#but then i found out one of the brake pads just fell out while putting the wheel back on so i fixed it :D

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playing a very dangerous game today by working on doll faceups and working on my bikes chain issues at the same time

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I don't need your closure | chapter 13

read on ao3

masterpost

July 1986

This was it. This was how Alice was going to die. Not at the hands of evil Russians miles below a shopping mall or torn to shreds by one of the multitude of monsters that plagued her little town. No, she was going to go out in the passenger seat of he mother’s Volvo, knuckles white around the handle on the door, foot punched down the invisible brake pedal. 

Fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, Alice contemplated the choices that led her to this moment. How had she gone from taking Dustin to an orthodontist appointment to fearing for her mortal wellbeing in a mostly empty strip-mall parking lot with her 15-year-old brother behind the wheel of their mother’s car? 

Alice looked over at the boy in question, his eyes wide and laser-focused on the pavement, and reminded herself why she was doing this. 

“So, I’m taking driver’s ed next year.” Dustin piped up from the passenger seat, his lisp a little more pronounced after getting his braces tightened.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin gave a grunt of affirmation. “Mr. Paulson still teaching that?”

“Uh-huh, I heard he’s brutal.” Alice nodded emphatically. That was putting it lightly. Dustin continued, “Lots of kids…they’re getting practice over the summer…just to get a head start, y’know? Mike’s and Lucas’ dads have taken them out a bunch. Mike’s even been on a real road already.”

“That’s not a bad idea, extra practice would definitely help. Paulson flunked me twice before I finally got my license. Just never really got a chance to practice after dad left and everything. Has mom taken…” She trailed off, a sudden realization dawning on her. No. Of course mom hadn’t had the time to take Dustin out to drive. Their mother barely had time to take care of herself let alone teach her anxious children to maneuver a vehicle.

Not for the first time, Alice found herself cursing her father. Don’t get her wrong, Alice was glad that her parents were divorced. Michael was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve anything her mother had to offer. She’d always known that her mother was too good for that sorry excuse of a human. Alice just wished he had found a scrap of humanity before abandoning his family, leaving them with nothing but a forwarding address and a promise to see his children at Christmas.

Alice hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when Christmas came and went without even a phone call, but Dustin…Dustin had been heartbroken. For months afterward he waited for their father to simply return. To change his mind, realize that he had made a mistake and come home to his family. The brief phone calls from Michael yielded empty promises of going for ice cream or baseball games, leaving Dustin disappointed again and again as plans fell through. 

Anger festered inside Alice, finally bubbling over one day as she sat with her little brother as he watched the sky darken out their front window, waiting for their father’s car to pull into the driveway for a belated birthday visit. Dustin’s thirteenth birthday had been three weeks prior, and the bastard still couldn’t be bothered to even give his son this small gift.

Down the hall, Alice heard her mother leave yet another message for her ex-husband. He wasn’t coming, Alice had a feeling from the beginning. Knowing this didn’t make the situation any easier. A small shake of their mother’s head when she returned to the living room was all it took for Dustin’s resolve to crumple. Running into his mother’s arms, he buried his face into her chest, shoulders heaving with silent sobs. 

Alice needed to hit something. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t going to let her father get away with hurting her brother like that. Not again. While the rest of her family was distracted, Alice smuggled her mom’s car keys out of her purse and drove the three hours to their father’s new bachelor pad, stopping only to grab a birthday card from a random drug store. 

Michael could only stare at his daughter, open-mouthed, as she shoved the card into his hands, demanding he sign it for Dustin. He did so, hastily shoving a few twenties in the envelope for good measure. Then he had the gall to ask Alice how she was doing. Ignoring his question completely, Alice simply told her father to either make a real effort to have a relationship with his son or to leave them the hell alone. 

She couldn’t remember the half-excuse he had spluttered out as she left him in the doorway, but she did remember crying the entire ride home. She remembered the look on Dustin’s face as she pressed the card into his hands and being grounded for a week for disappearing with her mother’s car for seven hours on a school night. She remembered being the one to step up in her father’s place. Taking Dustin to school and to extracurriculars, helping her mother with home repairs, picking up extra chores around the house. 

And now, she supposed, she was going to have to teach her father’s youngest how to drive.

***

“Okay, now slowly—“ Dustin slammed the brakes at the edge of the lot, jolting Alice forward in her seat. She took a calming breath before gently correcting him as he turned the wheel, taking the car down the row of shopfronts. “Try to ease into the stops, Dusty. Gently press the brake as you’re coming up to the—oh Jesus.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He exclaimed, shifting the direction of the car after coming a little too close to the curb. “This is awful, how do you do this every day without feeling like you’re going do murder someone with this death-machine?”

“You just have to…I don’t know…give it time and you kinda become one with the death-machine?” Her brother shot her a quick, bewildered glance. “Does that make sense? It gets easier with practice, I promise. Just…try to relax.”

“That’s not going to happen.” He groaned miserably, braking a little too hard again in the back corner of the lot. Fumbling around the console in a panic, he flipped on the turn signal, then the windshield wipers. “At this rate I’ll never be comfortable behind the wheel and I’ll never get my license and...and— Alice, how do I put this stupid thing in park?!”

“Calm down, you’re fine.” She reached over, moving the shifter into park and turning off the ignition. As soon as he was able to release the brake, Dustin threw himself from the Volvo. Alice rolled her eyes at his dramatics and exited the vehicle herself. “You’re not going to be amazing right away, Dustin. It’s going to take time. We’ll go out more once I get my car back and you’ll be a pro by the end of the summer. Paulson won’t know what hit him.”

Dustin didn’t look convinced. He leaned against the hood of the yellow Volvo and buried his face in his hands. Alice felt a little out of her depth; she was usually the one freaking out in every situation. Her brother was normally overly confident in nearly everything he did. He’d thrown himself into countless dangerous situations without a second thought; seeing him freak out over driving of all things was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Are you hungry? We can stop for burgers or something?” Food. If there was anything that could distract Alice from an anxiety spiral, it was a good, greasy meal. Surely that would work on her brother, too.

He shook his head glumly, looking forlornly across the parking lot. “Nah, my mouth is still sore from the orthodontist.”

Alice sighed. She didn’t like it, but she had one last idea that could bring up his mood, even just for the moment. 

“You wanna stop in RadioShack before heading home?” That got his attention. Shooting Alice a Cheshire grin, Dustin took off across the pavement toward the electronics store.

She trailed behind him, shouting, “You have twenty minutes! Any longer and you’re walking home!”

***

RadioShack had been a mistake. Sweat dripped down her neck as Alice glanced down at her watch; Dustin had been in the shop for nearly 45 minutes and she was slowly losing her mind. By the time she popped into the shop, Dustin had already been neck deep in whatever gadget he needed for his project of the week. 

Deciding she didn’t want to get roped into a one-sided conversation she couldn’t keep up with (she wasn’t feeling that generous), Alice picked up a small pack of batteries for her Walkman and left her brother muttering to himself over a display of tiny voice recorders. 

Five minutes. She’d give Dustin five more minutes and then she’d go in there and physically drag him out if she needed to. The midday sun emerged from behind a cloud, shining through the windshield and effectively blinding Alice. Make that two minutes.

“Alice?” Jumping at the sound of her name, Alice scanned the parking lot for a familiar face. The lot had become considerably more full than it was during Dustin’s impromptu driving lesson, but it didn’t take long to find the source of the voice before they flung themselves halfway through Alice’s open window, obscuring her vision with a mop of messy brown hair.

“Jesus, Robin, back up would ya?” Alice grasped her assailant by the shoulders and gently shoved her out of her personal bubble. Robin dropped to a crouch next to the car, so she was level with the open window, eyes wide and panicked.

“Thank god you’re here. Wait…why are you here? Y’know what nevermind, I’m in a crisis and I need you to talk me down.” 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Reaching for the handle of door, Alice gave the seemingly innocuous plaza a once over, searching for anything out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous. Robin rested a hand on her arm, drawing Alice’s attention back to her.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Robin took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak again, and…stopped. Alice furrowed her brow and waited for the girl to speak. After a few long moments of silence, Alice gestured impatiently for Robin to continue. 

“I’ve been invited to a party.” She finally blurted out, expectantly looking to Alice for advice. 

“Okay.”

“By a girl.”

“Okay?”

“A specific girl.”

“…okay?”

“…a specific redheaded clarinetist with incredible taste in movies.”

“Oh! Oh my god, okay! When did this happen?”

“Just now, in the Rite-Aid tampon isle.” Robin stated miserably, popping up from her position by the door to pace the pavement. “So you see my problem, now!”

“Uh no, am I missing something?” Taking her chances with the angry July sun, Alice exited the blessed cover of the car as she watched her friend frantically pace the length of the adjacent parking space. “You like Vickie. This is good news, Robin!”

“No, Alice, this is an absolute nightmare!”  Robin stopped to run both of her hands through her hair, making her bangs stick up in perfectly odd angles to add to the slightly manic aura she was giving off. “Before this moment, Vickie had been purely a hypothetical. I could daydream all I want, but now, now…this is real life. She asked me to a party. And what’s going to happen, huh? I’m going to make a fool of myself and word vomit all over her and she’ll be horrified and I’ll be arrested for…for something. I’m sure I’ll deserve it at that point.”

Alice shook her head in disbelief. What was up with everyone today? First Dustin with his driving lesson, now Robin was having a complete meltdown on her watch. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, seeing as both Robin and Dusin had dealt with their fair share of Alice’s neuroticism. The least she could do was return the favor.

“Well, we can’t let that happen, can we? You’re not cut out for prison, no offence.” Alice stepped forward, reaching up to smooth Robin’s hair back to its normal state of messiness. Once she was satisfied, Alice settled her hands on the taller girl’s shoulders. “You just need backup, a wingman. We can make it a group thing. You, me, and Vickie.”

“That’s not a group, that’s you getting drunk and awkwardly chaperoning me like some sort of messed up, regency-era courting ritual, all while I desperately try not to make a fool of myself in front of a cute girl.” Robin mumbled through pursed lips. Though Robin wasn’t wrong, Alice didn’t exactly enjoy being reduced to nothing more than a bumbling overseer. As much as she wanted to help Robin, third-wheeling all night wasn’t necessarily Alice’s idea of a good time. 

She had an idea; whether it was a good one or not was the nagging question in the back of her mind. Briefly, Alice considered the last disastrous party she’s attended in Hawkins. It had been the precursor to what was possibly the worst night of her life, if you don’t take all of the the literal horrors and death she’d experienced over the past few years into account.

The night she was sure she’d lost her best friend. For good.

It’s different now, she reasoned with herself. She and Steve were on good terms; well on their way to friendship again. And though she didn’t yet have the full story of what had happened that night…or what had led to it, Alice could at least hope it wouldn’t happen again. There was only one way to find out, she supposed.

“I can, uh, askstevetogo.” Alice mumbled, half-heartedly tossing out the thought before she could stop herself. It wasn’t as if she was looking for an excuse to see him or anything, it just made sense. They are all friends. Friends go to parties together. As friends. “Then it’ll be a real group. Make things less weird, y’know?”

Robin’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she shimmied out of Alice’s grip. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just say something like that and not elaborate. Did you and Steve make up?”

“Kinda? We’re…talking. It’s not a big deal.”  Robin seemed unimpressed, to say the least. Alice knew the girl wasn’t going to let her get away with that bullshit answer, and with a sigh, launched into an abridged version of what had happened with Sudsy. How she and Steve had ended up babysitting together, how Alice had emotionally blown up and confronted him, and then the subsequent, tentative makeup.

Obviously, making up with Steve was, in fact, a big deal to Alice. The past week had been the happiest she’d felt in months, and as much as she hated to admit it, that had a lot to do with Steve Harrington. True to his word, Steve hadn’t pressured Alice into anything since their conversation the previous weekend. To no one’s surprise, especially Alice’s, it took less than a day before she found herself eager to see him again. 

So, after harassing Dustin for Steve’s new phone number, she called him. He sounded pleased, but genuinely surprised to hear from her so soon. The palpable fondness in his voice combined with the itch to be within arms reach of him again, was how she found herself inviting Steve to take a walk with her. 

For safety purposes, of course. 

You see, Alice had a new client. A big, goofy Great Dane, who needed to be walked while her human worked overnights. Normally Alice wouldn’t think twice before declining the job; she and the dark didn’t really get along after everything she had been through. But this particular client had offered double her regular fee just to feed the dog dinner and take her on a quick walk before bed.

Alice couldn’t refuse the easy money, but that still left the problem of having to be outside. In the dark. Alone. She sucked it up the first night, walked the half-mile to the clients house, took the pup around the block while her nerves spiked, and finally ended up sprinting home after making sure the dog was safely in bed, the plan to call Steve already on her mind.  

As she predicted, he eagerly agreed to accompany her the next night. And then the next, and the next…until they fell into an easy, somewhat familiar, routine. Steve would pick her up at 8:30 on the dot, they’d take care of the dog, and then just sit and talk until Steve had to get himself to bed for work the next day. Sometimes Dustin would join them, if he wasn’t off galavanting with his Dungeons and Dragons club or messing with machines in his bedroom. But, mostly, it was just the two of them.

He followed her lead at every turn. Never pushing for anything more than what Alice was comfortable with giving, keeping a respectable distance. Alice, on the other hand, was having an incredibly hard time sticking to her own boundaries. Despite her reservations, Alice physically couldn’t keep herself away from Steve. It was like that night babysitting Holly had broke open a dam in Alice’s brain. 

