and demons. We go from town to town hunting them to keep people safe."

She was looking at them like they were crazy. Sam thought of a different approach, "Remember when we went to the diner one night and we saw something in the woods then Dean just happened to show up covered in black goo?"

She nodded slowly, "You said it was oil from the Impala."

Dean nodded, "It wasn't oil. It was ectoplasm. Because theguy you saw barfed it all over me and took off into the woods."

"And the pentagram you on the back of the Impala wasn't because dad was into metal, it's to keep the weapons secure." Sam said, watching as the gears turned in her head.

"Monsters are real. And you're telling me Danny is one. So you have to kill him." She said the thoughts as they clicked. Sam nodded slowly, trying to get a read on her.

"Which is why we're going to take him down so the town is safe, and most importantly, you and Jared are safe." Dean said, leaning against the table.

"Okay." Her voice shook. But then she cleared her throat and stood up, "Okay, so what's the game plan? Should I keep everyone to the gym?"

"That's a perfect idea." Sam said, "Just keep everyone there the best you can." She nodded, "Okay. I can do this." She smiled and grabbed her keys.

"I'm going to the school to set up the gym." She said confidently and went out the door.

Dean watched her leave, slightly impressed, "Either she's freak outta her mind or she's taking this well."

"I'd say a little bit of both." Sam said, watching her leave from the window.

-

That night, the brothers met with the Sheriff outside of the school. He was wearing jeans and a lettermen's jacket. Sam was having flashbacks to high school and not ones he particularly enjoyed.

"Alright, boys. I'll take first watch out here, you two search inside in case he's already in. And if you see anything suspicious, come find me." He said. Dean and Sam nodded and headed inside.

"Hold on there, Agent Forester." The sheriff said. Sam stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath in before turning around.

"Yeah, sheriff?"

"Now, you wouldn't happen to be staying with a miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would you?" Sam swallowed hard.

"Yes, she offered to let us stay with her and her son." He said, and that was true. For the most part.

"Listen, I know she's a babe. And she seems like the type to be protecting. But don't you worry, ole Lonny's got it covered." He winked. Sam raised an eyebrow, (Y/N) hadn't mentioned Lonny at all.

"Ya know, it's been in the works for a while but uh... I think I'm gonna be her knight in shining armour when Jared joins the police force. Keep her company while he's at the police academy." Of course, the sheriff talking about (Y/N) like that made his blood boil, but as soon as he mentioned his son? He was irate.

"Really? Cause Jared didn't seem all that interested in being a cop." Sam said, crossing his arms.

"That kid'll come around. I've been keeping a special eye on him, for (Y/N)'s sake, and I think he'd make a good lieutenant under me some day. We'll make in a father-son dynasty. Well, when I get her to marry me that is." The sheriff chuckled. Sam narrowed his eyes and smirked.

"Heh," he chuckled darkly, "We'll see, won't we?" And with that, he went inside.

-

Sam found (Y/N) by the DJ booth, where Jared was sitting and playing music from his phone and into the speakers. It was a mix of popular songs from the 80's and 90's , kid had good taste. She was standing in front of poster boards that were covered in photos blown up from the year book. The board she was looking at was from prom night. He came up next to her and looked at the photos. She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled. She pointed toward a picture near the bottom. The shot was focused on another couple, but in the background was a familiar pair.

"I still have pictures from that night in my old photo albums. I found them a couple days ago. I was so scared to show them to Jared." She said, playing with the necklace around her throat. It was a silver J, with a turquoise bead. Which complimented the blue, flowy dress she had chosen for the evening.

"Can I ask... Why didnt you get married?" He eased into the subject.

She scoffed, "Please, everyone in this town is a bonehead. I prefer tall, smart, and handsome." She turned and smiled up at him.

"You do know the sheriff is trying to seduce you, right?" He felt his ears get hot with anger.

She rolled her eyes, "He can try all he wants. My main duty is to Jared. Making sure he's happy."

"What about you?" He asked, "Can't you be happy?" She looked at him and minute then looked at Jared, grinning from ear to ear.

She looked back at Sam, "Nothing makes me happier than being his mom." Sam smiled and held her hand in his large one.

"We usually don't stay much longer after the hunts are over..." He watched her face fall, "But... I don't think the world would end if we stayed a little longer." She smiled brightly.

"I think we might have the room." She winked.

-

Jared looked at his phone screen, scrolling through Snapchat stories. When those were done he shut off the screen. And in the black reflection he saw someone close behind him. Too close. He opened his mouth to confront whoever it was, but in a flash he saw darkness.

-

Sam glanced at the DJ booth, but did a double take. Jared wasn't there.

"Where'd Jared go?" He asked, his chest sinking. (Y/N) looked around him at saw the empty booth. Her eyes widened and she hurried towards the table, Sam close at her heels. All that was left was Jared's phone, the screen was shattered.

"Oh god no." She said under her breath, shaking her head.

"Where is he?!" She cried, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the loud music and all the talking. Sam looked around the room, looking for his brown hair.

"Jared!" Sam called, adrenaline pumping through his veins, "Jared!" He saw an open door that led out into the hallway.

"Follow me." He said and ran towards the door, (Y/N) followed, watching Sam take a machete out of his jacket.

-

Dean walked around the school, machete in hand. He could barely hear the music from the gym, but everything else was silent. He came up to the library where the door was slightly ajar. He gripped the handle to the large knife and quietly walked towards the room. He slowly pushed it open and looked inside. His eyes widened at what he saw. The sheriff was dead on one of the tables, nearly decapitated. Dean walked closer, looking around to see if the vamp was still around. He looked around the body and found a piece of paper. The handwriting was messy, but the message was clear.

Bring me (Y/N) or I kill the kid.

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This chapter has everything: the morning after, shitty cops, a jealous baby-daddy, a child in peril.

Read part 5 here!

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

Taglist:

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@somebodyto-love

@beanie-beebo

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@tloveswriting

@samros95

Class Reunion (You know the drill, I tag, I don't know why it doesn't tag people, it's a living)

@crazysquirrel504

@heavenlyholland

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@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

[erinelezabeth920]

Love in the Time Of

Anxiety. Is the first thing that comes to mind.  Exhibit A- yesterday I woke up at 10:30 am. A thing unheard of for me without being out to 2am the night before, which rarely ever happens anymore. I generally like mornings. And it was Easter. And it was sunny and beautiful as all get up outside. I’m not a devout Christian, but I grew up going to church; I am closeted very spiritual, and I like human stories, community and meditative spaces. Therefore, Easter is usually the one day a year I like to go to church. It’s just a me thing; I was lucky to grow up in a progressive church so the guilt and pentinance thing doesn’t really bother me. My family was also just as likely to go out to breakfast at the local diner on a Sunday morning as we were to go to church. I think it was really just about the intentional time. (The hilarious part being that I grew up in a small town in Upstate New York, so we would have to leave the diner by 10:30 when church got out and the weekly patrons filed in for their cup of coffee and eggs tittering “oh HELLO Dunn family! We missed you today...” My dad would have his watch timed for a perfect exit. Today, empty nesters, my parents are devout patrons at what they call the Church of Danny Wegman, a Sunday morning grocery shopping ritual at Wegmans for any upstate New Yorkers out there. According to them, they’ve even converted a few friends.)  So anyway I woke up at 10:30 and stayed in bed until 11:30. Christ has risen, but Erin definitely did not. The stone was rolled away to find me still lying in bed. Eventually I roused myself out of sheer hanger to eat leftover pizza and pour some cold brew from a can into a glass. I muttered something angry to Andy about playing video games and not making me breakfast because it was Easter so he should just KNOW that I wanted to wake up to a nice breakfast without any communication on my part. Duh. Ressurection indeed. 

I was feeling hungry and sad and weird. You know that feeling when you sleep so much your body is confused about what time/ day it is and anything you should be feeling? Plus add the quarantine and the fact it was Sunday after a break from work aka Sunday scaries and the apartment was super dirty, because I’d been avoiding cleaning all week. I resented the sun outside, high in the sky, wishing I could roll back the clock four hours and calmly and serenly watch the sunrise out my window with the meditative curl of steam from my tea under a blanket, my cat softly lying next to me, contemplating the newness of the world.  But it was almost noon, so here we are. After I ate my cold pizza and cold brew I got back into bed, waiting for Andy to be done with his video games and check on me so I could leech his energy. I laid in bed hating myself with inner monolouge like “Bitch, if you were single HOW do you think you’d be getting out of bed right now? Strong independent woman my ass” (Answer: I wouldn’t.) Credit to Andy though, he’s nothing but supportive and reliable even when I’m shooting angry looks across the apartment for no reason over my cold brew as he chats away merrily with his brother via Fortnite. 

“I’m stuck,” I said as I laid under the covers. “I need an energy push. I want to stay in bed forever.” “Either not moving or going somewhere far away,” Andy said gently, nailing my reactions to anxiety (I had stayed up late the night before Googling School Psychologist jobs in small towns across the state). He laid down with with me for a moment, and then began breathing deeply vis a vis Terry Crews about to lift something gargantuous. “OKAY, HERE WE GO!” he yelled, and ripped the covers off, pushing me off the bed, pulling me up and and shoving me toward the bathroom with a towel. Again, credit to Andy.

The shower made me feel better. I think under all the anxiety and negative self-talk, I was really just sad. Easter has never been a huge holiday, but I always liked it in a kind of personal way, just connecting with spring, new beginnings etc. I missed my family I guess or any sense of celebration. And I get this thing like, I am a mental health professional, I teach yoga, therefor I shouldn’t have hard times during this, because I am above such petty emotions. (Logically it makes no sense, but the way our brains work it makes perfect sense.) I put on a nicer ish sweater and ripped jeans. Easter Sunday best, it’s all about doing the best we can. Our friends knocked on the door, and came in to stand safely in the doorway with a boquet of flowers and a bag of fried dandelions (what? but they were delicious I’ll have you know.) “Happy Easter!” they said. My towel was still on my head. My eyes would have almost teared up if I had been alert enough to feel emotions fully. They hung out for a bit in the doorway, pet the cat, then headed out. One of my friends had said he was practicing sleeping in to prep for a night volunteer shift, but only made it until 9:45 that morning. It made me feel like a lump. As they left, we said we’d go on a walk with them later. We didn’t. Flakiness doesn’t stop during a quarantine. 

(flowes, fried dandelions and Felix) Andy made eggs after I complained he hadn’t made me breakfast (to which his response was, ‘I asked if you wanted breakfast and you grunted and went back to sleep.” Well... my anger is completey justifiable. Obviously.) We watched Lego Masters- Star Wars episode. It was really good. The sun fltered in. I wanted it to go away, or I wanted to have the energy to go out in it. I had a headache. My jaw hurt. I laid on the couch and read for hours intermittently scrolling through my phone and checking how many people had viewed my Instagram story, and then immediately hating myself for scrolling through my phone, until we finally found the motivation to do some cleaning while listening to a DnD podcast. That felt nice. Then we went on a walk still listening to the podcast. The characters were fighting a giant invisible spider. I felt tired, and noticed how far you could see into the foothills of the mountains. I’m scared, I said to Andy, that when things return to normal I’ll be sad. Not for like the deaths and economy and stuff, but this- that we can see so clearly to the mountains. What happens when that’s gone? We were going to cook, but felt lazy. We orded sushi. It was okay. We watched Return of the Jedi. During the Lego Masters episode one of the teams had built the battle of Endor and made all the Ewoks’ primitive weapons. It was cool. I liked all the trees and ferns. I wondered about Carrie Fischer in her skimpy Jabba outfit, how did she feel around all those men? I contemplated searching Pornhub later for spin offs and then felt weird about it.  We drank wine. We turned the lights off. The cat meowed at the door to explore outside. I was annoyed at him, so Andy took him out. Andy went to bed. I laid on the couch and listened to a Brene Brown podcast about anxiety, My jaw still hurt. Anxiety she said, manifests in two ways. I thought okay Brene, sometimes you annoy me, because not to be pretenious here, but I know more about psychology than you. But you have a real way of getting people to listen. So I’ll listen. The two ways, she explained, are over and under performing. Over performers tend to do a million things, check off to-do lists, always have a task, something to be doing to stop themselves from feeling (I’m looking at all you bread makers. Just kidding, baking bread is a completely wholesome way of coping with free time, and really I’m just jealous...) 

Underperformers on the other hand tend to shut down, need help from others, seem helpless from the outside, tend to fold under pressure, exuding low energy. Neither is better than the other, although society definitely favors the over performers. But in reality, both are just a way to avoid anxiety- keep it lurking in the shadows like the monster of a horror film, instead of bringing it out into the light. And we all know the suspension of an unknown movie monster is so much worse than after we’ve just seen the damn thing.  

Then she went into birth order; first borns tend to be more over-performers with last borns more under-performing, which is fine and probably pretty true and all, but I don’t totally subscribe to those things as pre-destined. But I did like finding a name to a feeling or habit. Naming is the first way to remove power. I had been drastically underperforming all day. And it’s not even my fault. It’s just anxiety- that all of us have, lingering in the peripherals, and our habitual responses. 

And honestly, that’s okay. I’d spent time with my partner. I’d seen friends and been the recipient of kindness. I’d gotten outside. I’d cleaned the apartment. We’d had dinner and watched a movie. We were fed, healthy and both have jobs. I’d even called my parents before they went to sleep to wish them happy Easter. Why can’t that just damn be enough? 

Before I went to bed, I watched an online Easter church serivce from a local church. It was awkward. The pastor filmed himself walking around a cemetary. And yet, somehow, it felt nice. I felt a tiny bit part of something. 

Check the facts honey. It is enough. It’s always enough. You’re enough.

And that’s love in the time of. 

[sophiavioletttt]

10 Things I Hate About You // @scmhenson

Sophia tucked a golden strand behind her ear as she wound her way among the tables, a breeze from the ocean rippled through her hair. Carrying three plates in her left hand and another in her right, she wore jeans and a T-shirt with an apron tied around her waist. She brought the plates to four men wearing polo shirts; the one closest to her caught her eye and smiled. Though he tried to act as though he was just a friendly guy, she knew he was watching her as she walked away. Melody had mentioned the men were big-time law students and Sophia was too tired to care, she simply wanted to get out and go out with her friends for a fun night. After retrieving a pitcher of coffee, she refilled their glasses before returning to the waitress station. She stole a glance at the view. It was late July, the temperature hovering just around perfect, and the night sky stretched to the horizon.The night sky was transferring from navy blue to black, the shine of the moon glistening at the water while the waves continue crashing at the soft sand, crickets are chirping, as some people feel the cold rush of air graze their necks. She loved working at the diner in her spare time, the view wasn’t that bad either and it was a good break. Sophia was finishing her degree, working at a school all whilst working at the diner. She was a busy girl and liked to keep it that way. She was just about finished her shift, she did one last refill of waters and sweet teas before heading to the kitchen. Danny, one of the cooks, winked at her as he always did. Two days ago he’d asked her out, but she’d told him that she didn’t want to date anyone at the restaurant. She had the feeling he would try again and hoped her instincts were wrong. 

She started another pot of sweet tea, wiping down the station.At a table in the corner, she saw two people close their menus. She hustled over and took the order, but didn’t linger at the table trying to make small talk, like Melody did. She wasn’t good at small talk, but she was efficient and polite and none of the customers seemed to mind. She’d been working at the restaurant since early March, it was fast tuition money and she didn’t mind spending most days after classes here. Sophia carried the dishes to the back before Danny decided to speak up,“Can I drive you home later?” He offered to drive her at least twice a week. “Thank you, no. I don’t live that far.” She restrains herself from rolling her eyes, they went through the same motions everyday, and everyday her answer was still no. And it was going to continue to be no. “It’s no problem,” he persisted. “I’d be glad to do it.” Sophia dropped the plates now into the dish pit before smiling faintly. “Walking’s good for me.” She handed him her ticket and Danny pinned it up on the wheel and then located one of her orders. She carried the order back to her section and dropped it off at a table. A moment later, she was leaning over the counter chin resting against her palm as she watched Sam Henson walk in. Again. It was his fifth time this week, and it was usually him pestering her about going out with him. Sophia scanned her tables, running the rhythm in her head as the diner was about to die down her shift almost over. “Sam Henson, back again. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She mused now, sarcasm oozing off her tongue.

Sam Henson was the scariest  yet coolest motherfucker at Hawkins High. To Sophia, he was quite possibly the most irritating person she’s ever met. He smoked, he cut class, he played with fire, he flashed the lunch lady.  He didn’t care about anything.  And then there was that mysterious year-long disappearance.  The rumours flew fast and thick on that one, with juvie being the most commonly accepted. And this was all just what could be easily confirmed.  The other rumours were spurious but just the fact that there were so many indicated that something must be up, right?  Jessica B. swore up and down that she’d seen him eye a live duck. Jason claimed that one time while changing for PE he'd caught a glimpse of the surgery scar from having his liver removed.  Well, probably.  It might have been for an appendix. “I know you think your cute and all, but unless you plan on ordering something I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. Not enough room for two egos, y’know?”That was six years ago, they were in college now and yet he seemed to show up to Cherry Bomb almost every week now to bug her. Sophia always excelled in school, made honour roll every year.She talked back to teachers, she tore down student council posters, she listened to angry music, she had a scathing yet witty remark for anyone who got in her way.  And of course, everyone knew all about Bobby Ridgeway’s balls. The number of yellow cards she’d received on the soccer field was legendary.  And just how many maimed men had she left in her wake?  Was she keeping some ball retrieval clinic somewhere in business all on her own?  Amanda would tell you with very little prompting about the time Sophia had punched some guy in the face and knocked out two of his teeth. 

Sophia rolled her eyes before hurrying off to one of her tables. She dropped off two checks and cleared empty plates. She kept busy, as she always did, trying to be efficient and invisible. She kept her head down and made sure the waitress station was spotless. It made the day go by faster. She didn’t flirt with the guy from the studio, and when he left he didn’t look back. The dinner rush hadn’t lasted that long, it ended about an hour ago. Sophia had already cleaned the waitress station, eyeing the clock before it struck 10, just five more minutes she repeats to herself now. Sophia tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she sits on the stool whilst eyeing Sam, wondering what exactly he was going to bug her about this time. He always managed to get under her skin, irritating her to no end but he was cute. His lips are slightly full: the kind that end in a cute little smirk at the corners. The rays of light hit the dimples in his cheeks and chin. “Did you make up your mind yet? Cause I’m off in 2, and I can just call Melody to take you order.” She coos now, gazing at him intently. Sophia was exhausted, she had spent hours the last few weeks studying for her midterm examinations. The last thing on her mind was small talk with Henson, yet here she was entertaining it anyways - she knew Danny was watching from the back like he did every time that Sam came around. The two had grown up together, occasional small talk but that was it. Her gaze falls to the clock now, as she undid her apron whilst punching out feeling Sam’ s gaze piercing into her back. She leaned over the counter now gazing at him intently. “What do you want Henson? I swear if your going to ask me out on another date I’m going to have to kill you.” She muses now, before quirking a brow. “Unless I say yes, and you finally leave me alone.” 

[aurora-borealis514]

The Sidewalk.

18 + Mature Content.

(It’s a long story, but I didn’t want to disappoint!)

CHAPTER 1

Location: My bedroom.

Time: 3:45 am 

I can’t sleep, I haven’t been able to sleep. I guess the stress has just been getting to me lately...Yeah... I know, I know you’re probably all laughing like “Stress! Pah! You’re to young to have any stress!” or my favorite line. “You’re lucky you still live at home. When I was your age I was already married with two kids by then.” Oh yeah Deborah isn’t that right? Well I’m sorry that my life isn't all put together at 21 like yours might have been, which was when 40 years ago? 

I hate people.

Especially the ones who just silently judge you. You know which ones, they are nice to your face but as soon as your back is turned they say the complete opposite; Walking around with their noses stuck straight up in the air, and driving around showing off their fancy SUVs. Must be nice to have things handed to you. For me, that wasn’t the case, towards the end at least. I came from an average family you know. Mom stayed at home, dad is a cop, a younger brother, the white picket fence and what family would be complete with out a dog. The all American family you could say.

We were definitely far from it. We had our dirty secrets too, just like any other “normal” family.

Fuck! Why can’t I sleep, god damn it! 

Looking up at the ceiling all I could think of at that moment was “What if this were to collapse in on me?” “ Maybe then it would end all of my pain and suffering.” 

The roof needed to be fixed. Dad said he was going to do that months ago...but here we are closer to winter and it’s still not done. The shingles were falling off and it leaked every time it rained. My room seemed to be the only room in the entire house that received the full impact; It was so bad last week I had to sleep downstairs on the couch. The windows were old and drafty and look like they haven't been replaced in years, the doors were just the same, creaking at the hinges. The yard was over grown and had gone to complete shit. Our house didn't always look like this, we just stopped caring.

My mother was the one who would take care of basically everything around the house without her my dad, brother and I would have been lost. She taught me everything she could. How to cook, fold laundry, how to change a tire. She was a woman that young girls would look up to. She was kind and caring, she spent a lot of time working with different organizations and she was always hosting charity events. Judith Ward even made a brief appearance.

Sigh.

Sadly, that’s all just a faded distant memory, and now my father and I were complete and utterly lost. Most day’s we would just order take out from Ruby’s Diner, we sort of became regulars there.

Tears began to bubble in my eyes blurring my vision of the ceiling. 

My mother and younger brother were murdered, along with a few others. Most would say they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but my dad wasn’t convinced.

It all happened so fast. My mother had just picked up Danny from school and they were walking home when a man in a ski mask jumped them from behind shooting my mother point blank in the back of the head. Danny’s body was never found, so deep down I know he is still alive...somewhere.

For about 4 years now my dad had been searching and it seemed like every time he would get close to a break through...more “clues” would began to surface and he would be led straight back to a dead end. Part of me believes that the man is still out there holding my brother hostage and he’s just been leaving clues behind to this day just to try and throw my dad off the trail, but he is stubborn and determined, and why would a murder hang around and continue to leave clues? I try not to think about it to often because it kills me deep down knowing someone I used to see everyday just isn’t there anymore. I keep thinking that this was all my fault and a part of me that feels guilty everyday. I should have been there with him, and maybe at least my mother would still be here... I  know fucked up way of thinking, but that’s where my mind takes me when I think about it.

Ever since the murder my father has suggested me speaking to a therapist. He claims that “medicating with Marijuana isn’t the right way to go about dealing with my stress and pain, but what does he know, Those guys are there only to take all your money and silently judge you, then they go home and talk about how crazy you are to their immediate families and significant others. To them that’s just a normal day in the office, but to me that’s the life I am stuck living every single day.