Steve Harrington loved her. 

Just the thought alone was hard for Alice to wrap her mind around. Truthfully, she was scared. Hell, Alice was terrified. And still justifiably angry on top of it all. Months of convincing herself to turn her hurt into hate couldn’t be washed away so easily. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that Steve was truly repentant and wanted to make things right with her, Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that although everything between them was going well now didn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t go to shit just as quickly. 

But in spite of it all, it was just so easy to fall back into an familiar rapor with her former best friend. It was a more than little unnerving how effortlessly Steve had fit back into her life and, even moreso, how badly she wanted him to stay there.

***

“So, yeah. We’re talking. That’s it.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Steve’s in love with you.”

“Apparently.”

“You’re in love with Steve?”

“I…yeah. I guess am.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Shit, Alice.”

Alice couldn’t agree more; shit.

***

Alice’s mother dropped her off at Robin’s house a full two hours early, at the younger girl’s request. Well…it sounded more like a panicked demand over the phone than a polite request, but Alice was willing to overlook that tiny detail. Either way, she was grateful for an excuse after Claudia had offered to drive the girls to the party itself. As much as she loved and appreciated her mom, that simply wouldn’t do.

“No, seriously, it’s okay, Mom!” Alice attempted to dissuade her mother. “It’s only a ten minute walk from Robin’s. You don’t want to drive all the way back out here in just to drive us less than a mile up the road.”

Reluctantly, Claudia agreed that the girls could take care of themselves, and left Alice and her overnight bag at Robin’s. She waited until her daughter was safely inside before waving and backing out of the driveway. 

In the time it took for Alice to arrive, Robin’s bedroom had descended into absolute chaos. Ninety percent of the time they had before the party was spent digging through the chaos that was Robin’s wardrobe, piecing together the perfectly casual, but not too casual because “then what if Vickie thinks I’m a slob! Don’t give me that look, you’re just as much a mess as I am,” outfit.

The other ten percent was taken up by relentless, teasing back-and-forth from both girls. It had started off with Alice clearly having the upperhand; gently mocking her friend as she tried on article after article of clothing. Alice was quite enjoying herself. That is, until it came time to talk to Steve about the party.

 In the end, it had been Robin who had called to recruit Steve as a secondary wingman and a ride home. It was stupid. The phone had been in Alice’s hand, she had dialed his number. His new number. The one for his fancy, independent, adult apartment. The first ring in her ear sent her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding, resulting in the phone being flung into a bewildered Robin’s hands.

Cooly recovering from Alice’s sudden panic, Robin had managed to convince Steve to meet them at the party. Alice hovered over her shoulder, ears straining to hear the other side of the conversation and chewing her pinky nail down to the nub. 

What was wrong with her? Alice chastised herself. She’d spoken to Steve on the phone quite literally hundreds of times. At least thrice that week alone. 

Inviting him to a party, though, somehow felt too much like she was back in middle school asking Matthew Miller to the Snowball, only to spend the night sulking on the bleachers after being stood up.

So, in true middle school fashion, it only made sense that she make her friend ask Steve, instead. Not that she thought Steve would stand her up. Because it wasn’t like this was a date or anything. This was merely a group outing with a couple of pals.

She’d never hear the end of it from Robin. 

***

The party itself was a docile thing, despite being packed with a couple dozen band nerds. The music was decent and the drinks were surprisingly good for a questionable concoction thrown together by a teenager. 

Robin zeroed in on Vickie the second they stepped through the door. When the redhead greeted both girls with a hug, Alice was impressed by how quickly Robin recovered from the close contact. 

As the night went on, much to Alice’s delight, it seemed that Robin’s initial apprehensions about the party were proving to be completely unnecessary. And though she was having a good time and was always glad to spend time with Robin, it really seemed like Alice’s presence was barely needed. 

It may have been the effervescent lighting on the dance floor or maybe the faint buzz of alcohol in her system, but Alice could swear Robin practically radiating confidence as she danced with the girls she had been pining over for months. Ever the dutiful friend, Alice swayed to the music with them, overthinking about what the correct amount of respectable distance would be. Not so close to the couple that she was invading their bubble, but not too far away to be unable to participate in conversation or miss any distress signals from Robin. 

Luckily for her, after some subtle comments from Robin, followed by a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs, Alice finally took the hint and excused herself. She counted this as a victory in staying firmly in wingman territory. There would be no outdated chaperoning tonight. 

Not quite sure what to do with herself after leaving the one person in the house she actually felt comfortable spending time with, Alice wandered through the festivities, stopping to chit chat with old classmates every so often. She certainly wasn’t looking for Steve. Not really. Was she disappointed he wasn’t there yet? Maybe, but mostly Alice just felt overwhelmed without someone to anchor her. 

In the end she parked herself on a couch in the den, only returning to the party proper to replenish her drink. It was quieter in there, and much less crowded than the main living areas. There were a few people playing scrabble at a card table in the middle of the room as movie played softly in the corner, a couple boys sprawled out on a rug in front of the the television, watching intently. This was definitely more her speed tonight. 

Unfortunately, despite being a refuge from the chaos, this was also how Alice found herself three and a half drinks deep, getting her ear talked off by goddamn Matthew Miller. Yes, that Matthew Miller. She had cursed herself by thinking of him earlier. It seemed Matthew had conveniently forgotten his eighth grade indiscretions. Sadly for him, Alice was excellent at holding a grudge, even through the pleasant, fuzzy haze of drunkenness. 

“Anyway, you’d be surprised by the kind of stuff you could get away with in college. No one cares, Henderson, you could do whatever you want.” Matthew had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers lingering dangerously close to Alice’s shoulder. She clenched her plastic cup in her hand and stared straight ahead, willing someone, anyone, to save her from this conversation. Where the hell was Robin when she needed her? “And the girls, man. They’re nothing like high school chicks; everyone is just so open minded, y’know?”

“Mmhm.”

“Most of the them are just there looking for husbands, anyway, so it’s easier. That’s what Trevor says, anyway. You remember Trevor, right? He was french horn in high school, but we were roommates last semester, too. Anyway, it’s true though. These girls are just looking for someone to settle down and have babies with.”

Okay, that was quite enough of that. Alice threw the rest of her drink back, grimaced and finally turned toward Matthew with a withering scowl, preparing to lay into his insufferable, sexist ideas about women as a whole.

“First of all, you misogynistic prick, that’s—oh! ” Alice’s speech was slightly slurred, but not enough to hide the venom behind her words. Words that were all too suddenly cut off by the aforementioned prick making a bee-line for Alice’s lips, his eyes closed and mouth horrifyingly open. She threw herself backward into the arm of the couch at the last second, simultaneously pushing Matthew back into the cushions opposite her. “Oh, no thank you!”

The boy was clearly taken aback, or at the very least, not used to being turned down. “Are you sure? I thought we were having a moment!”

“What part of... of that ‘conversation’” Alice emphasized the word with some sloppy air quotes. “Made you think we were having a moment?! I might be drunk, but I’m not, like, random, regrettable hookup drunk, Trevor.”

“Matthew.” The boy corrected her with a glare. With practiced ease, he shifted his face into cool disinterest before plucking Alice’s empty cup from her hand. “I’m going to get us a refill. Maybe you’ll be a little nicer when I get back.”

Frowning deeply at his retreating back, Alice knew this was her chance to make a hasty departure. She just needed to get up. Which was easy, so easy. Or at least it would have been two drinks ago. The liquor had settled into her limbs, weighing her down like sandbags. It was fine, though. She just needed to flag down Robin to pull her out of the quicksand-like cushions that were sucking her deeper and deeper into the couch with every passing minute.

But where was Robin? Alice squinted her eyes, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd through the open doorway, but failed to spot either of the girls she’d been with earlier. This was also fine, surely someone had to know where they had disappeared off to. Triumph shot through Alice as she successfully caught the eye of a friendly face. She beaconed the familiar, fluffy-haired girl over.

“Kate. Kate listen, where is Robin?” 

“Hey Alice, you good?” Kate smiled down at her, amusement glinting in her eyes, before helpfully taking a quick look around the room. “I don’t really know, I’m sorry. I think she and Vickie were in the kitchen earlier, do you want me to go check?”

“You’re an angel, Kate, truly. A tumpeteer from the heavens.” The words tumbled from Alice’s mouth without filter. The lack of control should have mortified Alice, but she was well past the point of actually caring. Kate just chuckled, patted Alice on the head like a puppy, and made for the kitchen. 

No sooner did Alice’s ally disappear through one doorway, did her adversary emerge through another, a fresh plastic cup clutched in each hand. 

Shit. The time for games was over. Gathering every speck of willpower she possessed, Alice pushed herself up from the cavernous couch. Bad idea. Awful idea. She clutched the arm of the couch as the room moved around her, swaying and spinning like a carnival ride. Her stomach churned slightly. Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke.

A hand appeared on her arm, steadying her. Instinctively, she swatted it away. Unfortunately, the sudden movement tipped Alice off balance just enough to send her falling back into the accursed couch. She glared up at her assailant, ready to lay into Matthew about touching her without consent. Oh. Not Matthew, then.

Steve, her knight in shining polo, loomed over her with bemusement etched into his features. A flash of annoyance coursed through her; where had he been an hour ago, before her night had started to go downhill? However, the feeling was quickly overshadowed by dread when she caught Matthew’s garish, caution-sign yellow t-shirt from the corner of her eye.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m late, but you’re not going to believe the breakthrough I’ve had with Gladys—“

“Sit down,” she whispered to Steve, cutting him off as Matthew drew ever closer. Without a second thought, Steve slid into the seat next to Alice, side-eyeing the approaching figure. Alice clutched his arm, pulling him close like a human shield, as if she could camouflage herself with Steve’s considerably larger stature. “Pretend you’re talking to me.”

“Pretend to—we were talking, Alice. Until you rudely interrupted me.” Alice laughed loudly, tossing her head in the direction of where Matthew awkwardly hovered nearby, his shins bumping on the corner of the crowded coffee table. Steve snuck a peek, taking in the boy fumbling with the red cups in his hands, and nodded to signify he understood the situation. 

“Ah, I see. Okay, what angle are we going with here? The usual?” 

“Nuh uh, our moms work together. Dead grandma isn’t going to work.”

“What about my dead grandma?”

“Maybe. Can you even pull that off?”

“You underestimate me, Henderson.” Alice bit back a smirk as Steve took the challenge to heart. Without any sort of preamble he turned and pressed his forehead into her shoulder. Sliding his hand into hers, he gripped her fingers tightly and put in his best effort into looking the part of a grief-stricken man.

Alice froze.

For the first time, Alice was thankful for the alcohol that dulled her senses. Her heart fluttered as she tried not to think about the way his breath felt on her neck as he buried his face into her shoulder. Or the way the hard plane of his torso pressed into her own, or how it nearly took her breath away. 

Alice took a second to compose herself. You’re a goddamn professional, she scolded herself. This was a tried and true act, one that she and Steve had played out at least half a dozen times before to get out many an awkward encounter, though it was usually her amping up the dramatics. The proximity meant nothing, and Alice had better remember that. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d never been that close before. Closer, she recalled, heat pooling in her stomach. 

It had just been so long. 

But she could think about that later. Instead of lingering on feeling the heat of his skin on her body, she focused on the performance at hand. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Matthew finally piped up after what felt like an eternity of fake-comforting Steve as he fake-cried into the light cardigan she’d thrown over her tank top earlier in the evening. Alice glowered at him incredulously as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down Steves back. He was good, maybe too good. A wicked thought crossed her mind. Lets see how well he could do with this one.

“Shh, his guinea pig just died.” She hissed. Steve stiffened a bit, thrown off by Alice’s plot twist. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping cool. “Show a little respect, Miller.”

“Damn, Harrington, I’m sorry man. Here,” Matthew deposited both cups of god-knows-what concoction, on the table before them.  “Have a drink for…for—“

“Henrietta.” Alice supplied, helpfully. 

“For Henrietta.” Matthew nodded and clapped Steve on the shoulder before hurrying away as quickly as his feet could take him. Once he was safely out of sight, Alice couldn’t hold back the peals of laughter. Steve took the moment to collect himself, smoothing back his hair and wiping the non-existent tears from his face. 

“Guinea pig?” Steve spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

She shrugged helplessly. “You were so convincing, though, Steve! Why didn’t you ever try out for the school plays? We never had enough boys, they would have eaten you up.”

“Just another one of my many unrealized talents. Come on, lets go find the lovebirds. They’re around here somewhere.” He chuckled, rising from his seat. Offering a hand to Alice, he pulled her up with minimal effort. She felt steady enough on her feet to follow him through the house, but not before swiping her drink from the coffee table. 

 ***

“And then! After giving me all this bullshit about how these college girls are all so eager to throw themselves at him, he decides its a perfect time to go for it. Mouth. Wide. Open.”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding.” Robin and Vickie sat shoulder-to-shoulder on one of the few lounge chairs scattered across the backyard, twin expressions of disgust etched across their faces. Alice was sprawled across the foot of a shared lounge chair herself. Steve had somehow managed to fold himself onto a tight ball of limbs on the other half, leaving plenty of room for Alice to gesticulate wildly as she recounted every gory detail of her run-in with Matthew.