So if you ever meet a family member of your shrink. That’s why they hesitate when saying hello. They probably think you are a psychopath and could snap at any moment.

Time: 4:00 am

Alright, well no sense trying to sleep now, I might as well just pull an all nighter.

Stretching I rolled out of bed and grabbed a shower towel. Sluggishly I walked down the stairs. My dad was asleep at his computer per usual... he must have had another late night. 

Yawning I proceeded into the bathroom and closed the door. Turning on the shower I pulled my nightshirt over my head and gently tossed it onto the floor. Reaching my hand behind the curtain I made sure it was hot. 

Scalding.

That was the only good thing about old houses. The hot water is actually hot.

Stepping in I felt the heat of the water run over my skin, sending chills down my spine, and making the hair on my arms stick up straight. A draft crept through the crack under the door and my nipples grew hard. We didn’t have a shower curtain at the moment, so no matter how hot the shower got you were still cold. Why you may ask? We’ll I decided one night it was a good idea to try and sober up a friend by putting her in the shower, well epic fail on my part. Her foot got caught up on the edge of the tub and she became entangled in it which ripped the holster straight out of the wall and caved in on her. My dad was pissed and his reasoning behind not buying another one. 

“You shower with the door closed so why do you need a curtain to hide behind too.”

His logic never made sense sometimes... but that was dad. Usually his reasoning behind things made me laugh which made it impossible for him to ground me.

Closing my eyes I let the water run down my face. It was soothing, but not as soothing as the sound of rain late at night. Washing up, rinsing off and then turning off the shower I stepped out and reached for my towel also not realizing my phone was underneath it. I couldn’t react fast enough, all I could do was stand there and watch it as It fell and collided with the ground making a sharp snap.

Great. I hope I didn’t just break it.

Wrapping a towel around my hair and the other around my body I reached down for my phone. Closing my eyes I whispered to myself. Please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken. Slowly peeking out of one eye I looked down. Phew! Not broken this time. Taking a deep breath I turned to the mirror and wiped the condensation away leaving blurry streaks. My makeup didn’t seem to come all the way off in the shower so it was still smudged around my eyes making dark circles. Washing my face again in the sink with a face cloth, I then rubbed lotion all over my body. Coco butter, not only does it make your skin smooth as fuck but it smells good too! I brushed my teeth and spit the toothpaste into the sink. Leaving the bathroom I looked over at my dad who was sound asleep, but this time snoring with his face buried deep into his in his arms. 

He looks pretty peaceful. I won’t wake him yet.

Tippy toeing up the stairs, they creaked and groaned. I closed my bedroom door behind me and began franticly digging through my piles of clothes that were just thrown throughout my room. Picking up a shirt I brought it to my face and inhaled. 

Smells ok to me. Throwing on a ripped tank top, I swirled the shirt around my back and flung my arms through. Picking up a pair of jeans I just looked down at them in disgust. These are so old. They had holes, and stains that just wouldn't wash out, but they were my favorite pair and I just couldn’t get rid of them. Slinging my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my camera headed back down stairs.

Still sleeping...

Dad... Dad?

“Wha...What time is it?” he asked in a fog while rubbing his eyes.

4:30 in the morning...

“Why are you awake?” 

Well, I couldn’t sleep so I figured I would get an early start.

Yawning he stretched his arms back behind his head before looking back down at his computer. Grunting he held his head in his hands.

“Every fucking time I think I’m one step closer.” he clenched his fists and pounded hard on his desk making a pile of papers shuffle and fall to the ground.

Dad? Maybe you should get some sleep... bending down I picked up his papers and placed them neatly back onto his desk

“I don’t need sleep, I need to finish up working on this case.” he growled

Seriously though, you need to rest...it’s been 4 years and you aren’t any closer today then you were 4 years ago.

“What I need is for you to stop giving me such attitude, leave me the hell alone and let me get back to work so then maybe I can try and get some sleep.”

Alright, whatever Dad... I’ll see you later.

“Where are you going?” he asked turning to face me.

I see, he only looks at me when I’m leaving.

I don’t know, probably go down to Ruby’s for some breakfast.

“I see you have your camera too?” he smiled.

holy shit...he smiled.

Yeah, I wanted to maybe catch the sun rise. Do you want anything to eat? I can bring you something back? Maybe an extra thick milkshake 

“mmm sounds good, but no.” he replied turning back to his computer.

 Come on Dad, you know you want one. I’ll buy?

“No I’m good. Thank you, but really I need to get back to work.” he responded.

He was exhausted, his eyes were sunken in surrounded by dark circles. His hair was starting to turn gray and he just looked like absolute shit. He was supposed to be off this week. The Chief told him he needed to take time to grieve because he really hasn't since my mom died, but my dad has been sneaking around getting files from the other guys so he can continue to work, but just from home.

Ok so breakfast sandwich and a coffee instead?

“Black.” He replied with a smirk.

Sounds good old man.

Turning to leave, he called out to me once more.

“This old man could still kick your ass”

Name the place and pick a time Dad. I can take you down any day.

“That’s my girl.” he smiled.

Door slams shuts.

It was a lot cooler out then I had expected, yet again the weather man lies, but then again the sun still wasn’t even awake yet.

The air was crisp, and the leaves crunched beneath my feet as I walked along. I absolutely loved the fall. Everything is just so beautiful and the people around here really get into the Halloween spirit.

If Halloween could be an every day event, I would be happy. 

The birds were already awake and chirping away, and just as I got to the bottom of my steps a fat squirrel ran across my path nearly tripping me in the process. Sadly he was just to quick to take a picture.

One day I’ll capture you, Mr. Squirrel. I laughed out loud to myself. You might have gotten away this time, but next time you won’t be so lucky.

The squirrel stopped half way up the tree and what looked like began to mock me, before quickly scurrying up into the brush.

Fat little bastard. I grumbled.

Walking down the street all I could do was look around at how the town went to complete shit. I feel like the loss of my mother and disappearance of my brother just caused the whole town to shut down and lose its spark. My parents were very well known and liked around the area by anyone and everyone who crossed paths with them. They were always willing to help anyone and everyone who asked them, even if that means they got fucked over 85% of the time. So I couldn’t go anywhere without something stopping me to ask how my parents were doing or if they would be around that weekend to give them a hand. Especially now...it’s always. “How’s your dad? Is he ok?” 

Half the time I want to tell them to go visit him and ask for themselves, but I usually just smile and tell them he’s fine.

It got old.

Wrapping my flannel tighter around me I headed down the side walk, the only beautiful thing left in this town were the trees and the canal. 

Pulling out my camera I took a quick photo. 

SNAP, SNAP

Something this beautiful should be captured before it get’s destroyed by humanity. One horrible thing about the human race, so quick to destroy something so beautiful that life has blessed us with, and people wonder why there are global warming problems.

SNAP, SNAP

Shit, whited out. God damn flash.

My camera was old and I needed a new flash, but since I haven’t been able to find a job in this hell hole I haven’t been able to buy a new one. I did ask my dad for my birthday last year, but he just hasn't had the money. It makes me feel like complete shit to even ask.

Come on, adjust...

SNAP. SNAP.

Got it. Thank you! Kissing my camera I smiled at it.

Perfect. I smiled down at my camera pleased with the shot.

Taking in a deep breathe through my nose I exhaled out my mouth causing a cloud to appear. 

Fall is definitely here. 

My stomach grumbled.

Alright, I need to eat...

Walking further down the side walk, and then to the cross walk, I looked and crossed the street heading towards the diner. That was another cool thing. Everything was so close to our house we can just walk there within a few minutes.

My dad and I used to take walks all the time...and then at the end he would treat me with a large malt shake. He always would suggest I get the smaller size because I could never finish a large, but I wanted to be like dad. 4 years later my brother was born. At that point I was 17 and started to rebel. Mainly tattoos, which drove my mother insane, but once my brother was born it’s like I didn’t exist anymore. I mean my dad always wanted a boy, I guess you can say that’s where I get my tomboy spirit from but from then on out it was all about Danny. 

He was only 13 when he disappeared.

Chapter 2:

Location: Ruby’s Diner

 Time: 4:45 am.

SNAP, SNAP

Fucking flash!

Snap Click. chhhh chhhh.

Ugh Wherever. I’ll just fix the damn thing inside. I stuffed the camera angrily into my bag and pushed open the large double glass doors to the diner.

“Hey Harper! Long time no see, two for breakfast?” the man behind the counter asked.

No Shane, it’s just me today. My dad’s at home working. I smiled.

“Isn’t he supposed to be on vacation?” he asked confused.

Well you know my dad...

“Yeah that’s true can’t take a man away from his work.” he laughed. “Would you like your regular booth by the window?” he asked looking down at his monitor.

Yeah that would be great actually.

“Alright, well it looks like it was just cleared off, so right this way ma’am.” He smiled smoothly waving his arm towards the dining room.

You’re the best, they really should just let you run the entire place.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m one pay check away from having enough money to get the hell out of this place.” he laughed.

Yeah, I hear ya, I have a feeling I might end up dying here.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, once I’m gone my job will be free, maybe I can mention something to management?”

You would do that?! Oh thank you! 

Wrapping my arms around him I hugged him.

“No problem, I always have your back.” He laughed.

Sitting down at the table I pulled my bag to my side, and reached in. Pulling out my sketch pad I plopped it down and began to draw. That’s why I like the window booths. They were just giant windows filled with inspiration. I especially love when the older gentleman come for the early bird specials and bring their fanciest and shiniest cars. You can see them outside standing there gawking over who has the fastest car, or the best engine. Passing around cigars and chopping off the ends before lighting them and blowing big thick grey clouds of smoke up into the air. 

What a life. I always thought about what they were like at my age. It was such an easier time. They used to be able to go outside without having to worry that someone was going to get kidnapped or murdered. They came home when the street lights came on, not when they get a text asking where the hell they are. 

Looking down at the menu I couldn't decided. I know I have been here a million times, but I always look at the menu, you know just incase I decide to order something different.

 Which for me that was rare.

I always wished they would serve lunch this early, call me a psycho but I could totally go for a tuna melt right about now.

Looking up I notice the waitress. Her hair was in a twisted mess on the top of her head and her apron was stained with all sorts of different types of condiments, oil and grease. 

 Kate?! Since when do you work here?

“Well recently, Chloe’s mom was talking to my mom and well...here I am.” she sighed. “I really don’t like it.”

Well, I can tell you waitressing sucks. People are just plain rude.

“Especially the ones who tip like shit.” she laughed

Cheap bastards.

“Where’s your dad?”

He’s at home working. 

“Well it’s good to see he has at least been keeping himself busy.” 

Yeah, if that’s what you called it. I rolled my eyes at her comment.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to...” she began to say.

Don’t worry about it, I’m used to people asking me about my dad all the time.

“Anyway what can I get for you?” she asked pulling out a notebook and pen. 

I’ll have the breakfast platter and a mimosa. 

“Starting early?” she giggled

It’s never to early to drink. I laughed.

“How would you like your eggs?” she then continued

Over easy, white toast, whip cream on the pancakes, bacon fried to a perfect crisp. 

“Anything else?” 

Yeah, freshly squeezed orange juice? 

“Were a diner not a 5 star breakfast buffet.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. Oh come on the food here is definitely 5 star material.

Placing her hands on her hips. “If you think this is 5 star food then you haven't had real food.”

Well I mean, dad doesn’t cook and this is the only place that’s close enough for me to walk to.

“You still don’t have a car?” she asked cocking an eyebrow.

Well I do, it’s just in the shop. The damn truck is so rusty I need a miracle. Plus my dad’s car has been rotting in the driveway since my mom...

“That’s ok, no need to explain.” she smiled softly.

You know, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me... I don’t mind talking about certain things.

“I know, it’s just horrible. Any news on your brother?” she asked running her thumbs along the hem of her apron.

Not yet, but I know he’s out there...he has to be.

“Well I will make sure to pray for his safe return.” she smiled again.

Thanks Kate, you're the sweetest.

“Anytime.” she replied turning and heading towards the kitchen.

Looking back out the window I sighed heavily. Well it looks like I am going to miss the sun rise yet again. 

Pulling out my camera and tiny tool kit, I began to work on the flash. Alright if I just adjust it here.... and then tweak this.

SPOING! 

Damn it! I slammed my fists down on the table tightly gripping what felt like the worlds smallest screw driver. Taking a deep breath I went back to working on it.

10 minutes later.

click, click. Snap, Snap

Yes! Fixed it!

And it looks like just in time. Looking over Kate held out the tray of food and placed it on the table. 

Looks good. I smiled at her.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” she smiled.

I will, Thanks Kate. 

Nodding her head Kate turned and walked away. Slapping my hands together and rubbing them I grabbed my fork and dug in.

Everything here just tastes so good to me, I guess you could say this is the closest thing I have had to a home cooked meal in a long time. 

The pancakes were perfectly fluffy, and drizzled with maple syrup and a dollop of whip cream in the center, the bacon was perfect and crispy where it melted in my mouth every time I took a bite, and my eggs were cooked perfectly. 

Finishing up rather quickly I waved for the bill.

“How was it?” she asked removing my plate from in front of me.

It was amazing, as always.

“You really need to get out more.” she laughed. “Need any change?” 

No thanks, I’m good. You keep it. Hey, it was good seeing you. I haven’t seen you since graduation.

“Well, if you want to see me again I’m here everyday of the week.” she smiled.

Alright, sounds good. Bye Kate and thank you.

“You’re welcome.” She responded hurrying off into the kitchen.

Walking outside the sun was finally raising and everything began to flare with color. 

Perfect timing. I smiled to myself.

Time 6:30 am

18 year’s I've lived here and I’ve never really stopped to actually look at the beauty this run down town can hold. 

Looking into the water I held my hand over my eyes to shield the suns glare. I could see fish swimming around happily, and rising to the surface for a small gulp of air before dipping back down and disappearing beneath the rocks.

Life is just so beautiful if you actually open your eyes and look at it.

SNAP, SNAP.

Click.

There is just something so calming about still water. I could just stare into it for hours, even days and never get bored.

SNAP SNAP.

Beep, beep.

What the fuck, low battery? Already. Fuck this stupid camera. 

Turning it off I placed it in my bag, well that’s enough pictures of water for right now I guess. I frowned looking down as a fish swam up and grabbed a cigarette butt that floated by before quickly spitting it back out.

Now that’s just disgusting. I frowned.

I really hate people sometimes.

Reaching for a stick, and then stretching out my arm, I managed to cause a rippled effect to move the cigarette butt close enough for my to pull up into the grass.

Ok fish, you are safe for now! I smiled looking down as 5 little babies swam out from under that same rock.

Heading back towards my house, I decided to take a quick detour.

SHIT! I forgot to get my dad food and coffee. I groaned. Oh well...he probably wouldn’t eat it anyway. Pretty sure his last sandwich is still there not even touched.

Turning the corner to enter my street I looked over at the park. The once beautiful fence, now rusted and damaged from little assholes around the town. There was trash and left over food laying all over the broken cement top. Shards of glass from beer bottles were smashed and smushed into the grass. The only new thing in this place was the swings and the basketball nets. Looking over I saw two kids throwing a ball around. 

“Haha loser! That’s an E for you.” one kid mocked.

“Fuck you asshole.” the other kid replied.

Pulling out my camera I quickly capture the two as one of the boys punched the other directly in the stomach. He started crying. 

“Fuck you dude.” he said as he ran to exit the park. “I’m telling mom.” 

“Don’t tell mom! Wait Get back here!” the other hollered as he ran after him.

SNAP, SNAP.

Well, that one will definitely be a good addition to my scrap book. Laughing out loud at the picture my camera began to beep, and then shut off. Great. I put my camera in my bag and headed over to the swings. Placing my bag on the ground next to me, I began to swing.

Back and forth, higher and higher. Getting lost in a daze.

I loved playing on these when I was a kid. The swing creaked as I swung back and forth. The memories of my childhood began to flash in front of me. All the times my friends and I would sneak out and meet here just to smoke a joint and drink beers that we stole from our parents fridges.

One time we ended up getting busted by the police. He was a rookie, and my friends decided it would be funny to mess with him. We had a bag full of stink bombs, which we lit and threw at him as he walked towards us. When they started to smoke and release the smell, all of a sudden the officer grabbed his throat and began gasping for air. We all panicked and ran away, we ended up hiding across the street in the neighbors rose bushes. MISTAKE. We were covered in scratches from the thorns afterwards. Finally when back up arrived what seemed like hours later, they ended up having to give him CPR and some oxygen. Little did we know he ended up having an asthma attack.

Needless to say that was his first and last day on the job. We also never got caught.

I just can’t believe we let this town go to shit like this, this placed used to be so beautiful and full of life, now its just surrounded by crime, punk ass kids, and lazy old people who spend 90% of their time on the front porch in rocking chairs scolding the teenagers as they walked by. 

Swinging high enough, I launched off the swing and landed on my feet.

I should get home, Dad’s probably worried about me.

I paused.

Yeah right. Laughing to myself I left the park, luckily for me I lived right next door so it wasn’t far.

Time: 8:00 am

Reaching my house I noticed the mail had arrived. Wow, this is here early. Might as well bring it inside or else it will be sitting here for weeks just piling up.

Pulling out a stack of envelopes I quickly shuffled through them.

Bills, Bills, Junk mail, Junk mail, bills, bills. Great. Nothing for me. What else is new.

I always looked through the mail like I expected to receive something, even though every time I always knew none of it would ever be for me. Sighing heavily I stuffed  the mail into the side pocket of my bag and headed up the front steps. Reaching for the door knob I pushed the front door open and this time closed it gently behind me, incase my dad had decided to finally give it a rest, and get some rest.

But no, Dad was still in the same spot I left him in.

Hey Dad, I’m home. Here’s the mail. I said reaching into my bag and then placing it on the desk. I’m sorry I forgot to grab you food. 

“Great honey. How was school?” he asked.

Dad...I’m 21, I don’t go to school anymore.

“Right, right...well good to see you.” He mumbled with his eye glued to his computer screen while he rubbed his temples.

Yeah Dad, Always a pleasure. I sighed waving at him and heading up the stairs to my room.

To be continued...

[thisishawkins]

Time of the Season

Here is the fifth chapter to the ‘Dammit’ Series. I apologize for the long wait, I’ve been super busy! Thank you for your patience! Please enjoy! 

- K

Billy Hargrove x Reader

___________________

You laid your copy of War of the Worlds down in frustration. The project that Ms. Stein had assigned to you during the previous week was due after the weekend. And, of course this project was technically a “group” project. But, to your own luck, you managed to land into a group with Tommy H (who you were not entirely sure how he got into an honors literature class, as he was an absolute shit-for-brains), his buddy Danny, and Carol’s friend Taylor. As all three knew that they need not do the work because they had you, you had to tackle it all on your own, once again. You hated kids that pinned all of it on the hardworking students, you hated even more that they still snickered at your attempt to try and bring up the project out of class, and all of it made you despise Hawkins even more, if that were possible.

No to mention, the story reminded you too much of the terrible, extraterrestrial world that you were now involved with. With your mind distracted, you almost missed your footing as a green Adidas planted itself in front of your feet in the aisle-way between desks as you started to leave class. You glared back at Danny, who gave you a sleazy smirk in return. You could feel your ears burn with rage and embarrassment.

God, I need to get the hell out of here., you brooded. Though, you knew that you didn’t have it in yourself to leave just yet. There were people that needed you. Up until graduation, your future was certain - to help those that were close to you, and to keep yourself afloat.

Shaking your head, you finished your notes in a heavy-handed scribble, and sat back in your chair with a huff.

The library was practically vacant, except for the few students in the adjacent crowd of chairs, and the two librarians at their desks. It was open and quiet, just how you liked it.

With this, your thoughts meandered toward another dilemma, the party that you were going to with Nancy and Steve, and where you were meeting up with Billy. What were you going to wear? How were you going to let loose with all the shit piling onto your plate? What if things got out of control?

With the Upside Down, amounting tension between yourself and your friends, the secrets that your were keeping, and the extending list of other things, your mind felt crowded.

You had laid awake for awhile the night before thinking about it all, along with other creeping thoughts. What exactly could you call “you and Billy”? There was no denying that you and Billy had something going, for there was a tangible force that pulled the both of you together. But you couldn’t help asking yourself, what were you getting yourself into? Billy only showed you his softer, more care-free side. You wondered when his other side, the angry, dangerous blowhard, would show its rearing head.

*

Billy stepped outside into the brisk autumn air, completely disregarding that he should have been making his way to his history class. He pulled his lighter and a cigarette from his jacket pocket. In a blink of an eye, he lit it up, and leaned against the brick wall of the school. As the smoke filtered out of his mouth, he opened and closed it, making small “o’s” fly out into the weather that he so was not accustomed to. Again, he was reminded that his home was far away. The reminder only made the vacancy in his chest deepen.

He continued taking puffs of his cigarette, while casting his gaze onto the pebble that his boot-clad foot was rolling between the cement and the sole of his boot. The breeze picked up, bringing a chill to his normally burning skin. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket, balling up the lint between his pointer finger and thumb. Fallen, turned leaves scuttled past his feet as he stood there. They were nice, vivacious, and lovely, like you.

After leaving your house the previous evening, of which he and you had spent chatting and laughing while Cheers buzzed in the background, he was forced to park the Camaro near Benny’s Diner and sleep in the backseat. You did not know this, of course, because Billy was too embarrassed to mention it, and he had a feeling that you would have told him to stay at your house. No to mention, he was not the type to ask for help. He’d been booted out of the house before, so it was nothing new for him.

Billy had also discovered that the thought of staying the night with you made him feel wrong. Nervous. Fluttery. Vulnerable. He scoffed as that word crossed his mind. You made him feel more than the rage, grief, apathy, and sorrow that fueled his days and plagued his nights.

He couldn’t put his troubles, his darkness, onto you. He wouldn’t. You were too good, for Hawkins and for him. He already knew that much. Allowing you to care for him, welcome his friendship, and seemingly show more interest in him than anyone had in what seemed like forever, more than just in his hardened body, charm-laced tones, and lust-filled eyes. Along with your other worries, like the alien shit and school, he did not want to be another one of your burdens. He wanted to push you away, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to.

Which lead him to think about the party where the two of you were supposed to be each other’s “party-buddy”. He could not resist the smile that crept onto his lips. He admired your goofiness and innocence.

What was he to do?

*

“Nance, you can’t expect me to answer that.”, you told her after swallowing a bite of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Smirking, Nancy told you, “I’m not buying it. Don’t deny that there’s more to you and mullet-head than you’re telling me.”