“I swear he like, unhinged his jaw or something.” Alice cackled, shifting her body to lean more of her weight onto Steve’s bent legs. At this point, she was sure he was the only thing keeping her upright. To his credit, he merely shifted to accommodate her, untangling himself slightly so that he could sprawl his legs out on either side of her. Alice took the opportunity to claim space of her own, scooting back to nestle her shoulder against his chest, while keeping her body angled to carry on her conversation. 

Sober Alice would have never, not in a million years. But drunk Alice was an entirely different story. She reveled in the easy way Steve slipped an arm around her waist, hooking his thumb through the belt loop on her hip. The action didn’t go unnoticed to the girl across from her, either. Robin caught Alice’s eye and gave a wink. Alice tried, and failed, to hide a grin. 

“Anyway, then Steve finally showed up, but Henrietta died and he started crying, which we all know is the ultimate boy repellent, so s’all good now.” 

“Wait, who’s Henrietta?” Vickie piped up, looking concerned by the mention of someone dying. 

“Steve’s guinea pig.” Alice yawned behind her hand, before resting her head on her folded knees. “But don’t worry, I’m not even a hundred percent sure she even existed.”

“She definitely never existed, you nerd.” Steve’s chest rumbled as he spoke, chuckling softly. 

The conversation drifted to movies and Alice’s altered state-of-mind had a hard time keeping up with titles and actors. Despite her lack of ability to make a mental contribution, Alice was overjoyed to see Robin so open and totally herself around Vickie. If anyone deserved to be in a happy relationship, it was Robin. Alice knew she couldn’t come close to understanding the nuances of being in Robin’s shoes, but she certainly knew the sting of unrequited love. 

Though, she supposed, her’s wasn’t really unrequited, now was it? Did it still count as unrequited if the feelings had actually been requited all along, but the other party had chosen to be an ass about them for the better part of a year instead of talking about said feelings? Either way, Alice felt a strong kinship with Robin in the whole romance department. 

Head swimming, Alice decided that last drink had been a bad idea. To her credit, she’d only drank half of it before a moment of clarity had her switching to bottled water, but it was enough to push her just a bit too far over her usual limit. Enough to completely disregard any and all inhibitions, but also, as it turned out, enough to make her very, very sleepy. 

The fourth time Alice’s head slipped from it’s perch, Steve let out a heavy sigh, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tighter into himself. Alice gave up trying to keep herself up and settled fully against his chest, letting her eyes drift shut. 

Everything about this was against Alice’s better judgement, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of how right it felt. The buttons of his shirt digging into her cheek, how his breath ruffled her hair as he dipped his head to whisper in her ear.

“Maybe it’s time to get you home, huh?” Alice’s eyes snapped open and forced herself upright. Absolutely not; there was no way she was about to cut Robin’s night short because she got a little too drunk and couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

“Nope, can’t go home.” She mumbled sleepily, pulling the front of her cardigan to wrap around her body a bit tighter to ward off the chilly night air.

“…why not?”

“Two reasons Stephen,” Alice held up a lazy finger, ticking off the first. “Number one; look at Robin.”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told, fixing his gaze on Robin, who was now visibly uncomfortable with the sudden attention Alice brought to her.

“When was the last time you saw Robin have a good time at a party?”

“I have tons of fun at parties all the time, Alice!” Robin protested from her chair. 

“Exactly. I’m not going to make her leave a nice time just so she could lay in bed listening to me snore all night.”

“I can take Robin home later.” Vickie nervously interjected, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “If that’s what you want, I mean. No pressure, it’s just…I’m having a nice time too.”

Robin visibly lit up at the prospect of actual Alone Time with her long-term crush. She nodded enthusiastically, a blush creeping up her neck. Alice flashed her what she hoped was a subtle thumbs up, which in hindsight was maybe a bit too subtle even for its intended recipient. Embarrassed, she tucked her hand back into her sweater.

“Oh, perfect. That problem was solved…quickly. Anyway, third of—“

“Second?”

“Second of all…I can’t go home drunk. My mom will cry and it’ll lead Dustin down a…a dark path of drugs and alcohol. You guys know the kid, there very impressionable at that age.” 

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“You don’t know that. I just…I don’t like them seeing me like this. So I can…I’ll sleep it off on this lawn chair, I guess. If you don’t mind scooting…” She leaned forward as far as she could, giving Steve a chance to get up. He swung his long legs over the side of the lounge and hesitated, a brief flash of inner conflict crossed his face as he considered something.

“Or…”

“Or?”

“Or I can take you back to my place and you can sober up there.”

Alice clapped a hand over her speeding heart, face heating to what was sure sure to be a low-grade fever. What was this kid playing at? 

“Mr. Harrington, I think we’ve established I’m not that kind of girl!” She managed to choke out after her pulse calmed. 

“Jesus Christ, Alice, not like that!” He spluttered, taking a few steps back as though to put some distance between himself and Alice. Robin dissolved into a fit of mad laughter, completely ignoring the icy glare Steve shot in her direction. He placed his hands on his hips, looking absolutely exasperated by both girls. “I just figured my couch would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than a hard plastic chair, but if that’s what you’d prefer then by all means—“

“No, no! That’s…that’s actually super nice of you, Steve.” Alice tried to recover, feeling a small pang of guilt through the alcohol. She had misunderstood, of course Steve was just trying to help. That’s just what they did; they took care of each other. 

“Listen, don’t feel obligated or anything, it was just a suggestion. I can just as easily let you sleep right here, or take you to Robin’s, or to back to your house to corrupt Dustin. Just wanted you to have options, is all.” Steve rambled as Alice leant over to fish her purse from underneath the lounge. Stumbling clumsily to her feet, she looped her arm around Steve’s to regain some balance.

“Do you have snacks?”

“Ok, I’ve changed my mind. You’re not allowed in my home.” 

“Can we stop somewhere to get snacks?”

“Will you behave yourself if I say yes?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

[cloud9in]

The Half of It - 2 (Poppy x MC)

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

HIGHLY recommend you read/re-read part 1

No warnings this chapter

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 2: How to write a love letter 101

 “In love, one always starts by deceiving oneself...and ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls romance.”

- Oscar Wilde

I was tasked with what was probably the hardest piece of writing I’ve done in all of my years of highschool, and I wrote eight different versions of the analysis on David vs Goliath my freshman year. That’s besides the point, it wasn’t like any normal research essay. No. For some reason I found that my one and only letter to Poppy would have to be the best thing I ever wrote in the entirety of the universe. Too bad I had to make it sound like it was written by Carter, that big stupid jock. You can guess how severely depressed I became after reading what he had initially written…

 “Dear Poppy, I think you’re really beautiful. Even if you were ugly, I’d want to know you, because you are smart and nice, too. It’s hard to find all those things in one girl. But even if you were only two of those things, I’d be into it. But you’re, like, all three, just to be clear.”

 Bea reads off the paper, turning her head with cringe and confusion at the confident jock sitting next to her. Carter smiles, “She’s all three, like you know all three backs of football. The running back, the fullback-”

 “Thanks for clarifying...:”

 Carter stares awkwardly, waiting for her to continue on. And Bea does, with a big ass sigh.

“...About me. Some people think I’m the cutest one in my family. Those people being my grandma...who’s dead now...Never mind about my dead grandma. All I’m saying is that I like fries. I like dipping them in my milkshake. Is that weird? It’s actually really tasty. Would you like to try that with me sometime?

 CJ, school quarterback.”

 Bea takes a good five minutes to compose herself. Yeah this was definitely gonna be a long week. She lowers the paper slightly and turns to Carter, a puzzled look in her eyes. “So what you’re trying to say is-”

 “I’m in love with her.”

 That confession definitely would have sent her sprawling a few feet back if she hadn’t been sitting. Love? What was love? And why does she despise it now that Carter has mentioned it. 

“...Have you ever spoken to her?”

 “Well...no, I’m not good with words. Besides, would I be here with you if I did talk to her?”

 Bea rolls her eyes and huffs exhaustingly. “Carter, you're not in love. You’re just stubborn.”

 “No I’m not! It’s love, I know it’s love. Love feels different, it doesn’t feel...real. It almost feels impossible. But we indulge in it because of the thrill, the adrenaline of chasing someone mindlessly...and wanting to be present in everything they do. There’s that ‘what if?’, the question that could make or break that love. Even if the ending isn’t what you had hoped for, at least you know how it felt to feel so much joy, so much want.”

 Carter stares up at the ceiling in thought, his eyes seem to be unfocused, staring at nothing and everything. Bea gazes over at him in part shock and part admiration, a smile painting her face. “...Wow.”

 “...Hm, yeah. I heard it in a dating app commercial once.” 

 Bea gasps and smacks Carter repeatedly with the letter in her hand, clearly disappointed. 

 “Wha- Ow!”

 “And here I was thinking you were being original.”

 Bea eventually sits back in her seat, her shoulders slumping as she reads the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it. That was the problem though, it didn’t make sense, well maybe the fries part did, but the blonde had a lot of work to do. Carter watches her silently until he can’t hold back the lingering question in his head. “...Haven’t you ever felt it? That screwy feeling that love gives you? Poppy makes me feel screwy.”

 Bea continues to read, her eyes glued onto the words that are slightly falling out of the printed lines of the notebook paper. But her mind is fully elsewhere, she heard his question loud and clear. The only thing she could muster was an annoyed “no” in efforts to not become vulnerable.

 He intertwined his hands together, leaning back on the bench. “...Oh I get it, you’ve never been in love have you?”

 Bea’s legs were already one step ahead of her mind as they sprung her out of the seat. She grabs her bag and swats the papers in Carter’s direction, a scoff leaving her lips. “You want a love letter? I’ll give you a love letter!”

 “Yeah but will it be something that makes her fall in love with me and not walk away like you’re doing right now-” Carter’s voice rings out hurriedly yet Bea can’t hear anything except the pounding of her heart getting louder as she stalks out of the church. Love, love, love, what even is it? Will I ever feel it? There is nobody who could make me feel-

 The blonde was cut abruptly out of her thoughts as she crashed into someone, who was most likely on their respective part of the sidewalk. All of the materials in her arms fell to the concrete and Bea rushed to pick them up, “I’m sorry I-”

A familiar blonde set of locks and porcelain skin came into view and she immediately stopped and looked up. Poppy’s eyes were already boring into hers, a look of slight concern, and maybe annoyance? on her face. 

 “...I’m-I’m Bea Hughes…” She could only stutter, all those moments that she pretended to talk to Poppy in her room were definitely not paying off. 

 But maybe it did pay off because a small smile, masked with sparkly pink lip gloss started to form. Poppy bit her lip as her eyes crinkled with amusement, “...Yeah I know. You’ve only been playing my dad’s services on Sunday for, like, four years. He does favour you...even if you are a heathen.” Poppy peers over at the church that Bea had just come out of and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. She picks up a stray book from the ground and grins with an impressed look. “Remains of The Day...Loved it. Mr. Stevens is quite the character.” Okay, so Poppy has great taste in literature, that’s another thing to add to the list that Bea totally doesn’t have stored in the notes app of her phone. Listen, she has to write a love letter to Poppy Min Sinclair, so every piece of information is vital. 

 Poppy hands the book to Bea, their eyes never leaving each other while standing up. Say something Bea. Anything. It’s almost like the strawberry blonde was waiting, hoping, for her to speak . 

 But she said nothing. No, all the insecure blonde could do is stare into Poppy’s eyes, almost as if she wasn’t afraid to turn to stone. 

 The sound of car tires scraping against the pavement caused Poppy to break eye contact before smiling one last time at Bea. “This is me.” Bea watched the shorter girl stroll past her so casually, the complete opposite of what she was feeling in the moment. She didn’t speak until Poppy closed the car door and the driver took off, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “I’m Bea Hughes? Really?”

 ***

Bea sat in front of her tv, a pen and notepad in her hand. She couldn’t think of anything to write down. How do you write a love letter, or a confession? This is the one thing she had trouble writing. The tv blasted on with 1987’s “Wings of Desire”. Bea cocked her head to the side when the man started to profess his love. She put her pen to the pad and started writing. 

 Poppy,

 You don’t know me, and truth be told I see that as a good thing. You know that saying, there are plenty of fish in the sea? Well I am not a fisherman, nor do I think you are a fish. Letters are not the form of communication that I would personally prefer, but I am the one writing to you. So no more complaining. I think you are interesting. Like a book I want to read. I’d even read the author’s notes at the end just to get every bit of you. I don’t desire a lot of things, but I long for a wave of love to swell up in me. That’s what makes me so clumsy: the lack of pleasure.

 Yours, 

Carter 

***

Bea pushes down on her pedals, pacing her breath with each turn of the wheels beneath her. The voice of Carter appears as he races behind her, careful not to send her flying last time. Then she’d never write a letter again.  “Bea! She wrote back!”

 The blonde pulled the brakes on her bicycle so hard a wheel might have popped off. She was out of breath but suddenly the reason for it was different. Bea grabs the letter from Carter’s hands and makes haste to read the words she imagined would sit on the paper. 

  Carter,

 I like Wim Wenders too. Wouldn’t have plagiarized him though.

 -Poppy 

“Who’s Wim Wenders and why’d you cheat off of him? Bea I looked up what plagiarism meant.”

 “I didn’t cheat off of him!...Okay maybe I did but this is a good thing!”

 “HOW?”