“His name’s Billy, you know.”

“Yeah, and he’s an ass to Steve.”, Nancy replied as she took a slurp from her milk carton.

Shaking your head with a stern expression, you said, “I need to talk to Billy about that.”

“Yeah, before Coach has to drag them away from a brawl.”

The two of you sat atop the hood of the Gremlin, enjoying autumn’s presence and each other’s company. Days like this were becoming rare, as she was normally with Steve, and you were either with Jonathan or on your own.

“You know, I would bug you about how Billy is dangerous and undeserving of you and how this won’t turn out well, but I know how it feels to be pestered about taking interest in a king.”, Nancy began, a pang of sorrow running through her as she was prompted of memories of Barb, “I have no room to tell you what to do, because I obviously didn’t listen to any warnings. But, just know that Billy is a whole other animal. In fact, he is one.”

You gave her a look.

“Have you seen his hair?”

“Steve’s isn’t much better.”, you quipped, “I think the both of them spend more time on their hair than we do.” At this, the pair of you let out bubbly laughs.

“Honestly though, just please, be careful.” She punctuated the last two words carefully, emphasizing them.

Nancy’s warning sent another jolt into your brain. Billy was risky, you knew that. Though, he was more than that, underneath his bad boy facade, anger, and pain, he was kind and soft, at least to you. It added to your thoughts and doubts that had been brewing inside you since Billy left your house the night before.

“So, what’re you going to wear tonight?”, Nancy asked, bringing you out of your revery.

“Probably something simple. It’s just a high school party.”

Nancy smiled, a hint of devilishness her eyes, “Well, I’m sure whatever you throw on, Billy will enjoy.”

“Nance!” A blush rose to your cheeks, surely lighting your neck and ears.

“Don’t ‘Nance’ me. He’s an asshole, but he’s hot, I’ll give him that.”

Putting your hands to your face dramatically and dragging them down, you groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

“What? I have eyes. Just don’t say a word to Steve.”

“And give the two buffoons another reason to fight? Right, yeah.”

The both of you laughed, and continued eating your lunch.

*

“What’re your plans for tonight, honey?”, your mother inquired, as she walked into the kitchen, a soft smile perched onto her worn face.

You were finishing up cooking dinner, and planning on eating it quickly in order to give yourself more time to get ready for the party. Nancy and Steve were going to pick you up around ten, but they wanted to grab some milkshakes before driving to Carol’s.

“I’m actually going to a party.”, you told her slowly, meeting her eyes. Her eyes and face lit up.

“Oh, wonderful! Are you going with Nancy?”, she asked exuberantly, “Or Billy?” Her tone was almost teasing. You smirked.

“Yes, I’ll be going with Nance and Steve. And, uh, Billy will be there.”

“Great! Well, I’m sure that you will have fun. But, if you’re going to indulge, just please make sure that one of you is going to take care of the rest.”

“Don’t worry, Mom.”, you answered, turning off the oven and taking the lasagna out of it.

Your mom was practically shaking in excitement.

“What’re your plans for tonight, dearest mother?”, you asked, turning to watch your mother reach for a cup from a cupboard. She filled it with water from the sink.

“Well, actually...”, she began, taking a sip from her water and leaning against the counter. She swallowed it before continuing. “I’m going on a double date with Joyce and Bob.”

“Mom! That’s great! Who’s the lucky guy?”, you inquired, thrilled for your mom. You were also happy that Joyce was joining her, knowing that the woman could use a welcome distraction from the otherworldly troubles that had consumed her as of late.

“His name is Henry.”, she explained, blushing, “He writes for the newspaper. He’s very sweet.”

“Awh, Mom, I’m so happy for you! I hope that you have fun!”, you told her, enveloping her into a hug. She returned it, trying not to spill her cup of water.

You left the embrace and began to make your way out of the kitchen. However, before you met the threshold to the hallway, you turned and said, “You know, any other parent wouldn’t allow their teenage daughter to go to a wild party with her friends and a boy. What gives?”

Smiling, she told you, “I just trust you and your judgement is all.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Always, dear.”

*

Your mom had left a while ago, so the only presence in the house with you was the low thrum of an Otis Redding song filtering throughout your house from the radio in your bedroom.

Finishing up your makeup, which only consisted of mascara and tinted lip balm, you peered at your reflection in your mirror. You knew that it was bound to be quite stuffy and sweaty at the party, so you opted to have minimal makeup instead of having it run down your face halfway through the night.

You had chosen to wear a black, silk camisole and high-waisted jeans that hugged your lower half in all the right places, and paired them with your black leather jacket and black, block heeled boots. You felt nice, comfortable, and confident. Maybe tonight would not be unbearable after all.

You heard a honk of a familiar horn. With that, you swiftly turned the radio off, grabbed your keys and small pocket-wallet, and made your way to your door.

Flicking the lights off and shutting the front door, you briskly cantered toward Steve’s car. Steve flashed you a friendly smile.

You hopped inside the backseat, buckling yourself in as Steve drove away from the curb.

“Y/N, you look hot!”, Nancy told you, turning to face you from her passenger seat. You smirked.

“Thanks, Nance. Steven, has she had any-”

“She may or may not have consumed a couple of shots before we left my house.”, he told you matter-of-factly, making eye contact with you through the rearview mirror.

“So, I take it that we aren’t going to grab milkshakes?”

Before Steve could answer, Nance interjected, “Hell yes we are! Just because I’m buzzed doesn’t mean I don’t get to have my strawberry shake.”

Both you and Steve laughed. The three of you drove on, with Journey, and your banter filling the inside of the car.

*

Billy’s boots hit the wet grass underneath his bedroom window. He’d be damned if his father made him miss the party, of which he was admittedly thrilled at the chance to see you hopefully let loose. And, he could drown himself in praise from his podunk classmates and cheap booze. That was just another plus.

As he made his way towards his car, his back ached from being shoved into his dresser by his dad earlier in the evening. He knew that he’d have a bruise or two.

All was silent in the neighborhood, aside from the melodic chirping of crickets. Max was in her room in her room listening to her walkman, while Neil and Susan had already gone to bed, and his dad was definitely in a deep slumber, for he had drank several beers before ending the night.

Just in case, he started up the Camaro and pulled away from the house as quietly as he could. Once he was a block away, he turned up his stereo, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel along to the drums of the song. This was going to be one hell of night.

*

The party was already in full swing once the three of you got to Carol’s gaudy house.

“Let’s go get some punch!”, Nancy told you and Steve, raising her voice over the Van Halen song that was barreling its way through the party, along with the voices of the drunken, wild teens of Hawkins. You pushed your way through the sweaty crowd, finally reaching the kitchen.

Nancy hastily scooped some of the frothy punch into a cup, and raised it to her lips, gulping it down.

“Hey, hey, hey! Slow it down, Nance!”, you told her, putting your hand on her cup. You looked at Steve as if to say What’s with her?

Steve grabbed two beers, and handed one to you. He seemed annoyed. You would have him explain later.

“Not right now, thanks, though.”, you told Steve over all the noise. You didn’t plan on drinking much, if at all.

Shrugging, he placed the beer back, and then popped open his own. Meanwhile, Nancy, looking rather antsy, grabbed both of you and began dragging you into the hoards of people.

“Dance. Now.” She threw over her shoulders to the both of you. Corey Hart came through the speakers, and you began to move along to the music with Nancy. Sharing a smile, you began to move, and Steve and Nancy began dancing with one another, Steve twirling her around goofily. You laughed, tension leaving you as you swayed, freely dancing next to your friends.

*

Billy spotted you before you spotted him. Steve had convinced you that he would watch over the two of you, having stopped drinking after a half a can of beer, and opted for a bottle of water that he found at the bottom of Carol’s refrigerator. You trusted Steve, so you had downed a fair few beers and a few sips of Nancy’s punch, going against your previous plans of having a sober night. Steve decided that he couldn’t stomach drinking while Nancy was already so inebriated. It didn’t set right with him. He knew what she was doing.

By the time Billy made his way into the house, you were feeling airy and warm and oh-so-right. He chuckled under his breath as he made his way towards you, having left Tommy, Danny, and the other guys outside to their own devices. You were moving along to the beat of what you thought was a Duran Duran song, but were too untroubled to be bothered of its name.

As for Billy, everything was null to him besides you. As he weaved through the party-goers, he kept getting glimpses of you swaying, bobbing, and dipping along to the music, and every bit of it was just as intoxicating as the keg that sat outside with his name on it.

“I see that you started without me, ‘party-buddy’.”, said a husky voice in your ear. You grinned, and turned around and met Billy’s baby blues. Only, they were corrupted with a wild glint in them.

“Took you long enough!”, you told him, “Where’ve you been?”

He beamed, “It’s called being fashionably late, princess.”

“Well, you should’ve been here a little earlier. You’ve been missing all the fun.”

“It looks like you been having enough for the both of us.”

Billy felt eyes on him, so he irritably glanced away from your eyes and met Steve’s, who was glaring at him from the kitchen, where Nancy was grabbing another beer for herself.

Of course, you noticed this change in demeanor, and looked behind you. You rolled your eyes and made a swatting motion at Steve, telling him that you could take care of yourself.

“Billy, don’t worry about Steve. He’s just protective of his friends, that’s all.”

Billy reverted his gaze back to you, his agitation easing up a bit.

“Yeah, well, Harrington should mind his own damn business. He already has a girl.”

Confused, your expression contorted, “Wait, what? What does that have to do with-”

Realizing his slip up, Billy interrupted, “Just forget it, let’s have some fun, yeah?”

“Uh, alright.” You answered, trying to dismiss the tension radiating from Billy. Just before Billy could ask if you wanted another beer, the music transitioned to a Scorpions song that you loved, and your drunk self became ignited by its crescendo. You grabbed Billy’s hand without thinking, and exclaimed, “This is my song, Hargrove!”

You began to drag him further into the crowd, where the noise, heat, and hormones pulsed inside the house like a singular heartbeat. Instead of declining, as Billy wasn’t much of a public dancer unless he had alcohol in his system, he went along with it, not wanting to face your look of disappointment or annoyance if he did.

You began moving, and Billy joined you, both of you getting comfortably close to one another. Your sober self would have not been so inclined to do so, as you kept this side of you away from everyone. But, you succumbed to your attraction to Billy, the alcohol, and the music as you both moved along to its rhythm and your magnetism towards one another.

*

The pair of you made your way outside. You could use a breather, and Billy wanted to have a smoke.

Carol’s house was in a newer housing addition at the edge of Hawkins, and was settled at the cusp of the woodland area that surrounded town. As you and Billy stepped outside, you faced the tall trees and eerie darkness. Leaning up against the stale-mint siding of the house, Billy took out his pack of Marlboros. He lit one as he looked at you, once again admiring you. With your head directed upward, you were gazing at the stars, or what you could see of them. You closed your eyes, the wavering chill of the night feeling like a welcoming heaven to your flushed cheeks, as you took in the air into your lungs and exhaled it, raising your shoulders up and down as you breathed in the October night. A waft of tobacco interrupted you.

“Billy boy,”, you blurted, your face still facing the night sky and your eyes remaining shut, “You should really stop that habit of yours.”

He smirked, letting out another cloud of smoke, “Probably. But, it feels good.”

You turned to face him then, your mouth quirked up into a small, devious smirk, “Like the way you keep checking me out?”, you teased, stepping closer to him, “You’re not shy about it, you know.”