 “It’s...it’s like a game. She’s challenging us..but in a good way.” Bea nods to Carter but also to herself. There was a response. She didn’t think that Poppy would write back but she did and it has changed Bea’s outlook on everything. She was in, and there was no way it could stop now. 

 “So...are we back in the game?” Carter’s words jumble Bea out of her thoughts and she stutters, “Yep..yes we are.” No you are. “We are definitely back in it.” Nope just you Bea. 

 Bea leaves Carter with an awkward fist bump before peddling away, her mind racing with a million thoughts. But they always seem to close back into one familiar blonde who danced and did everything Bea couldn’t. She sighed, the adrenaline pumping its way out of her lungs. 

 “Game on, Poppy Min Sinclair.”

***

 Bea spent the following days perfecting her next letter to Poppy. This one would be more heartfelt, and less cringe and plagiaristic like her last one. It would come from her and only her...but for Carter of course. The thing is, when Bea started writing again, she didn’t think about the fact that Carter would take credit for everything on the paper, and that he would be the one that develops a *possible* relationship with Poppy. Maybe she didn’t want to think about that part, but the other parts brought just the right amount of serotonin to make her shitty day better. Everything she read, everywhere she went reminded her of the strawberry blonde, and of the unfinished letter. Bea attempted to step into the life of Carter’s and speak like a jock would, without making him seem like something he is not. But that was hard. Because it was her words, her mind. Carter would take that from her, even if it was unintentional. 

 It didn’t help that Carter didn’t want them to be seen together in public. He would slide to the opposite end of the bench in the church when his football buddies would come in. Bea didn’t take it personal. She of course had other things going through her mind. 

 It took 7 days. One week. To finish the second letter, a very short one. Bea wouldn’t describe herself as a perfectionist, but every word that Poppy would read had to be perfect.

Dear Poppy,

 Okay you got me…

 Now that that’s done, let’s start over yeah? I’ll start by saying that I sometimes hide behind other people’s words. For one thing, I know nothing about love. I’m 17 and I’ve lived in Farmsville my whole life. I hang out with my friends, I keep my head down. I’m a simple...guy. Which is to say, if I knew what love was, I would quote myself. But I don’t. I have a question for you, please answer it in any way you want. Are you happy where you are right now?

 -Carter

Bea sat in the church, silently tapping away at the keys of piano, a simple soft melody following the nod of her head. Carter had found her like that but didn’t want to disturb. Except, Poppy wrote back again, so this was big news. They both sat in confession booths as Bea read the letter quietly, her hand gripping the edges a little too harshly. 

Dear Carter,

 You know that it takes eleven muscles to yawn? This is the sort of weird fact I find myself recalling to keep myself from...well yawning. Or showing anything I feel really. And I find myself doing that a lot. So yeah..believe it or not, I turn to other people’s words too. 

 When you’re a pretty girl, and I know it makes me sound conceited, but sometimes I am, but that’s why you’re even writing to me right? I mean my image is what gives me attention, I’ve grown used to that fact. When you’re a pretty girl, people want to give you things. What they really want is to make you like them. Not like them as in, “i like you”, but like them as in, “i am like you.” You may think I’m different, but I’m like a lot of other people. Which makes me kind of no one. It looks like I’ve found my place but I really haven’t. Just a girl who’s lost in the mix. I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you this, but you provide the sort of safety I always craved. You’re interesting Carter, I like you. 

 -Poppy 

Bea read the last sentence more times than she should’ve. Carter watched her silently as she stared into the lines of the paper, maybe hoping that more words would magically appear. The blonde couldn’t describe the feeling in her chest, but it hurt. Physically. 

 “Uh...can I text her now?”

 “Too soon.”

 “No, I'm gonna do it now.”

 Bea felt herself starting to get frustrated, but calmness always overtook any other feeling she had. She was taught to be rational.

 “You do that and she’ll think you’re just like everyone else.” You’re not like anyone else Bea, she needs to know that. 

 Carter lets out a heavy sigh and pulls out his phone. Bea felt a buzz in her pocket and pulled hers out as well. A message pops up alerting Bea of another income of $50 being sent to her. 

***

 Bea slogged through the crowded halls trying to find the exit but before she can walk any further, a firm hand grabs her and pulls her into a familiar classroom. The blonde turns to scowl at the perpetrator which was probably Bradley, but instead she sees bright red lips and black glasses. Ms. Kingsley. But she doesn’t look too happy.

 The older woman holds up a paper which Bea recognizes immediately as her letter to Poppy. How in the world did she get that? 

 “So...this is why half my class is failing their essays?”

 Bea could make a snarky comment back to her, but the sight of the letter sends her thoughts spiraling once again. She lets out a defeated sigh. I mean how did this woman know she’d  written that letter? Ina Kingsley knew everything. “Look...I’ll be reopen for business soon enough.” Bea starts to turn to leave and looks at Kingsley one more time. “I can’t do this for much longer.”

 Bea couldn’t hold in her feelings for much longer as well. But not even Kingsley knew that. She walked out of the classroom with her head down, hoping to avoid eye contact with the one she wanted to see the most. 

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

End Note: Part two is here woah. Thought it would never come. 

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii  @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy @cloakanddaggerthings @straightlikewetspaghetti 

[wolfuckstar]

Handmade Heaven

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31377314/chapters/77593565

1st august, 1986, Friday, 4 days till New Moon.

Day after Harry's sixth birthday.

Keiss, north end of Sinclair's Bay, east coast of Caithness, Scotland.

Summer.

7 AM.

"When you learn to ride the bike, I will let you use the broom."

"I don't understand why I got a broom if I can't use THE BROOM."

Remus laughed from where he was sitting, the Daily Prophet covering his face from the wind, his winter robe over his sweatshirt.

"For the fifth time" Sirius yawned, probably still indignant at having risen with the sun on an unusually cloudy Friday for a summer. The man ran his hand over his beard, opened his mouth to continue talking, but seemed to think better of it and gave up.

"I want to fly on the broom!" As irritating as the boy could be, the two missing teeth in front of his mouth would not let any of the men present take him seriously.

"Well, I want a new record, are you going to give me one?"

Remus put the paper down and gave Sirius a dismayed look.

"I don't care about your record." Harry's bottom lip was almost quivering now.

"Don't you care about David Bowie's Labyrinth?"

The boy seemed to be in doubt now. And Sirius looked more awake than he did 5 minutes ago, which was great. But not that great, since he had forgotten the packet of cigarettes inside the house and the only place he could smoke was outside.

"Don't you care about Queen's Kind of Magic?!" He asked, his voice emphatic and a playful, slightly insane look on his pillow-stained face.

The six-year-old boy seemed to think for a moment, but his green eyes behind the round lenses of his glasses soon found the Nimbus 85 leaning against the entrance door of the house and his expression went rigid again.

"I want to fly! Moony!’’ Harry called.

"Harry, dear" Remus had already given up on finishing reading the news, and threw the newspaper on the woody floor of the porch while answering loudly so that they could hear him from the small road after the fence "If you manage to ride the bike till the lamppost and back three times, we'll let you ride the broom, okay?" He reached over to the small table beside him to reach for the cup of tea, trying hard not to sigh at the stinging pains in his ribs and elbows. The happiness he'd felt when they figured it out that the full moon was over a week before Harry's birthday had passed, and all he could feel were the consequences of the damage. He knew he should remain optimistic, there was no point in brooding over his sufferings, he and Sirius had learned that over the past six years. He could allow himself to feel the pain, but at some point, you just have to let it go.

Keiss had an elementary school, which was a surprise at first. On the outside, the building looked like just one of the small houses on High Street, two stories, two windows, simple plant pots made of clay scattered on the asphalt of the sidewalk. Harry had started attending school a year ago and frequently went to the small park next to it even on weekends, when they were too tired to walk to the ruins on the beach or when they just didn't want to eat sandwiches sitting on the stone wall of the harbor. Sometimes, they visited the field next to the school to teach him how to play football. Remus would teach them while Sirius would make contemptuous comments about how much better Quidditch was and how Muggles didn't use their imagination, but in the end, it was just because he didn't know how to play.

There was a church on South Street, parallel to High Street. And, like everything else in Keiss, you could see the church from the school, and the beach from the church, and the beach from anywhere in the village. There, the vastness of the sky, the grass, and the sea seemed to swallow up everything else, suffocating them with peace, freedom, and salt air.

They did not live exactly in Keiss’s downtown, but just a few minutes walking would take them there. They didn't have a car either. There was no need. They owned an old, faded blue and rusty bicycle that they used when they needed to go shopping. And now, there was the red children's bicycle, bought in Wick, a town to the south, also in Caithness County. Remus and Sirius had agreed to give Harry the broom, as long as the boy also learned to ride a bicycle. Once the two men understood that this was what Lily would like, it had been easy not to worry about the money that would spend on the present.

After a few minutes explaining the whole theory behind the practice, Harry seemed minimally ready to try it himself and Sirius removed his hand from the bicycle seat, where he was holding to balance it. The boy took half a step forward and fell to the side, falling obtusely on the asphalt.

The men waited a moment before making any moves or questions. They had learned that, depending on how they reacted, Harry tended to cry or not.

The boy rested his hands on the floor and looked at the godfather with a crease between his eyebrows as if he had understood something incredibly difficult.

"If I had fallen off the broom, it would have hurt more, wouldn't it?" Harry found out.

Sirius Black threw his head back in a laugh that reverberated through the silent properties around him.

"Come on" The man bowed, extending his hand, helping him to his feet. When Harry was already standing, Black ran his hands over his little legs, removing the dirt from the small pointed and scraped knees. Sirius saw that the glasses were slightly crooked and adjusted them, still laughing "If you pick up speed, the bike won't tip over."

"If I go faster ..." The boy thought out loud "How am I going to stop? I don't know how to stop.”

"Er ..." The man was clearly not a big bike connoisseur.

"Use the brakes, Harry." Remus replied as he approached, extending the second cup of tea to Sirius "Use the brakes and put a foot on the pavement slowly."

The boy nodded and picked up the bike from the floor. Black helped him to give momentum, accompanying him with his hand on the back of the bench to give balance. After a few steps, he released it again. Sirius went back to Remus and took the cup of tea as he said.

"Sometimes I forget that he is only six years old." He took a sip "He's so smart."

A few meters ahead, Harry fell again.

The boy stood still for a few seconds, probably wondering if any damage had been done that would be worth crying. Still lying on the floor, he looked back and smiled at the two men, then got up.

"At least, he thinks for a while before being dramatic." Remus smiled behind the cup "Unlike some."

Sirius shoved him lightly with his shoulder.

"Idiot."

They looked at the boy, who was now putting the bicycle in their direction to pedal back to the front of the house.

"I don't think I managed to say good morning to you with Harry jumping on the bed," Black commented, looking away from the boy.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to say good night too with the number of scratches that I will have to cure later." Remus replies, but leans in anyway, resting his chin on the other's shoulder, inhaling Sirius Black's scent until he feels ecstatic and whisper "Good morning."

"Good morning." As he leaned in to answer, Sirius' beard crawled along the side of his cheek, causing shivers on his back.

Some birds from the ocean sang above their heads. The green grass of the surrounding properties rustled in the wind. The sun was a bright spot in the cloud-covered sky. There were no mountains, just the immensity of fields interrupted by small lakes and the North Sea.

"Maybe we should tell Harry to start pressing the brakes now," Sirius murmured, his voice slightly concerned.

Lupin raised his head in time to see the boy speeding towards them.

“Moony! Pads! Look! Pads! At full speed!” Harry repeated the phrase his godfather had said. The wind laced his black hair back, and his toothless smile melted more than the surface of the hearts of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

"The brakes, Harry!"

Unfortunately, Remus had to heal scratches on more than one person that night.

[nerdypanda3126]

Congrats on 100! If I’m not too late to request, I’d love #2 with Lukanette, please.

2. “I think I’m in love with you and it scares the hell out of me.” 

Thank you so much for the prompt, angie! I hope you like it :3 

Accidents Happen

Read on Ao3

It was an accident.

Ladybug was taking back Luka’s Miraculous, and her earrings were beeping frantically. He hurried to get his bracelet off and back in the box, but he fumbled it and they both landed at his feet. As he crouched to pick them back up, her transformation dropped and he saw her flats—Marinette’s flats—before he was able to slam his eyes shut.

She swore under her breath and he felt her crouch beside him to slip something out from under his fingers.

“Did you see anything?” she asked, her tone all business. He heard her pack his Miraculous away and the box snapped shut. All he could do was nod. How had he never noticed that Ladybug’s voice matched Marinette’s? There was more authority, more confidence, sure, but it was unmistakably her. He felt her fingers brush his hair away from his eyes, but he kept them dutifully closed.

“We’ll talk later, Luka.” Her tone had softened, and before he could say anything, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek. His eyes flew open, but she was already gone.

He saw Marinette several times over the next two weeks, but she was always with her group of friends, or with Kitty Section, or she’d catch his eye and go pale before changing direction and marching away from him.

He didn’t mind waiting. She said she’d talk to him, and he knew she would when she was ready. But it still stung to think that she was purposefully creating reasons not to talk to him. To avoid him, even. In an effort to distract himself, he worked out his frustration as he biked around town delivering pizzas.

He stood to get more leverage on his bike and pedaled hard, not particularly caring where he was going, just so long as he was moving. No one else knew. She hadn’t had to talk to anyone else about this, yet. Who knew what she was feeling or working through right now. Although he wished she would work it out with him instead of alone. Why did she always take everything on herself? Didn’t she know he was there for her and he only wanted to help and—

He braked hard to avoid biking directly into traffic, but he’d been going too fast and his balance was off. He was flung over the handlebars onto the sidewalk. His palms and forearms scraped against the pavement as he caught himself. His helmet hit with a crack and bounced before he skidded to a stop.

He hissed as he rolled over and sat up. Good thing he’d been wearing pads and a helmet, but it still didn’t prevent him from feeling like a bug splattered across a windshield. He looked back at his bike. Pizza was scattered everywhere. His bike was upside down. The front wheel was still spinning at an odd angle and his basket was crumpled. Thankfully he’d left his guitar in his locker at work today. That was another good thing, at least. He groaned and lay back against the sidewalk. This day could not get worse.

“Luka?”

Correction. This day could get worse. Because Marinette was standing in the door of her parents' bakery and had just seen him eat pavement.

“Oh my God, Luka!” She rushed over to him, and her hands were a flurry around him, a thousand little touches that went like electric shocks straight to his heart. Her fingers on his forehead, his arms, his cheeks, and the whole time a worried frown plastered on her face.

“I’m okay.” He smiled and tried to stand to prove it, but he hissed as soon as he put weight on his right foot.

“No, you’re not.” She slipped her arm under his to support him and steered him towards the bakery.

“Marinette, I have to finish my shift and—” She silenced him with a look.

“Your boss will have to understand.” There was that tone again. Ladybug. He was too stunned to argue anymore. Instead, he let her lead him inside and set him down in a chair inside the bakery. She unhooked his helmet and laid it aside, pushed a phone into his hands, and ordered him to call his work before she flitted upstairs.

By the time he’d called, explained, and hung up, she was back with a first aid kit. She started tending to him quietly, quieter than he’d ever known Marinette to be, and she was just starting to scare him when she paused in wrapping his ankle and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

His breath caught in his throat. He started to say something, but she held up a finger to ask him to wait. He nodded and closed his mouth again.

“I was trying to find the right time and the right words, but I guess the right time found me, didn’t it?” She smiled and placed his newly bandaged foot back on the floor. “I know…” she bit her lip and looked away. “I know that you know.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “But there’s something else. Something I need to talk to you about, especially now that you know, and it’s important.”

He nodded to show her he was listening. She glanced around the empty bakery before she sighed.

“I’ve been avoiding you because…” she was twisting her fingers around each other and a blush was creeping up her cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her hand.

“Because I think I’m in love with you?” Her words left her in a rush. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard right. “And it scares the hell out of me, Luka, because, well, because I have responsibilities and now you know what those are and I wanted to tell you for so long, but what if—I mean, it’s dangerous for me to be attached to anyone. Especially someone who also holds a Miraculous, and especially especially someone who knows who I am but…”

Her eyes traveled back to his. “But I can’t help it,” she admitted softly, “I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I was trying not to talk to you, I was wishing I could talk to you. And every time I see you, my heart just pounds out of my chest and I didn’t know how to tell you, so I avoided you. And I’m sorry. And now you’re hurt and I’m telling you and I didn’t want it to be like this, but I couldn’t wait anymore. So there it is.”

He let her words settle into the silence between them. He’d heard her, of course, but the actual words were taking their sweet time to sink in.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she was starting to frown. “Luka? Will you please say something? You’re kinda staring at me.”

Was he staring? Was he even awake? No possible way this was real life. Although when he tried to move his right ankle, it certainly stung like real pain. He winced as he shifted forwards to take her hands in his.

“Marinette?”

She gulped and nodded.

“I think I might have hit my head when I fell.” He chuckled and squeezed her hands. “Can we back up just a little bit? Back to the ‘you think you’re in love with me’ part?”  

She fidgeted and he let her pull away from him so she could pack away her kit and keep her eyes down. She’d talk when she was ready. He was patient; he could wait. He focused on his breathing while he gave her space to think. Finally, she stopped moving and looked back up at him.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Luka.”

He smiled and scooted out of his chair to lower himself to the floor next to her. He pushed the kit aside and tipped her chin towards him so he could look in her eyes.

“It would be worth it.” He stroked her cheek gently and her blush sprang up under his touch. “I would crash my bike every day if it meant you would tell me you loved me again.”

“You did hit your head,” she muttered, but she was smiling and her cheeks were getting redder by the second. “And besides, that’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”

“I know.” He pushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear again, exposing her plain black earrings. Even though he knew, even though he’d seen, he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Marinette was already amazing and brave and kind and now she was also the heroine of Paris. He let out a soft laugh. “You are the most extraordinary girl, Marinette. And to be honest, you scare the hell outta me, too.”

“I do?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“You don’t seem scared.”

He held out his hand and gestured for her to give him hers. She laid her hand in his with wide eyes and he watched her expression as he brought her hand up to his chest to lay over his racing heart. He swore it picked up a beat or two when she splayed her fingers across his shirt.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted softly. He had to pause to take a deep breath because he was starting to get light-headed. This day had started as one of his worst, and her admission had turned everything on its head. Including him, apparently. He chuckled softly. She never failed to surprise him, that was for sure. “I have what’s probably a sprained ankle,” he continued,  “maybe some road rash, I’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow, and my bike is wrecked.”

She started to frown and pull away, but he pressed his hand against hers to hold her there.

“And I’m still the luckiest person alive right now.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. He paused again to let her process before he wrapped his hand around hers to hold it. “I’m in love with this amazing girl—” he smiled when her breath hitched— “and she just told me she might feel the same way. If you asked me, I could get up and tap dance right now.” She giggled and his smile grew. He loved that sound. He loved her. “Marinette…”

He tucked his finger under her chin again to angle her lips up. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I can take the bike wrecks,” he whispered, “and anything else if it means I can be with you.”

He waited, eyes closed and heart open, for her to consider. After a few moments of excruciating silence, her breath fanned across his lips and then she was pressing into him hungrily. Her hands tangled in his hair and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, ignoring the small sting as his raw forearm scraped against her jacket.

A not-so-subtle throat clear at the door broke them apart. Luka opened his eyes and found Marinette’s mom crossing her arms and surveying the two of them sprawled across the bakery floor. Luka’s face flamed, and he waved sheepishly. Marinette untangled herself and helped him up, and they both blushed when she slipped her arm under his again. He might’ve leaned into her a little more than he needed to, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“Luka was hurt,” Marinette rushed to explain. “His bike and his foot and I—”

“I saw his bike outside.” Her mom was starting to smile and she gestured to Luka to sit back down. Marinette helped him into his chair. “Your dad will be home soon and if you don’t want a full 12-course sweetheart banquet, I suggest we keep the rest between us.” She winked and went behind the counter, leaving Luka and Marinette relatively alone again. She caught his eye and they both let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“We can always say it was an accident,” he said, smirking.

She shoved his shoulder playfully before she sat next to him, definitely closer than necessary. His arm fell easily around her shoulders.

They were quiet for a moment while they both let their conversation and the resulting kiss sink in. He started humming absent-mindedly while he rubbed small circles on her shoulder with his thumb. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. He was patient. He could wait. Heart racing, barely breathing, fearfully hoping—he could wait for her.

"Luka?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled as he looked back at her, snuggled into his side like she belonged there. "Hmm?"

She reached out to worry at the zipper of his hoodie. "Is it really that simple?"

He sighed and gave her shoulders a small squeeze before he moved her hand over his chest and laid it over his galloping heart again. He tapped out his rhythm on the back of her hand until it finally slowed. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and leaned into him.

He laid his head back against the wall and smiled as he sighed again, this time in deep relief.

"It can be."

[1dliveshere]

The Last Summer Ch.2

The morning they were leaving had finally arrived. Alyssa was upstairs finishing packing her bags.

“Mom! Have you send my phone charger? I can’t find it anywhere!!”

“I don’t know why you are wasting you time packing. Your dad and I already said you can’t go.”

“That’s completely unfair and ridiculous. It’s not like I’ll be gone the whole summer.”

“This trip is nothing but a distraction from preparing for college. You aren’t going. End of discussion.”

Alyssa headed up stairs as she rolled her eyes.

‘How can my parents be so unfair’ Alyssa thought to herself as she started unpacking.

*ding*

Alyssa was sitting on her bed listening to sad music when Kayla busted through the door.

“What the freak?! What do you mean your parents are being unfair?? Why are your suitcases empty??”

“My parents won’t let me go. They say this trip is a distraction from college.”

“Well that’s crap. It’s not like we won’t be back before school starts.”

“That’s what I told them but they wouldn’t listen.”

After sitting in silence for a few seconds, Kayla jumps off the bed and grabs Alyssa’s suitcase.

“What the heckling are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Kayla threw a bunch of clothes in the suitcase.

“I already told you they won’t let me go.”

“I already told you we’d go no matter what our parents say” Kayla smirked. “This is our last summer together until we will literally be across the country from each other. We’ve spent every second of every summer together for the last 7 years are you really going to let your parents ruin this?”

“Freaking screw it. I’m going end of story” Alyssa quickly packed everything she would need and headed down the stairs.

As the girls headed out the front door Alyssa’s parents quickly followed.

“Where do you think your going?? We already told you you weren’t going. Get your butt back inside.”

“Sorry I can’t do that”

As the 4 of them looked up here came Harry’s RV down the driveway.

The girls started walking to their friends as Harry and Niall got out of the front of the RV.

“KAYLA” “ALYSSA” “DON’T WALK AWAY FROM US”

“What’s up with your parents babe?” Niall looked at Alyssa.

“They don’t think this is a good idea.” Alyssa handed Niall her stuff.

Right as the we’re getting ready to step onto the RV Alyssa’s parents called out.

“Alyssa Forrest, if you step foot on the RV you aren’t welcome home.”

Everyone’s mouths in the vehicle fell open.

“Hey babe you should probably go back”

“ You know what if they’re going to treat me like that screw them. I’m going. I don’t freaking care anymore.”

Alyssa turned to look back at her parents and jumped in the RV.

Everyone in the RV cheered as Harry started on the road.

After it got silent, everyone started to hear sniffling.

“Woah woah woah who’s crying? We should make it a rule that there’s no crying on our trip.” Louis looked at everyone.

“Alyssa, I’m sorry. That was really crappy of us to put that much pressure on you. Harry, turn around we need to take her home.”

“No, Kayla it’s fine. It’s not you guys. I really want to go.”

“As long as your comfortable with it, babe” Niall turned around in his seat.

“Okay let’s get this road trip started. Which direction are we going? I kinda need to know which way to turn.” Harry laughed

“Hit the freaking freeway bro.” Liam yelled across the entire RV.

“Turn the tunes on. A road trip isn’t good until there’s music.”

“Oohhh I got it!!!! I have a road trip playlist.” Louis handed his phone to Niall.

“Of course you do.” Zayn rolled his eyes.

Alyssa sat next to the window processing what had just happened.

“Hey, you okay boo? You’ve been quite since we left.” Kayla sat next to Alyssa.

“Yeah I’m fine. It just kinda hit me what just happened.”

“Well even if your parents get rid of you, you always have me. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” Kayla hugged Alyssa.

“Awwwww” The entire bus erupted.

“Shut the freak up” Alyssa laughed.

“Seriously though. No one is being left behind ever. We will always be best friends and that’s all that matters.” Liam smiled.

“Great speech Li. Really inspirational.” Louis clapped.

“Thanks for ruining the moment...”

*3 hours later*

“Hey guys is anyone else getting hungry. I’m starving” Harry said from the drivers seat.

“I could eat.”

“Niall you can always eat.” Laughs Alyssa.

“Hey don’t judge me.”

“Okay I’m going to stop at McDonald’s since it’s at the nest exit.” Harry switched lanes.

While Harry ordered all the food Zayn and Louis popped up the table while everyone else found a seat. After they got the food everyone dug in.

“Mmmmm this is so good”

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Harry how far are we from Utah?” Louis asked with his mouth full of food.

“I don’t know maybe 2 hours” Harry said will turning the turning signal on. As Harry took the turn he turned the wheel too much which caused Louis drink to go flying everywhere. All the pop landed on Kayla and Alyssa who happened to be sitting in the booth across from him.

Kayla let out a super high pitched, “AHHHHHHH!!!! Louis look what you did. You ruined my pants. I have no sweatpants now”

“Look what I did?! It was freaking Harold who turned like a psycho!”

“Guys I’m sorry it’s so difficult to turn while holding a hamburger!!”

“Harry we have to find a laundromat. I can’t survive without sweatpants.”

“I brought a ton of sweatpants. You can just where those, love.”

“See problem solved” Louis shrugged is shoulders.

“You’re lucky Tomlinson.” Kayla eyed Louis.

After everyone finished eating it was a pretty chill afternoon. Harry and Kayla took the front seats and chatted quitely amongst themselves. Liam, Maya, Zayn, and Gigi played uno for literally hours. Niall and Louis were playing FIFA and being extremely loud. Alyssa and Eleanor were scrolling on their phones and occasionally showing each other something.

2 pm came around and they hadn’t stopped since McDonald’s. Kayla had to pee since 1, but didn’t want to make a pit stop. She has always hated to be a burden. She couldn’t hold it any longer though.

“Harry I have to pee like really really bad”

“Why didn’t you pee at McDonald’s?”

“I didn’t have to then.”