You were close enough to pluck the cigarette from his lips, now. Billy’s heart began to race, but his confident smirk remained.

“I wasn’t trying to be, princess.”

“Good.”, you replied, taking a finger and flicking Billy’s earring, making it sway from side to side, “Because it gives me the excuse to admire you right back.”

Catching Billy by surprise, you leaned in and pecked him on his cheek, and retreated, meeting his big orbs. A small, slightly bashful smile slowly crept its way onto Billy’s face, replacing his bewilderment, and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, while he briefly exhaled the cigarette smoke from his nostrils. Your skin became feverish underneath his gaze, your inebriated thoughts glazing over your rationality.

You couldn’t deny it, drunk or not, you wanted him. In every way.

In that instant, Billy wanted nothing more than to kiss you, but knew that it would not have been exactly right to do so while you were drunk. Any other time, he probably would not have thought about it if he were with some other broad in Hawkins, but he also would have undoubtedly been drunk if he were with anyone else.

He just couldn’t do that with you. He liked you too much. Before he had a chance to suggest taking you home, and not being buzzed or drunk himself, which was a rarity when it came to parties, a noise came from the woods. Brows pulling together in confusion and irritation of losing the moment, the both of you looked out into the trees, almost squinting.

A beat of silence passed, and you looked at Billy over your shoulder. The only sounds were the pulse of the music from the house, and the far off voices coming from the front yard. Then, you heard it once more. It was a scratching sound, then a few snaps. Like someone, or something, was chipping away at a tree.

Without thinking much of it, you began making your way towards the woods.

“Y/N!” Billy remarked, now flicking his cigarette out of his hand. A part of him wanted to keep you in the yard, but another part wanted to know what the sound was, too. Deep down, he knew that there was a chance that it probably wasn’t good, taking into consideration the Upside Down shit that you had told him about, and what he had witnessed for himself.

The drunk part of you was too curious to mind, but if you had been sober, you would have been more cautious, if not just waited to see if anything happened instead of walking toward whatever bad shit that it was bound to be. Yet, you kept marching, now entering the darkened haze of the woods, with Billy at your heels.

“Princess, we should probably-”, Billy mumbled to you before you shushed him, hearing the noises again. The sounds seemed closer to you now that you were amongst the hollow haven of trees.

Aside from the streams of pale blues and violets of the moonlight through the towering trees, it was a canvas of darkness. The streams of light were your only guide.

The sound kept getting closer as you crept along, the soles of your block-heels bumping over the fallen branches, tree roots, and lumps of leaves, making you wobble along, not to mention your buzzed swagger that accompanied it. Billy reached over and balanced you with his body, your hand taking hold of his taut forearm.

The sound changed. It sounded wet, like the voracious squelching of something being consumed.

“Y/N.”, Billy whispered, pulling you to a stop with his voice. There was an urgency to his voice, a detection of fear. If Billy was weary, then it definitely wasn't anything good. You could barely see through the patches of darkness, but your blood stopped cold, and you faced him. It was a sobering feeling.

“Don’t move too much,” he whispered lowly, “And don’t look. It’s that thing, and it has someone.”

Ignoring Billy and following your gut, you cast your gaze back to the direction of the sound, and you needn't stumble through the woods any longer. Your breath caught in your throat, Billy having stopped entirely. Fear stabbed at your lower abdomen.

Outside the nearest stream of moonlight and against the base of a tree was something moving, its front tucked away from you. Its skin reflected the moonlight, it looked slimy and grey, and it was bent over its prey. You could make out the feet of the monster’s victim, which adorned green and white Adidas. They were scarily familiar. You stared on in horror, afraid for you and Billy to move.

“Billy, that’s-”

“Danny.” He finished, his voice barely above a hushed mumble, his mouth slightly agape.

Billy yanked the both of you behind the nearest tree, almost praying that it would not attract the attention of the Demogorgon, or whatever it was that you had called the thing he ran into with the Camaro.

He stared at you, then back at the thing - he was sure that it was bigger and bonnier than the thing he had seen before. You closed your eyes, and focused on the horrid sound of it tearing Danny into bite-size chunks. Somehow, the thing hadn’t noticed you, yet, because it was too preoccupied. Though, you knew that when it had its fill, it would regain its full composure and probably be able to sniff you and Billy out, and surely have you for dessert.

Billy hadn't the slightest idea of getting away from the damn thing unless it meant sacrificing himself to allow you to get away. But what if there’s more than one? He thought. Your chances of making it were even more slim if he got turned into alien chow. He didn’t have a knife, a gun, hell even a brick to subdue it. He was stunned.

You roamed your frenzied mind for an answer to you and Billy escaping the woods alive. You tried to think of anything that could be used to delay the thing ending you both.

Think, Y/N, think. What did Jonathan tell you about them?

They seemed to always show up during the night, and in colder weather. The one that you had seen for yourself didn’t have eyes.

That’s it.

Your eyes shot open, meeting Billy’s again. His hands had been on your upper arms, because you had began to breathe heavily, and he hoped that a reminder of his presence would keep you somewhat calm.

You raised a shaky finger to your pursed lips, telling Billy to remain silent, and you slowly put your hand into his jacket, and his strong brows furrowed in uncertainty. Realizing what you might be attempting, he shook his head, telling you to not risk it.

You retracted your hand, the metal of Billy’s lighter glinting in the moonlight.

Reaching into your own jacket pocket, you pulled out your small can of pepper spray, your mom having given it to you ages ago, and just to appease her thoughts, you had kept it in your jacket. But now, it was actually going to be put to use.

“Y/N, it’s not going -” He told you in a deep whisper as you shrugged his hands off of you.

“Trust me.”, your uneven voice replied. “Help me find a branch.”, you instructed in a small whisper to Billy.

You knew that once you started, you could not go back, because it would definitely catch the Demogorgon’s attention.

Both of you bent down, grasping around for a branch or two to go along with your only plan.

After quickly finding one, you both bent upward, eyes sharing the same glint of disparity. Billy had known fear well, for he faced it every day, but this was something different. He had you to consider, too.

You were beyond terrified, but the will to live and protect overpowered your fear. You blinked back stinging tears, taking in labored breaths.

Suddenly, you noticed that the awful sound of devourment had stopped, and Billy had noticed, too.

The both of you heard a low hiss, then a gargling growl. It had sniffed you out. You were done for before you could begin your plight.

“Oh, fuck it.” You spoke aloud, your voice regaining its normal volume. You weren’t going to die hiding. You were going to go down fighting.

You hopped out from behind the tree. Despite the danger, Billy’s lip quirked into a small, proud smile, and he followed suit.

The Demogorgon had been creeping toward where the two of you were, but it could fully sense you now that you were basically in front of it, a spare few feet away.

Holding it away from you, you began rapidly dowsing your large twig with your pepper spray, and you glanced back at the thing as you practically tossed the can over to Billy, and he caught it effortlessly, and quickly drenched his branch.

The Demogoron gave a horrible growl, and its head sprouted open like a grotesque, newly bloomed lily. Except, it had rows upon rows of sharp teeth. It jumped towards you as you lit your branch with Billy’s lighter, it surprisingly taking no time in becoming makeshift torch. The torch provided more light to guide the both of you, giving a warm, golden glow. Hastily chucking the lighter to Billy, he did the same, his eyes trained on the monster.

The monster shrieked, stepping back a little.

“That’s right, you little bitch. You don’t like that, do you?”, Billy asked the monster, his voice laced with venom. It shrunk away from the fire, giving a dreadful hiss. Billy stepped in front of you, as if he was trying to hide you. From there, he could fully determine that it was Danny that the alien had attacked, and that he wasn’t going to let you see the poor kid. The sight would haunt Billy.

“I don’t think that this son of a bitch enjoys the heat like you do, Billy.”, you commented, a smile breaking out as you thought of your luck, your breaths still heavy.

You and Billy began walking backward, trying your best to not trip, for it would be your last steps if you did.

The alien creature followed you ever so slowly, but still kept its distance away from the fires.

Suddenly, Billy felt something patter onto the top of his head, then his shoulder.

“Shit.”, he spat lowly. You looked to him.

“What is it?”, you asked, but then you felt it, too.

It was starting to rain.

Panic spread through both of you like wildfire, taking your breath away as the both of you felt a couple more drops hit your shoulders. The creature hissed, as if it were laughing at you and Billy.

Billy knew of only one thing to do. With your pepper spray still in his hand, he told you, “Y/N, after I do what I’m about to do, you need to run as fast as you can.”

The creature crept towards you, like a lion to a gazelle. You jabbed your torch back at it. You looked to Billy, “I’m not leaving you.”, you told him, now casting your stubborn gaze toward him.

“I’ll be right behind you. Just on the count of three, run.”, Billy told you. His spur of the moment plan was to only buy you a little time. It didn’t insure his chance of living. He stepped forward, inching closer to the Demogorgon with his torch and canister in either sweaty, calloused palm.

“Billy-”

“One.”

You didn’t know which way to run. You only wanted Billy to be by your side as you fled, not leaving him behind you.

“Two.”

The rain was going to pick up, leaving you both stuck and defenseless. This was Billy’s only choice. He knew his mother would be proud, albeit pissed that he’d be with her earlier than they both thought.

The alien was going to pounce forward soon, its claws digging into the earth before it propelled forward to tear the two of you apart.

Your last thought was that you and Billy deserved more than this.

“Three.”

In a flash, you sprinted in the direction that your instincts told you to go, and Billy sprayed as much of the pepper spray as he could at the Demogorgon, and threw his torch at it.

Billy watched as the flames ignited, latching onto its greyish, gooey flesh. He dropped the torch and left the monster in the dust. It produced an awful, whistling wail.

You glanced behind you numerous times, but the cover of rain and darkness hindered your ability to see anything but the haze. You were still running, not sure of whether you were on the right path, and if Billy was behind you. Billy could barely see in the darkness as the rain began to pick up. He pushed himself further. In the distance, you and Billy heard a roar, and had the hopes that it was too injured to find you.

After a couple of seconds, the rain started to pelt into you, and your torch was extinguished. Before you knew it, you tripped. It was hard enough running in your boots, you were just hoping that your will to live outweighed your body’s need for flat shoes. You got your answer as you fell to the damp earth, dirt splattering onto you. You tried to pick yourself up, but a striking pain in your ankle told you to stop.

That’s when Billy finally found you, he heard your gasps of pain.

“Shit, Y/N.” He muttered, worried. He gasped your hands, pulling you up from the sodden ground, then tried to move along, his arm swinging your arm onto his shoulders. He bent down to match your height.

“Damn.”, you gasped, as you both started to move along.

“Fuck, this isn’t going to work.” Billy told you, looking behind the both of you, peering into the darkness and heavy rain to see if he could sense the creature coming after you.

“Billy, I can’t-” You began to say as Billy stopped moving the both of you, he swiftly picked you up, your legs slung over his arm. You exhaled in pain.

It was pouring, the rain pelting onto your struggling bodies. Billy began moving along, again, trying to keep a fast pace, making more of a trot than a run. You bumped along in his arms, trying to see over his shoulder to see if the Demogorgon was on your tail.

Billy could finally see a clearing, only because he could decipher bright spheres moving through the downpour, which he detected were headlights, and after a few long seconds, he reached it. He identified the area, it was still on the same road as Carol’s house, just farther down from it.

The Camaro was close. The wind picked up along with the rain. At least you were out of the woods.

“Almost there, princess.”, he told you. He was breathing in and our sharply, pushing himself to keep going.

He reached the edge of the road and clearing where a lot of the cars were parked near Carol’s house. It seemed like a majority had already bailed the party.

You sighed in relief as you caught sight of the Camaro.

As Billy set you down cautiously, and you winced as your left foot touched the ground. He briskly unlocked the passenger side door, allowing you to slide inside.

As he slid into the Camaro, he grimaced. He couldn’t help the squirming feeling that arose in him the moment his dretched clothing touched the interior of his car. It’s just water, he told himself.

After dismissing that thought, realization set into his features, and his eyes widened, water dripping from his nose and the ends of his hair. His disturbed gaze flicked over to you. You were in shock as you met his eyes. A tear mingled its way into the rain that covered you face.

“Oh God, Billy. Are you alright? Oh my God, oh my ...”, you sputtered, your lips beginning to tremble as you were overcome with both fear and relief.

Billy’s shock subsided at the sight of you breaking down, and his heart clenched. He instinctively pulled you to him, ignoring the stab of the gear shift in his abdomen and encompassing your shivering frame into his own. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His own actions surprised him. But, then again, too many things were surprising him lately.

“We’re alright. We’re alive. It’s gone.” He said into your hair, not entirely believing his own words.

Another terrifying thought hit you, “Fuck, what if made its way to Carol’s? What about Nancy and Steve?”, you pulled back from his embrace, his hands sliding down to your biceps, “We have to go back, Billy.”

“No, no we can’t. I’m sure Harrington took Wheeler home already. They are fine. Besides, that thing is injured and pissed. There’s no telling if we would make it in round two.”

Holding his sincere, stern gaze with your worried one, you nodded. Yeah, Nance and Steve probably already left. Nance was too far gone, so Steve had probably called it a night.

Billy slid his hands from you, and shifted forward to start the Camaro. It roared to life, and the headlights cast a yellow luster over the land in front of it. Reluctantly, Billy was able to pull the muscle machine out of its spot, and he drove onto the desolate road leading into town.

*

The time having to be at least two in the morning, your street was completely silent and cast in shadow when Billy pulled up to your house.

Billy huffed, the tension still present in his muscles. His lips pursed and his eyes bold, he shut his car off. Your head had been leaning against the cool, shuddering glass of the passenger window during the ride back, the shared shock and horror of what the two of you had escaped settling into the air of the Camaro’s cabin.

You opened your door without a second thought, wanting nothing more than to go to bed. Billy wanted a drink.

The pressure on your ankle was painful, but you didn’t have far to go. Billy hopped out, meeting you in front of the Camaro.

The rain was still coming down, but only as a mist. Without a word, you let him help you to the door, his arm around your waist and yours around his shoulders.

You made it to your porch, the both of you letting go of one another so you could unlock your front door.

*

As you looked at your reflection, you thought about how you could have been part of the cast of Evil Dead.

Dirt, rain, and mascara streaked down your face, and your hair was an absolute disaster. The only part of your outfit that was salvageable was your leather jacket, and one arm of it was caked in mud and specks of crumbled leaves.

Your mom had left a message over the phone saying how she was going to stay at the Byers, because Joyce wouldn’t let her drive home. Thank God for Joyce, you thought.

Meanwhile, Billy was showering in your bathroom. You had given him a large shirt and pair of sweatpants that you had worn when you had decided to paint your bedroom two years prior.

Thick steam filled the small bathroom, fogging up the shower door and the mirror above the sink. The water rushed down onto Billy’s head, caressing his skin and dripping from his eyelashes, down his nose and his fingertips while he stood underneath the welcoming scorched heat.

What in the fuck had happened? Was all of this a dream? He thought of several scenarios, such as him crashing the Camaro during the drive from California to Indiana, and how he could have just been in a medically induced coma. Yeah, maybe all of this was just a twisted dream.

But when he blinked away his spaced gaze and saw the pale yellow tiling of your shower wall, he realized that none of it was a dream. It was actually happening. Hawkins. His father. You. Fucking aliens.

At least one of those things were good.

At that, he shut the water off, the steam becoming stagnant around his form.

In the meantime, you were in your mother’s bathroom, washing the conditioner out of your tangled locks, the warmth of the water emphasizing the throbbing of your ankle. Besides that, you were feeling numbed by the lull of the heat and the sanctity of safety. Though, a nagging thought kept saying that you weren't safe as long as you were in Hawkins. You told yourself that it was better to be at home than out in the open.

You hadn’t been aware of the otherworldly circumstances that engulfed Hawkins for long, but somehow you had already been caught in their snare.

What was going to happen next? Surely people were going to notice that Danny was missing.  A search would ensue, much like the one for Will. You and Billy were the only two that knew what happened to him, and where he was. Even he was an asshole in life, no one deserved such a fate.

But, if he was found, would the police somehow link you and Billy to Danny? No one would believe either of you. Billy was the sketchy new kid, and you were the quiet outsider.

You were going to tell Hopper, you had decided that much. Together, you would lead him to where you thought Danny would still be, possibly along with the body of the Demogorgon.

Was it still alive? If it had survived, then you and Billy would have definitely been dead. So, Billy’s actions had bought you a chance for life. Your plan had at least injured the nasty being. So, where was it?

*

At a leisurely pace, you stepped within the threshold of your bedroom, the light from your bedside lamp cast a muted orange luminescence that colored your room and streamed into the hallway.

Billy laid on one side of your bed, his hands intertwined on his stomach and his head tilted up toward your ceiling. His body was rigged, knuckles almost white.

“You okay?”, you asked him, your voice sounding small.

He hadn’t heard you come in, his thoughts cast onto the horrifying image of the Demogorgon and Danny’s corpse.

Startled, he popped his head of wet curls up from your pillow. “Not really.”, was all he could manage to answer.

Before you managed to make it to your bed, Billy said, “I think I’m just going to go back to the house for tonight.”

Billy had thought it over, and he had concluded that him staying the night would only make things between you more complicated, and more intense. But, one look into your eyes gave him the answer to an unposed request.

“Please, just stay.”, you spoke, your voice almost trembling. Although you normally enjoyed your alone time, you knew that wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night if you were left alone. And it was difficult for Billy to admit it to himself, but he needed your presence, too.

Billy nodded. You were both vulnerable. You needed each other.

With that, you turned off your bedside lamp with a small click. Billy lifted the covers up for the both of you, and the two of you climbed into the soft confines of your bed.

At first, Billy didn’t know what to do, and it was the first time in a long time that he was awkward around a girl.

You sensed this, and let out a hushed chuckle.

“What?”, he asked somewhat grumpily, not happy with himself, and a little insecure that you were laughing at him.

“You’re cute, Hargrove.”, you answered with a small smile, taking Billy by surprise as you grabbed his wrist and turned your back to him, placing his arm around your waist.

Though you didn’t see it, you could feel his smirk as he pulled you into him more, his hold tightening around you.

[imaginesfordayss]

Frank castle x reader

Request:  Hey guys, would you mind doing a Frank Castle one-shot where the reader works at a diner/coffee shop?

Warning(s): cussing, mentions of death/murder

He came in everyday, like clockwork. Sometimes he’d have bruised knuckles or a black eye but he always smiled, asked about your day, and left you a big tip. He was your favorite customer, other than the old lady next door who constantly brought you photos of her cats. She was a whole other story though.

You looked at the clock above the counter, 8:56pm. It should be any minute now. You made you way back to the kitchen to put in the order. “Danny, can I get the usual for the corner booth?” The fry cook smiled knowingly.

“Comin’ right up.” Before you even made it back to the counter, the bell above the door rang, indicating a new customer, or rather, a returning one. He made his way in, slower than usual, though he threw a smile your way anyway. You poured him a fresh cup of coffee, two sugars, no creamer. You set the cup down with a smile, noticing the fresh bruises coating his jaw and neck. If you were smart, you’d probably avoid a man like this, someone who clearly got into a lot of fights, if the scars on his knuckles were anything to go by.

But curiously always won over fear and something told you that he was a person you wanted to know. It was the eyes, they were sad and yet kind. They told a story of hardship and loss. “Long day?” You questioned, a small smirk appeared on his mouth, he simply nodded. “You wanna talk about it? I’m here all night.”

“Nah, probably not the best idea.” The kitchen bell rang indicating his order was ready, you excused yourself to go grab it returning moments later to set it in front of him. He laughed, realizing he hadn’t even told you what he wanted, “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Well someone’s gotta be.” Frank stared at you for a moment, longer than he probably should have, but he couldn’t help it. You were kind to him even when he didn’t deserve it, even when he came in covered in blood, either his or some unlucky guy’s, you still smiled at him the same. He could tell it was genuine, you didn’t make awkward small talk like other people did when he was near them, you truly wanted to know what he had on his mind and it made him feel weirdly comforted. He hadn’t really felt that way in a while, not since Maria. Hell, he hadn’t felt this nervous even longer. When it was him, a gun, and a room full of deserving assholes he could take them out without hesitation but even a smile from you seemed to make him freeze on the spot.

You left him to finish his food, sitting behind the counter scrolling through your phone. Usually he’d leave his bill, tip and all on the table under a cup of half finished tea and he’d slip out unnoticed but today he walked up to you with his bill in hand. You looked up at him slightly confused before taking the bill and money and sliding it in the drawer, when you turned back around he still stood there.

You tilted your head, silently questioning him. He reached a hand up running it through his hair, you noticed him doing that a lot. The action usually came with a far off look in his eyes and a frown on his lips, as if he was seeing memories replay in front of him. Truthfully it was a sort of tick for him, something he did when he was anxious, you found it sort of cute. This time, however, his attention was focused on you.

“Can I get you anything else, maybe some pie?” You asked curiously.

“I uh, no that’s okay, I was wondering if you, can I take you to dinner?”

You chuckled, “Well we wouldn’t have to go very far then.” He relaxed cracking a smile.

“I mean, a real dinner, you know when you’re off the clock or something.”

“I would really enjoy that. How does sunday sound?” He’d have to push back some business he’d planned to take care of but you were worth it.

“That sounds just fine.”

[thescholarlystrumpet]

A Whouffaldi and Thirteen/Clara Christmas ficlet <3

I'd Know You Anywhere Rated General 

Now and then, every once in a very long while... The Doctor comes to call.

On AO3 HERE

Clara Oswald had no heartbeat.

She had no need for food or air or sleep. Although, sleep she still did - even all these centuries later. Maybe it was habit. Or maybe her racing mind just needed the rest, if only to dwell in dreams for a time.

Her waking mind could only hold so many memories at a time, struggling along as the years slipped through her grasp. She kept handwritten diaries with Ashildr, storing them in the Tardis’s accommodatingly expanding library. The present was always just a little bit hazy with the patina of the new and uncertain. But her unconscious mind could recall the past in crystal clarity when she dreamed.

Her dreams were colorful and varied, mostly things she'd seen and done when she was still alive though sometimes the stories twisted and turned, exploring paths untaken. No matter where she went, or when, her dreaming mind always found its way back to him.

His long fingers tucked into hers as they ran, breathless and giddy. His piercing gaze under that heavy brow, making the heartbeat she'd once had stutter from its rhythm. The strong burr of his voice, breath tickling her ear as he murmured instructions or other, more significant, words.

Clara wished that she'd known then to catalogue every moment and store them away like the photos on her mobile. Then perhaps she could close her eyes and choose a particular moment to live over and over again. But it was at the whim of her unconscious and, much like its owner, her mind could be capricious.