“Okay well it might be a little bit before I can stop. We are literally in the middle of nowhere.”

“Harry I don’t think you understand, I have to pee like now. It’s not my fault the stupid toilet doesn’t work in the RV. So find me a bathroom ASAP.”

“Harry it has been 10 minutes and we still haven’t stopped. I’m going to actually pee my pants.” Kayla said panicked.

“The exit is right here. You can pee in like 5 minutes.” Harry took the exit to Salt Lake City, Utah.

By this time everyone knew Kayla had to pee. I mean she had only said it twelve times.

Harry pulled in a Kwik stop while Kayla unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Kayla chill we haven’t even rolled to a stop yet.”

“Harry I can’t good it any longer. I NEED TO GO PEEEEE!!!”

“Kayla you can’t just jump out of the moving RV”

Everyone when from laughing at their bickering to dead serious as Kayla flung the door open and jumped out.

“KAYLA WHAT THE FREAK” Harry slammed into the brakes makes Gigi fly off of Zayn’s lap onto the ground.

“Alyssa run after her!! I don’t want her to go by herself and die!” Harry stately sounding freaked out.

“I got her! Kayla wait I’m coming with!!!”

“I HAVE TO PEE!” Kayla yelled across the parking lot gaining weird looks from everyone there.

Once Kayla got to the bathroom she sat down on the toilet only to find she started her period.

“Oh crap!!”

“What’s wrong?” Alyssa asked from the stall next to her.

“I started my period and I didn’t bring anything. I wasn’t supposed to start right now.”

“Oh. I would totally share some with you, but I didn’t bring any tampons. I’m sorry.” Alyssa yelled over the toilet flushing.

“It’s okay. I’ll just buy s—crap I didn’t bring my wallet with me. I new I forgot something.”

“Oh that ain’t good.” Alyssa said looking at Kayla through the mirror.

“It’s okay. I’ll just wrap toilet paper up and home it works.” Kayla looked concerned “I’m sure it will be okay.”

As the girls walked back to the RV Kayla hopped in the front seat looking at Harry. He looked ticked.

“Sorry I just couldn’t hold it.” Kayla smiled sheepishly.

Harry didn’t even respond. He just started the engine and drove off.

Everyone went back to what they were doing. Except for Harry and Kayla. He wouldn’t even speak a word to her. She knew he was mad.

“Hey Liam you haven’t had a turn to ride shotgun. You can come sit up here with Harry.”

Liam hopped up from his spot on the couch and ran up to take it.

Awhile passed and it was super awkward in the bus. Usually Harry and Kayla were talking and being all lovey dovey, but not now.

Kayla walked up to the front of the RV, “ Harry how much longer until we get to Wyoming?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“Harry, what time are we going to be in Wyoming?” Kayla asked again.

Still no answer.

Liam looked uncomfortably between Harry and Kayla, “probably an hour or so.”

“Thanks Li.” Kayla softly smiled.

As she walked back to her seat she couldn’t help but cry. Here she was, started her period with no pads and now her boyfriend wouldn’t talk to her. This trip was going so well.

As Harry drove down the highway all he could think about was the fact that the love of his life jumped out of a moving vehicle. She could have been hurt or worse. Liam was going on about some song he had recently found, but Harry couldn’t focus on anything but Kayla. He happened to look in the rierveiw mirror and saw Kayla. It broke his heart.

There she was sitting on the couch by herself, staring out the window with tears falling down her cheeks. How could he have been so mean to her? He slammed on the breaks almost sending Liam into the dash.

“Whoa what the heck Harry? What’d you do that for?” Niall said as he picked is phone up off the ground from where it flew off the table.

Harry said nothing. Just through it into park and jumped out of the drivers seat.

“He does realize he’s in the middle of the road right?!”

“We’re going to die!!”

Harry ran around the front of the RV and jumped in the back. Everyone was so confused what was happening.

“Babe I’m so sorry I was a jerk. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. It just scared me when you did that. I can’t lose you.” Harry said staring into Kayla’s year filled eyes.

Kayla didn’t say a word, just grabbed onto Harry for dear life and hugged him. Harry through the keys at Liam and told him to drive. Liam panicked a little as he had never driven anything so big before.

“Louis go sit up there with Liam and keep him company” Niall looked at Louis.

Louis ran up to the front like a giddy kid in a candy shop.

“I’m sorry I’m crying. It’s not just y-you.” Kayla sniffled. “ I started my period and didn’t bring anything and now I’m going to ruin all my pants.”

“Babe why didn’t you say anything. I have tampons in the bathroom for when you stay over.”

“I didn’t say anything because you wouldn’t talk to me.”

Harry rubbed his neck, “ I’m sorry. Do you want to go clean up and then take a nap.”

“That sounds lovely.” Kayla wiped under her eyes.

“Hey guys were going to go take a nap. Kaylas tired”

“Okay! I’ll keep driving straight” Liam stated from the drivers seat.

“You know a nap really sounds good right now. I think that’s what I’m going to do to.”

Everyone agreed with Zayn. So they all ended up taking naps.

While everyone was sound asleep Liam and Louis were actually getting along for once.

“Liam, I know I annoy you a lot and don’t say it much, but I really do love ya man.” Louis looked at Liam.

“Thanks mate I love you too” Liams eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Louis and Liam had always argued. Liam was so mature and Louis was... well like a big kid, so they always butted heads.

As they continue to drive it started raining. And by raining I mean pouring. Liam could barely see 2 feet in front of the RV. You could say he was panicking a little.

Harry awoke to the sound of rain hitting the window in his room. He quickly jumped up. You see Harry never liked people driving his RV; especially when it rained. As he passed through the kitchen he noticed it was already 5 pm. Had they really slept that long?

“Liam pull over and let me drive. It makes me nervous letting someone else drive my baby.”

“Gladly” Liam pulled over to the side of the road and let Harry jump in the front seat.

All the commotion woke everyone else up. As they continued going down the road, Harry murged onto the interstate.

“ I hate driving on the interstate”

“You could always let me drive.”

“Louis I would rather let a baby drive my RV.”

At this point everyone was back in the living area.

“Well I have to shower and I want to first. So I’m gonna go do that.” Alyssa walked towards the bathroom after grabbing her things.

All the girls ran to get their stuff so they wouldn’t be last. With that many people to shower it wasn’t until 9 that they were all showered and ready for bed. Niall and Harry were not riding in the front while Gigi and Maya were fighting over what movie to watch. They finally agreed on some random romance movie.

“We will have to figure out the sleeping arrangements. I’m obviously taking the master since it’s my RV. That leaves 2 bunks, the couch, and the floor.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor just saying” Louis said sounding like a royal pain.

“Maya and I can take the floor as long as we switch out everyday” Liam stated.

“Zayn and I can take the couch. It’s really no biggie.” Gigi offered.

“Okay that means Alyssa, Niall, Louis, and Eleanor get the beds”

As the night winded down everyone had gone to their sleeping areas except for Niall and Harry; they were still seated in the front of the RV.

“I think I’m just going to drive through the night. That way we can hit more places.”

“I’ll stay up with ya mate.”

As the night rolled on everyone was excited to see what tomorrow holds. Today may have been boring but tomorrow they were going to be stopping at quite a few places.

There is it! Ch 2 of “The Last Summer” we hope you guys liked it!! Chapter 3 will be up next Sunday night :)

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Face to Unfamiliar Face pt 4

This installment's POV is brought to you by @thebestworstidea . Hopefully it lives up to expectations!

*

Roman had managed to wedge himself between the door, the dash, and Leith’s feet, a scowl fixed firmly on his face. Dizzy had wedged herself between his legs and chest, and she was staring at everyone as they sped through town. 

“Please tell me you’ve actually been training as a witch,” Logan said in a strained voice. Roman almost snapped in response, but Dizzy kneaded at his chest. 

“Shoving everybody into the truck wasn’t arbitrary. He smells scared as hell, Roman.” He pursed his lips. 

“Duh,” he said in an incredibly collected manner. Dizzy used a little more claw in her kneading. 

“There’s a - thing, a doll thing. Have you done it before?”

“You mean poppets? Not by myself.”

“Right, no, of course, because that was after the deal.” Logan sounded like he would dearly like to smack his forehead against the wheel. “Does Thomas look worse or better?”

“How do I tell?” Leith asked. 

“Is he more interested in self-preservation, or breaking through the rear windshield to get to us?”

Leith craned around to look. “He’s still hanging onto the side.”

“Alright, then this direction is safe. For now, anyway,” he muttered. Roman was ashamed to say he had no idea where they were - he hadn’t been very concerned with tracking their turns, just on not sliding all over the floor as Logan (a stranger! A Fae stranger! Why was Roman even kind of trusting him? Was he trying to die?) drove like a maniac. They took a turn and then abruptly began to slow down, then turned again - probably into a driveway, given that Logan stomped on the brakes even harder. Logan was the first to jump out, going around to the bed of the truck. Leith opened the door, and Roman flailed as his back support disappeared. He grabbed blindly at Leith’s leg and the side of the door. When he was sure he wouldn’t take a header into the dirt, he glared up at him. Dizzy hissed.

“You first, Dizzy,” Roman grunted. She carefully arranged herself on his chest, then leapt to the ground, muttering unflattering things about Leith. Roman un-contorted himself, half-spilling onto the ground. Leith stepped gracefully from the cab and pushed the door shut behind him. Patton had already let himself out through Logan’s door. He was now standing very close to Logan - Roman couldn’t really blame him, though. He was pretty sure twenty minutes ago was the first time anyone had ever been nice to him besides his parents.

“‘M okay, Berry.”

“No, you’re not. Last time -“

“This is very not last time,” Thomas said. “I’ve got -“ he gestured inarticulately at his head. “I can see you and Virgil? And Roman’s standing near the King, and - it’s like she got him back and lost him all over again, Logan. She’s angry.”

“This is when I wish I could say: wonderful. Just what we needed.”

“What can we do, Berry?”

Logan hesitated. “Not a lot,” he admitted, cringing a little at the look on Thomas’s face. “We’ll ask May about poppets, and Leith and I both have a better handle on our magic than I did at the time.”

Thomas’s silence was grim. Logan helped him down, grimacing. 

“Tell me if she gets close?”

“I just didn’t realize what I was feeling until I was too angry and scared to say something,” Thomas admitted quietly. 

“Alright.” Logan gave him a quick squeeze and walked with him toward the house. Roman lengthened his stride to be at the front of the group. 

“Mamaw? I’ve got some guests.”

“Plural? Well, I’ll be damned.” Mamaw called from the kitchen. 

“Two of them are Green Men.” That brought Mamaw out of the kitchen, looking as ruffled as a startled hen.

“Salutations,” Leith and Logan said simultaneously.

“Care to tell me why Thomas is hangin’ off one of ‘em lookin’ half-dead?”

Roman opened his mouth to explain and then realized he didn’t have a damn idea. He looked to Logan. (A spark of doubt in the back of his mind asked why he was trusting a Fae, of all people. The voice of reason, which sounded awfully like Dizzy, pointed out that Logan couldn’t lie and had no obvious reason to twist the truth.)

“First, you should know that he isn’t the Thomas you’re familiar with. Secondly...Greta.” Logan give the name a strange weight, staring with eerie focus at Mamaw. When Roman looked back, she was quickly paling. 

“What?” Mamaw croaked. 

“There is a phenomenon we don’t understand at work, and it’s affecting Greta. She found Thomas at the churchyard. It’s a rather time-consuming explanation, but I theorize he’s the only one who was hearing her because she’s been in his head before.”

Roman looked back and forth between Logan and Mamaw - at least Patton looked as confused as he felt. Leith, too, to Roman’s surprise. 

“Greta?” Leith asked sharply before the conversation could continue. Logan looked at him grimly. 

“The Serpent King’s monster.” Now Leith had gone pale, and Roman was trying not to let his hackles rise at being one of the only two in the dark. “And the part you should like even less is that if she’s asking where her brother is, she’s not under his control.”

A grim silence fell, and Roman tried not to stew. Leith’s frown deepened suddenly and he cocked his head. At the same, Dizzy’s ears pricked into alertness.

“Something’s coming,” she said sharply. Leith hurried out the door, and Dizzy was right on his heels. Roman followed automatically. There was a shape at the end of the road, moving faster than a human ever could. Leith barely twitched, but Roman was pretty sure nobody else could be responsible for the fairytale-worthy wall of brambles that sprouted with a terrible noise between the house and the street. Roman pulled his knife. Logan came up on his other side, flexing his fingers. The shadows at the base of the wall of brambles distorted.

The Spider Prince materialized. He was breathtaking in motion. And - oh, those eyes. Roman had never seen such a vivid purple.

Vines sprang at the Spider Prince’s feet and twined around his legs. Frost spread rapidly across the ground at the prince’s feet, his eyes flashing. 

“Leith, wait!” Logan cried. The Spider Prince froze. The vines stopped growing, but didn’t retreat either, twining a little tighter around their victim. “...Virgil?”

“Logan!”

Logan sprinted off the porch, clusters of flowers in every footstep. Lavender roses and snowdrops and lemon balm traced his path through the front yard (including the steps he took off the porch. Dammit. Mamaw was going to make Roman take care of that, wasn’t she?). Logan threw his arms around the Spider Prince when he reached him, burying his face in his chest. Roman barely noticed Leith’s vines falling away. His chest ached terribly at the tender way the prince held Logan. 

“Mother said someone from out-of-town caused some portals...I think. I’m not sure I understood her right,” Virgil admitted. “What’s going on? You and Thomas got so scared.” Virgil stroked Logan’s hair.

“Portals would make sense,” Logan said, pulling back a little. “This place...I think it’s offset from us. I hope it’s a little offset from us,” Logan amended, grimacing. “It’s awfully late for Roman and Patton and Leith to pull things together if they’re perfectly in sync.”

Virgil’s eyes flickered to the Green Man on the porch before he gave his attention back to Logan.

“I would also be concerned for Wick Hills if they’re as late on their timeline as we are, because - well, because Greta’s investigation of the school happened independently of us, and I really hope that didn’t already happen with no one in a position to snap her out of it.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, tipping his head toward the sky.

“Fuck,” Virgil said passionately, opening his eyes and looking down. “That’s why. Are you okay?”

“She got in Thomas’s head again. I didn’t hear her, and she wasn’t too nearby, so - scared, but okay. But she’ll find us again, especially here.”

“Yeah.” Virgil looked up. “C’mon. Let’s get inside and regroup.”

Logan released Virgil, only to twine their fingers together. When he turned to see the path he’d left, color bloomed across his cheeks. He steadfastly pretended not to see it as they made their way back to the porch. Roman wasn’t sure when he’d let his wielding hand fall to his side, but he was glad he had. He sheathed his knife, glancing over to Leith. He frowned. Leith had that look from the Waller’s place again - carefully rounded shoulders and a stubbornly stiff neck. As Virgil and Logan hit the steps, Leith bowed his head very deliberately, and Roman’s stomach swooped unpleasantly at the vacancy in his eyes he’d caught before they were fixed on the ground. The pair of Fae walked past them into the house. Roman tried not to be too obvious about watching Leith.

“Are you coming, Roman?”

“Be inside in a minute, Prince Phillip.”

Roman heard them questioning the line of logic for that one (how could they not understand? Virgil, the formerly-comatose most beautiful man he’d ever seen; and Logan, the man on his arm), but he ignored it as the voices moved away. Dizzy padded inside - they’d each know half of what was going on and could put it together later when things were less crazy.

“Hey, Maleficent...you alright there?” Roman asked lowly, edging a little closer.

“I am adequate.” Leith’s voice was clipped as he picked his head up quickly, his body language still carefully relaxed and yet riddled with tension.

“Okay, fine, that’s what I said, but that’s not what I meant, and I think you knew that.” Roman crossed his arms. At least Leith couldn’t look quite so vacant while giving him sideways looks. 

“That is distinctly your problem,” Leith declared. Roman let out a string of sputtering, offended gasps and pressed a hand to his chest - and okay, maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but that had never hurt anyone, and he thought he might even see the corner of Leith’s lips twitching out of that blank mask. Leith didn’t do anything as obvious as taking a deep breath or rolling his shoulders, but a moment later, Roman felt like the guy he’d spent the day with was back. Leith looked at him once more and then went inside. Roman strode after him. Unnoticed by anyone, two sprigs of flowers grew resolutely in the spots where Leith’s feet had been planted - Love-in-a-mist on the right, lemon balm on the left. 

[takingcourage]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,800

Summary: Arden decides that her fiancé needs some assistance in his efforts to repair their home. 

Note: This story follows The Girl Next Door and will probably make more sense if you’ve read that story first. 

It had all started with her potted plants.

"Jinx just won't leave them alone," Arden had told him seriously. "They'll do better here anyway. You've got more sunlight than I do at the apartment."

He'd complied, giving her permission to put the pair of planters anywhere she liked.

Next, her clothes had started cropping up everywhere -- socks in his laundry basket, a set of pajamas in the nightstand drawer, and a pencil skirt and blouse that had staked their claim at the extreme end of his closet.

Jaime smiled every time he saw them -- these tangible reminders that she’d said yes -- that soon, this would be not just his house, but theirs. Besides, the slow infiltration just meant that there would be less work for them to do on moving day. 

When he arrived home from work on Friday evening, it came as little surprise to find her car parked in his driveway. The sedan had caught his eye as soon as he turned onto Sycamore Drive, messy as usual and looking for all the world like it belonged there. 

That's because it does, he thought as he parked his truck beside her in the doublewide drive. Or it will soon. He engaged the emergency brake and left the vehicle, already feeling the weight of the day begin to lessen. 

Leaving his keys in his pocket, he rapped a couple of times before he pushed open the front door. “I’m home!” he announced, voice a quiet singsong in his uncertainty where to direct the greeting. 

Any remaining tiredness evaporated the moment his eyes fell on Arden. 

She popped out from the hallway, an easy grin splitting her face. "I know I said I was working late tonight, but we finished everything and decided to start the weekend early." Bounding into the entry, she hopped up on her toes to receive the kiss that she knew was waiting for her. "I thought I'd come by and do some work on the house."

Jaime's eyes widened at the suggestion, and he finally looked beyond her happy face. Far from the professional attire she’d probably driven over in, she now wore a pair of threadbare basketball shorts and a T-shirt that still had the remnants of some long-forgotten art project staining both sides. Her short hair was tied up with a blue bandana that was knotted just above her left eyebrow. 

He knew at once the look that she’d been going for, but couldn’t help snickering at the full effect. 

Brown eyes flashed, and one finger raised to a point. The finger -- along with the rest of the hand, he noted -- was unnaturally red. “Stop thinking about me being cute. I’m here to do work,” Arden protested, wagging the finger she held out toward his chest. 

Jaime’s lips straightened at the appraisal, but his thoughts changed very little. She was always irresistible, but this style was completely new. “What work are you getting done?” he asked once suspicion had gotten the better of him. 

“Follow me,” she told him coyly, turning on her heel to travel back down the hall. 

When they reached the dining room, he couldn’t help taking stock of everything before he followed her movements. He knew Arden’s intentions were good, but what she’d tried to pass off as home repairs in the past typically included mass amounts of Gorilla Glue and duct tape. He breathed more easily on seeing that all was as he had left it, save for a bucket of soapy water that stood in the corner. 

"I've been cleaning the walls," she informed him proudly, retrieving a dripping sponge and squeezing the excess water with exaggerated finesse. “I was reading up on how to prep walls for painting and I came across this recipe for making a solution that removes leftover wallpaper adhesive and...”

Arden’s words trailed, brows furrowing as her eyes swung back to him. “Why should I have let you do it?”

Jaime hiked a hand through his hair. The thought hadn’t been conscious until he’d heard it from her lips, and now there was no way of taking it back. It didn’t even seem sensible from any objective metric, but he couldn’t help his instinct. 

“I...” he struggled, bringing the hand down to scratch the ridge behind his ear. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Arden. I promise it’s not that. It’s just... I kind of wanted to do all of this for you. Maybe that’s old fashioned of me.” 

The protest felt silly, but it was true. The changes he’d already made had been some of the most satisfying work he’d ever done. He’d imagined her bare feet padding along each panel of flooring, smiled over the thought of her towels joining his on the bathroom wall, and dreamed of their future with every single swipe of sandpaper and drop of paint. Letting someone else do part of that work felt like cheating. 

She tossed the sponge back into the bucket and wiped her wet hands on the legs of her shorts. There was no anger when her eyes met his, but the confusion he read there clenched his heart. 

“I thought you’d be happy that I was taking initiative. You’re always joking about how lazy I am when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

Jaime took a step toward the wall, contemplating the work she’d done while he’d been away. Arden was right, her help up to this point had rarely been anything more involved than holding the end of a tape measure. With a shake of his head, he called to mind the many times he’d tried to include her in his work without success. I should probably be grateful that she wants to help.  

Arden’s pensive tone put an end to his preoccupation. “I mean, I’m here for selfish reasons too.”

As she moved toward him, he extended a hand to cup her face, fingertips resting on the band of fabric that spanned her head. She surveyed him solemnly, her chipper excitement having fizzled out in the wake of their misunderstanding.

“I’m just so ready to live with you.” Her lips formed the words slowly, and Jaime had to work not to lose focus on what was being said. “I thought I would do anything I could to help speed along the process. And I love this house, Jaime. I’ve been imagining living in it for -- well, years, actually.” 

He traced the thick layer of cloth, his thumb resting on her temple thoughtfully. “I have too. And I can’t tell you how much I look forward to having you here all the time. But I want everything to be ready when it’s time for you to actually move in. I don’t want you to have to live somewhere with half-finished floors or tacky paint.” Please understand, Arden. 

The corner of her mouth tipped upward. “I think I do. But won’t it be ready faster if I help?”

Her simple question should have had a simple answer, but Jaime struggled to accept it. I just want it to be perfect for you.

Arden considered the words curiously before her eyes crinkled further. “It already feels perfect to me.” 

Jaime sighed faintly. “You know what I mean.” 

“I guess so. But doesn’t that mean we have work to do?” she surmised with a pointed glance at the walls.   

“Okay,” he told her, removing his jacket. Once done, he rolled the sleeves of his work shirt several inches. “Here’s my new plan. The jobs we can do together, we do together. If there’s something that takes a lot of training or experience, I’ll do it by myself. How’s that sound to you?”

Arden’s smile returned in full force. “It’s a deal.” She held out a slender hand and he shook it, noting her pruny fingers. 

“But we’re going to start by finding you a pair of gloves, okay?”

Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink. 

“Come with me to the garage,” he beckoned. 

On reaching their destination, he quickly located the box of gloves on top of his workbench. He withdrew a pair and held them out for his fiancée’s approval, but her back was turned and her interest focused elsewhere. 

“I love this color even more in person,” she told him, brushing a finger over the small sample drop on top of the paint cans she’d found. “It’s going to look amazing in there, especially with the new stain on the floors.” 

Jaime’s chest flip flopped at the enthusiasm in her tone, and he resisted the urge to pinch himself awake. “Let’s finish one step at a time,” he encouraged, stretching the gloves toward her in a second attempt. 

She retrieved them and tried them on, distracted. “What I’m really looking forward to is the primer. It’s like painting, but you can get a little crazy with it,” she told him intensely. “Doesn’t really matter what it looks like in the end.” 

He bit back a groan at the suggestion. The idea of Arden with anything resembling a paintbrush was vaguely disconcerting. 

“I’m kidding,” she assured. “At least partially.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” he offered, sliding open a drawer to find his stash of clean rags. “I think I’ve got what we need. Let’s head back in.” 

He followed her into the house, chuckling again as he caught a fresh glimpse of her ragged appearance. Any frustration or uncertainty he’d felt before was quickly melting away to leave little but fondness behind. I may not always understand you, but I sure am lucky to have you. 

She glanced back at him with a sly wink. 

“And I still can’t believe you finished a full week of work and wanted to come scrub walls instead of going home to binge Netflix. You’ve changed, Arden.” 

“They say love will do that to a person.” 

He rolled his eyes at her cheesy rejoinder and pretended to struggle to stretch the gloves over his palms. 

“And besides,” she admitted, “that wasn’t the only reason I came. I had some things I wanted to bring over too.” 

"Sneaking in more of your clothes?” 

Arden's nose wrinkled at the accusation. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

“I can’t wait to find them -- whatever they are.” He pushed a second sponge into the bucket, compressing it until it had been thoroughly saturated in the cleaner. 

“And I can’t wait to move in.” 

“That makes two of us.” He kissed her forehead and held out his sponge, motioning for her to do the same. “Let’s get to work.” 

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 6

Fandom:  Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3:

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Chapter 6 - Going Home

There was simply no way that her luggage allowance on the bus to Storybrooke would allow her to pack everything she wanted to. Still, Bellemade sure she left room among her clothes for some of the many books that were still piled (although now mostly in boxes) around Ruby’s apartment.

Ruby had agreed that she would look after them until Belle could find a way to get them to the small town in Maine, though for the record, told Belle that she still thought she was insane.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” she asked.  “What if you can’t find a place to live? You gonna camp out in the library after closing time?  String a hammock between the stacks or something?”

“No,” Belle couldn’t help the way her voice rose and fell on the end of her denial, wondering if, in fact, that was what she might have to end up doing.  Her severance, and her accrued pay in lieu of vacation and sick time would only last so long, and that would be a drastically reduced time if she had to rely on keeping a room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast.  She decided that she would give herself a week, two at the absolute most, to find somewhere in Storybrooke to put down roots and call her own. “Besides,” she added sheepishly, “I haven’t actually seen inside the library yet.  I don’t know if the stacks even exist.”

“Okay, now I know you’re insane,” Ruby said with a roll of her eyes that while playful, Belle knew held a serious note of concern for her born of their friendship through the last… Belle blinked. Had she really known Ruby for so long? “What was the name of that doctor of yours again?”

“Not funny.” Belle knew that Ruby was only teasing, but the comment hit a little too close to home. Ruby gave her an apologetic look.

“Call me when you get settled, yeah?” she said squeezing Belle’s arm. “And as soon as you’re fit for visitors you better bet your ass, I’m coming to crash your pad. You know that right?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Belle said and smiled at her friend.

Belle sighed as the passing countryside, growing increasingly more wooded and less like one endless highway, heralded their imminent arrival in Storybrooke. She found herself getting quietly excited, in a nervous kind of way, anticipating taking long walks through the surrounding woodlands.  As she gazed through the window at the passing scenery, she was surprised to see what looked like some kind of farm buildings tucked away in a cleared area among the trees. She hadn’t noticed it before, and wondered what other secrets Storybrook kept hidden away in its woods.