So it was that Clara went eagerly to bed between adventures - much to Ashildr’s amusement. The other immortal girl didn't understand. She'd lived too long for idle sentiment. She'd loved many times, long and well, and buried them all in the past.

But there had only ever been two such loves for Clara.

Danny, she thought of one time each day, keeping a promise once made in her dying mind.

The Doctor, she couldn't have forgotten if she tried.

It had taken some adjusting at first but Clara no longer thought about the other functions she no longer needed. Sometimes she would go months before remembering she hadn't eaten in a while.

Ashildr didn't really need food either but she liked to remind herself of different flavors every few decades. So, Clara would join her in the diner, a ‘Closed for Business’ sign slung on the door in the language of whatever planet they'd landed on. The two of them would rifle through old diaries, digging up references to favorite meals, and put together a menu lavish enough to put the Louis XIV of Naturoun 8 to shame. They'd cook and cook and cook until the air was saturated with smells from all over the galaxy.

It was in one such frenzy of culinary exploration that there came a knock at the door.

The women ignored it at first but it came again. They exchanged looks. Ashildr shrugged.

“We're closed. Come back tomorrow,” Clara shouted over one shoulder, knowing full well they'd be long gone by then.

“Sorry to bother but, ehm, I seem to be stuck here for a bit and it's really quite cold outside. Would you mind if I came in and just warmed up a bit?” A woman's voice carried over the bubbling pots and sizzling pans.

Ashildr raised an eyebrow. “Told you we should have changed the outside appearance.”

“Well when you figure out how to unstick a Chameleon circuit, we’ll get right on that.” Clara replied goodnaturedly, flipping a Vrendesian hot cake with a wide plastic spatula.

Ashildr shrugged again and moved a rattling pot off the burner.

The woman at the door knocked once more. “You know, those Vrendesian hot cakes smell a bit burnt but I would be happy to whip up some Fflusetin sweet sauce that would perfectly compliment the char."

Clara's mouth pursed. She slapped the spatula down on the counter and turned toward the door. “Insulting my cooking doesn't really seem like a wise way to gain entry…”

“Consider it constructive criticism?” The woman called back.

Ashildr gave a snort of amusement. “Oh just let her in.” She reached past Clara to turn off the burner under the hot cakes.

Clara sighed. “I was going to. My hands were just full with burning dinner apparently” she flounced across to the door and flung it open.

A slender woman with blonde hair cut to her shoulders stood outside. She was wrapped in a trench coat that was clearly too thin to keep out the chill wind. Her bright eyes met Clara’s and she inhaled sharply, something unreadable flickering over her face before it settled into a cheery smile. “Thanks ever so much. A… a friend of mine has borrowed my…. ride. I'm sure she'll be back any moment but in the meantime… anyway, thanks.”

Clara’s hand flexed on the door handle as she tentatively returned the other woman's easy smile. “We aren't open but you're welcome to wait here and have a bite. So long as you serve yourself.” That last bit was only partly a joke. Clara could be friendly enough but she really wasn't cut out for food service. A fact she'd discovered quite quickly, traveling in a pretend diner. She ought to have known how much she'd hate taking orders of any kind.

The blonde stepped over the threshold with a nod. “I meant it about that sweet sauce. I'm quite handy with a spoon.”

Clara swallowed involuntarily, suddenly overwhelmed with a powerful deja vu. To cover, she gave the woman a perfunctory tour of the kitchen area, all the while feeling like her movements were redundant.

The woman nodded sharply, taking in the whole smoky mess, the jumble of cooking implements, with an amused and intelligent eye.

Clara moved as though she was in a dream, her mouth running away with unnecessary descriptions of their culinary endeavors. She could feel the woman at her back, listening attentively. Each time she turned, she could swear the blonde had stepped just a little closer, testing the boundaries of Clara’s personal space. Clara couldn't bring herself to mind.

Ashildr watched them both as she stirred and added final seasonings, the corner of her mouth quirked upward.

Once acquainted with the kitchen, the woman set to work, dashing together a delicious smelling sauce as Clara and Ashildr dished up. The three women sat down to the table and dug in with relish.

Companionable silence gave way to pleasant small talk. The blonde woman artfully evaded personal questions but happily supplied amusing anecdotes about her missing friends (there turned out to be more than one of them). She didn't seem particularly concerned about their whereabouts or exactly when they intended to bring back her aforementioned transport. Clara and Ashildr simply took it in stride, having met more than their share of fellow travelers over the years.

Despite her easy, carefree demeanor, Clara felt a thread of something urgent - almost desperate - in the way the woman's eyes kept seeking out Clara’s, and then darting away. For just a moment, something would pass between them, the blonde’s lips parting around an unspoken word, her gaze intense and consuming. Then her expression would shift, wiping itself clean and fading back into that blandly polite smile. She'd ask one of them to pass the buttered Parsileran potatoes (which were not actually potatoes but no one could call them by their native name without a second epiglottis) and Clara would think she'd imagined it.

“By the time the Queen regent had pieced together the real story, of course, we were long gone. But there's yet another garden I suppose I'll never get to see again…” the woman laughed, a clear and lovely sound, and Ashildr joined her merriment.

Clara smiled broadly, still feeling dreamy and slow - though whether it was due to the massive food consumption or the company, she couldn't tell. “Tell me, have you been back to Earth lately?”

The blonde woman tilted her head, a gesture that immediately brought both owls and bushy eyebrows to Clara's mind. “Mm, not recently. Though we had thought to head back soon. I believe they are due to celebrate Christmas.”

“Christmas…. that's the one with the trees and the imaginary bogeyman who rides a… was it an elk?” Ashildr mused.

“Santa’s not a bogeyman. He brings children the presents they most longed for through the year,” Clara explained. “Providing they've been good, that is.”

“Well who is he to judge the behavior of children? And how does he know?” Ashildr queried with a teasing grin.

“He sees you while you're sleeping; he knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good…” Clara sang, giggling a little at the end.

“That's quite creepy. Spying on children.” Ashildr grabbed several empty dishes as she stood up.

“I have to say, it doesn't exactly disprove your bogeyman theory, does it?” The other woman addressed this to Ashildr, running one hand through her short hair. “But from all accounts he's really quite nice. Jolly, they say. Perhaps a bit snarky but a good sort.”

Ashildr shrugged, already losing interest in a very human event to which she no longer felt any connection. “Suppose they aren't mutually exclusive, jolly and creepy. I'm gonna let these soak. Less clean up later.”

Clara paid no mind as Ashildr disappeared around the kitchen partition. The tickle in her mind had grown too vast to ignore, the familiarity and slippery wrongness and utter rightness of the evening culminating here and now. She narrowed her eyes at the blonde, a whole world of questions pressing at her lips. What came out was this: “So, in all your travels, you've never, ah, met Santa? Jolly St. Nick?”

The blonde licked her lips, suddenly looking anywhere but Clara. “Oh, do you think he's really real? Not just a story? I mean, gifts to every child in the world in one night? I…” here she took a long breath, “I always figured that would be… impossible.”

It was like waking up and falling into the deepest sleep all at the same time. Like fireworks exploding in Clara's mind and liquid happiness fizzing beneath her skin. If she'd had breath to steal, it would have been stolen away. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, an anchor to keep her from floating out of reality completely.

She knew. With absolute certainty, with impeccable clarity, she knew .

It took some effort but Clara finally caught and pinned the blonde woman's galloping gaze. “I've always believed in the impossible,” she said gently.

Silence stretched between them, thick and stifling. Neither able to look away.

Then the other woman's lips trembled slightly before curving up at both corners. Her eyes went silvery with tacit relief and a million other things she'd likely never admit to feeling. Her voice, when she spoke at last, was barely a whisper.

“Yes. I could see that about you. You've a face that has seen wonders, Clara Oswald.”

Everything in Clara screamed to reach out, to fold the woman in her arms and never let go. Her knuckles were white as she continued to cling to her Formica lifeline. So close and yet so far. Always so far from where they'd once been.

They both knew it was ground that could not be retread. The centuries between them were a heavy reminder.

Together, they were simply too dangerous, a supernova burning bright and combusting so fast it would leave only the most deadly of black holes. This world they both loved so dearly, that they explored and learned from and kept trying to change for the better, could only exist without the Hybrid.

There was a whooshing noise outside and the woman broke away from Clara's gaze to look toward it. She swallowed hard and slid from the booth, announcing “Well, that's my ride. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She looked directly at Clara again as she added, “I won't forget it.”

Clara stood up and grasped the woman's hands, impulsively. Her lips parted but no words would come. She'd been waiting for this moment for so very long, dreamt it a million different ways. But now it was happening, nothing seemed to fit. At last she tilted up on her toes (of course she was still the shorter one, even now) and gently pressed her lips to the other woman's. She tasted galaxies in a span of seconds, eons of hope and loss, joy and regret. And just a hint of salt tears that could have belonged to either of them.

As Clara pulled back, the woman was smiling again, but not in her polite way. She smiled in the way that one only does when sharing a beautiful, painful secret.

“Happy Christmas, Clara.”

“Happy Christmas.” Clara hesitated a moment before adding, a little smugly, “I told you I'd know you anywhere.”

At this the woman laughed, squeezing Clara's hand and keeping it in hers as they head to the entrance. Their joined hands fell apart as the woman opened the door.

“Good night and thank you again for your hospitality,” she called toward the kitchen.

Ashildr poked her head around the partition wall. “Oh! Good night and thank you for the new recipe, Doctor!”

Clara's mouth fell open but The Doctor only winked back. Hesitating a moment longer, she tucked a lock of hair behind Clara's ear. “There's never really goodbye for us, is there?”

Without waiting for a reply, she was gone.

Clara let the door close before she could even catch a glimpse of that old blue box. Her unmoving heart already hurt too much.

Instead, she grabbed some more dishes and head to the kitchen. Setting them down, she planted her hands in her hips and cleared her throat. “So, you knew the whole time?”

Ashildr gave a brief snort of amusement. “I think you forget how long I was around before we started traveling together.”

Clara held out both hands, shaking her head. “You didn't say anything.”

“I figured if she wanted you to know, she'd have introduced herself. Besides, you figured it out once I gave you a moment together. Why do you think I stepped in here? For the ambiance?” She waved a casual hand at the stacks of dirty dishes.

Clara's face felt hot though she no longer blushed. It was the sense memory of a blush, of the ability to be embarrassed when she was not the top of the class. “Oh. Oh right.” She cleared her throat again, looking down at her feet. “Thank you for that.”

Ashildr slung an arm around her shoulders. “Happy Christmas, love. And if you really want to thank me, you can get a head start on the pots and pans. Life's still too short for pruney fingers.”

Clara laughed and hugged her companion back tightly. “I'll get right on them tomorrow. All that food made me want to take a nap.”

“You and your naps,” Ashildr grumbled gamely. “Alright. Tomorrow, dishes. Tonight… Sweet dreams.” She left the room with a meaningful backwards glance.

Clara settled into her bed a little while later and waited for her dream mind to take her away.

Clara still didn't need to sleep, but sleep she did that night and many others after it.

Sometimes she dreamt she ran from danger with a tall, owlish man whose eyebrows did the talking. Sometimes she was with a young, clumsy fellow who had nearly no eyebrows at all.

But sometimes the hand in hers was that of a slight blonde woman with a lovely smile and just a hint of sorrow in her bright, wise eyes.