The bus slowed, taking a few bends in the road carefully, and then picked up speed again enough that the sign reading Welcome to Storybrooke flashed past like an almost subliminal, personal message.

All too soon, the forest gave way to scattered buildings, larger on the outskirts of the town, one or two almost mansion-like, and then to more closely populated neighborhood streets. Belle couldn’t help but wonder who lived where, and what each of the residents might like to read - should they come into the library of course.  The closer they got to the middle of town, the more people Belle spotted walking around, going about their day to day business. She thought they probably all knew one another, as was the way of things in small towns - or so most of the books she’d read had always led the reader to believe - but she, herself, had only ever lived in a densely populated city, where people kept themselves to themselves, and their own business private, and she’d only ever been able to be a part of anything approaching the slightest of connections with others - and thus feel at home - while working in the library.

The thought of the library made her turn her head to instinctively seek out the Town of Storybrooke Free Public Library, still boarded up and standing forlornly at the intersection of the two main streets running through the town.  It was the literal center of the town, it should have been the town’s heart.

Belle smiled, then.  If this was really happening, and not something that was ‘too good to be true’ then she’d soon see to it that the boards came off and she gave the town back its heartbeat.

The hiss of hydraulic brakes and the bus suddenly lurching to a stop pulled Belle from her daydreaming just as the overhead display, and the automatic voice announced the town’s name, and she got up from her seat, grabbing her coat, her backpack and her purse from the rack overhead.  As she stepped down from the interior of the bus and onto the sidewalk, the driver was just setting down her oversized suitcase onto the cracked concrete beside the pole that marked the stop. Belle reached into her pocket to pull out the few bills she had slipped in there to tip him.  He gave her a smile, nodded, and then climbed back aboard. The doors closed, and the bus pulled away as Belle shouldered her backpack and turned to gaze across the four way intersection of her new home.

She shivered then, wishing she’d thought to put on her coat before stepping out into the very fresh air, but even that couldn’t dampen the sense of excitement and adventure that was suddenly bubbling in her stomach. Turning, she grabbed the handle of the heavy suitcase, and began pulling it along toward the welcome lights of Granny’s diner.  She’d get herself settled first, before she went dashing madly to investigate her new library, even though that was all she wanted to do.

The patio was empty, which was hardly surprising given the quickly falling temperature of the early afternoon. She could see, however, that inside of the diner, Granny was doing a very brisk trade, and wondered whether she should have gone to the library after all. Still, she was there now, so she pulled open the door and struggled her way inside, trying to tug the heavy case up the steps.

“Belle!”

Granny’s voice made her stop mid struggle, in time to see the elderly woman cuff one of her patrons around the back of the head as though he were an errant son, and the man got up and came over to bring her case inside, and on Granny’s wordless nod, out through the rear of the diner, to where the steps to the bed and breakfast were accessible.  Granny came over to greet Belle properly, with a hug.

“You look half famished, girl,” she said.  “Let’s get something warm inside you. Leroy said you might be coming in the next day or so, so I got your old room ready for you.”

“Oh, Granny, thank you.  I didn’t expect you to go to such trouble.” Belle said.

“Ah, it’s no trouble,” Granny waved off the comment. “Not for our new librarian.” she smiled, and then as if suddenly remembering, added, “Which reminds me…”

From the pocket of her apron she pulled out a small black box of the kind in which a museum gift shop might package a necklace or other trinket, around which a piece of white ribbon had been somewhat artfully tied.

She handed it to Belle and said, “Someone… dropped this off for you at the front desk.”

Frowning in confusion, Belle set down her backpack beside the counter, pulled at the ribbon to unfasten the bow, and then opened up the box. Her face cracked into a huge grin.

Inside, lying on a thin layer of cotton placed in the bottom, was a single key, attached to a circular key chain, and on the circle, written in a neat and flowing script, was a single word: Library.

[onenightandgone]

How to Find Lost Things (4)

Genre: Angst, contains mature content Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Length: 3.5k Summary:  Being with him was the stuff dreams are made of. But why weren’t those your dreams? Chapters: (One)~(Two) ~(Three)

The train station bustled with the mid-afternoon rush. People dashed in front of you and behind you and around you, and your senses were overwhelmed. The noise of the footsteps, the constant loop of announcements over the PA system, and the high-pitched grind of the train brakes on the rails combined into a chaotic chorus that left you disoriented and confused.

You stood in front of the departures board, scanning the different destinations you could choose from, trying to ignore the ones you had already missed. It was difficult to focus with the crowd milling around you.

Where should you go?

You felt your phone buzz in your backpack, but you knew better than to look. Hoseok was the only one who ever texted you. Of course it was him. You couldn’t look back now, the decision had been made. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t hurt him more.

You defied any rationality and picked a random city with a later departure - enough time to buy your ticket and get where you needed to go. You took a deep breath and walked to the ticket window.

Finding where you were supposed to be was much more difficult than even picking a destination. Some of the lines connected with each other at different stations, and figuring out which was which was almost rocket science.

Your heart felt like it was beating in the back of your throat as you walked down to the right train tunnel. The music in your earphones meant nothing, just background noise to make you dizzy. Your pulse skyrocketed, your palms became damp.

There really was no going back after this.

You found a seat on the correct platform just in time, feeling your the muscles in your legs become gelatinous and finally give way. The reoccurring thought, the endless loop of film in your mind, it was all Hoseok. You had promised him, and then you had immediately broken it. How could anyone reconcile that?

You guessed at the hours remaining until he got home. Would he even get home tonight? There were some times where he was gone a lot longer than he had initially expected. Your thoughts struggled for rationality, for purchase, for some kind of organisation. You focused on a spot where several tiles on the floor had cracked in tiny veins, fighting with yourself.

The thought of Hoseok’s broken heart haunted you, but was it really inevitable? Why did you always feel powerless? Were you ever strong?

The hours passed in this cycle of self-punishment, reasoning yourself into believing your excuses for leaving, a cruel circle. Your train had long since come and departed without you when a voice shook you out of your head.

‘Excuse me,’ it said.

You looked to see a squat, middle-aged security guard, his keys jingling from his belt as he shifted his stance.

‘Excuse me,’ he repeated. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah,’ was your first, thoughtless response. You shook your head to clear the cobwebs. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just waiting for someone.’

‘If you say so. The last train left a while ago, you know,’ he said.

Had you really been here that long? You glanced at the timeboard in alarm. It was almost nine - at night. Your stomach rumbled obviously, and your hands shook as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders. Your legs threatened to give out again as you walked out of the station, but you were determined now. But were you too late?

You were hungry, sure. But you wanted Hoseok more. The thought, admitting that you felt even a little for him, it flooded your systems with relief. Maybe you could make progress.

Maybe you could make it home before Hoseok. You speedwalked, almost running, the whole way home. But your heart fell as you saw the living room light through the front window. You were too late. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You stood in the shadow of the dusk, watching him pace the living room irritably. One of his groupmates sat on the edge of your tiny couch, looking at Hoseok with worry. Hoseok turned, raking his fingers through his hair.

You swallowed and walked up to the door. Your hand froze on the handle. Of course it was locked, he wasn’t crazy. But there went your surprise entry. He would know it was you. He would know you had tried to leave.

Of course he already knew.

You could feel the tension through the door as you did your best to silently slip your key into the lock. Your fingers fumbled with one of your keychains, knocking the tiny silver heart against the door frame. You heard the voices inside go quiet. The only sound was the pounding of your heart as you turned the key and stepped inside.

Hoseok’s eyes peered around the hallway corner. They glistened through the dim lighting, and Hoseok’s staggered breathing tore through the still air.

You took your time. Setting down your bag, slipping out of your shoes, all at a snail’s pace. He waited patiently, stepping around to watch you fully. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, stiff and motionless.

You knew. You knew you were in for it. You could practically hear his voice, distorted with anger, and by all means, you deserved it. You had tried to break your promise to stay, as if his heart meant nothing to you. You had betrayed his trust in one of the worst ways. The way you did didn’t even matter, it was the fact that you did it at all.

You braced for it, the hot tears starting purely from how ashamed you were of yourself. Wordlessly you had begun to tear yourself down, your intentions toward yourself lacking all the kindnesses they might have otherwise had. But that was okay. You weren’t someone that deserved kindness. You could only stare at the floor, all pride and pretense fallen by the wayside, unable to meet his eyes.

But before you could even consider how to apologize, to ask him how you could make it up to him, if at all, Hoseok crossed the distance between you and swung his arms around you, crushing you to his torso. He spared no air for your lungs or thought for your ribs, there was only you and the thought of how close he had come to losing you for good.

Your arms were pinned between your ribs and his chest, your breaths shallow and struggling, but it didn’t matter much. You were home, and it didn’t have anything to do with the building or your things or furniture. You closed your eyes and let yourself be crushed, refusing to struggle or complain.

Hoseok combed his fingers through your hair, his lips against your forehead.

‘I was so worried you weren’t coming back,’ he whispered. His fear was evident in his hold, his desperate clinging, his fingers digging into your back. His breath was shaky, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all you manage in return, your voice muffled in his shirt.

He stayed around you this way for way few moments longer, only releasing you when Hyunwoo appeared from around the corner.

‘All good then?’ he said, looking past you to Hoseok.

Hoseok, still with his arm around you in his incessant need to be in contact with you, nodded, sniffing loudly.

‘You guys should talk,’ said Hyunwoo, making purposeful eye contact with you as he passed you.

Hoseok squeezed your side in affirmation, the curve of his chest resting against your shoulder.

Hyunwoo slipped on his jacket, turning to face you.

‘I’m glad you didn’t leave,’ he said finally, one final nod at Hoseok behind you before heading out, closing the door gently behind himself.

You were still frozen in the thought, staring at the closed door, when you felt your fingers being separated by Hoseok’s. He pulled you forward, leading you away from the door, just in case you changed your mind again.

You followed him without resisting. His shoulders, normally wide and proud, seemed now to sink beneath a terrible weight, and you didn’t have to wonder what it was. You reached a trembling hand to rest between them, hoping maybe to lend him some courage, to put strength back where it should be.

Hoseok peered back over at you, giving you a sad smile. Maybe you should have been encouraged, but it felt like your heart weighed even more. It felt like it was a struggle just to keep breathing, to keep the blood flowing through your veins.

He led you into the bedroom, turning to face you as you stood in front of the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

You waited, but there was no anger, no rage, nothing like what you deserved. You braced for the storm, but Hoseok didn't move or speak, stuck in the thick mire of his own thoughts.

It was on you.

A strange sense of boldness came over you, and you reached to cup his cheek into your palm. He fit perfectly, like he always had, his eyes shutting peacefully at your touch. You turned him and climbed backwards onto the covers, pulling him with you. There was no need, as Hoseok followed willingly, keeping your warmth on his skin.

You propped your back against the pillows and the headboard, motioning him closer. Hoseok hovered over you at first, starting sadly into your eyes, as if he doubted your sincerity. The look was no longer a blow, but an expectation. You deserved to be doubted, you couldn't be trusted.

The apologies flooded your throat, but couldn't tear through the heavy blanket of silence that had fallen over both of you. You hoped that your torn expression would be enough for now as you looked up at him.

Hoseok leaned down, resting an arm on either side of you. He came close, his eyes flickering down to your mouth. You nodded your consent wordlessly, but he still didn't kiss you. Hoseok studied you, and for once, you couldn't read what was going on in his mind.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't mean it, you didn't mean to leave. That you realized you had been making a mistake.

Then he reached for you, the pads of his fingers gently running the ridge of your jaw, down your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone over your shirt in a lazy fascination. Hoseok blinked slowly, his breathing loud and ragged.

'You,’ he said quietly. 'You came back.’

Your heart picked up the pace with the panic and shame. You swallowed before speaking.

'I shouldn't have even left. I panicked and I freaked out and I don't know even know why,’ your voice strained over the words, pleading with yourself for calm.

He idly traced the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

Your instinct begged for you to touch him, to feel every part of him, but your conscience told you that you didn't have the right. His shoulders curved gracefully in front of your eyes, and you reached halfway before losing heart, your hands shaking in midair.

‘Hoseok,’ your voice cracked. ‘I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.’

Hoseok said nothing at first. He sat back, taking your outstretched hand and placing it on his chest. He covered it with his, keeping it prisoner there.

“Don't be afraid of me,’ he said. He sniffled. “That - that's worse than anything else you could do to me.’

He leaned forward again, this time not hesitating to kiss your forehead, your palm still planted over his heart.

He didn't say, “that's okay,” or, “I forgive you.” But really, you didn't expect him to forgive you at all.

He looked down at you, his eyes rounded and swimming with tears, his bottom lip trembling. The damage you caused with your recklessness. His fingers between yours squeezed tightly as his pain took him into dark places.

You sat forward, your own tears starting to burn as you held his head between your hands.

Hoseok nearly collapsed into your touch, overwhelmed and exhausted, crashing into you with all dignity forgotten, all pretense lost. His lips covered yours with a sad hunger, as if it were a fruitless endeavour.

You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, drawing him down to you.

He paused to take in a breath, his wet eyelashes brushing against your cheek.

“I…” his voice faded as he struggled to speak. “I can't believe I almost lost you.”

“You won't,” you choked out through the knot in your throat. “You won't ever lose me.”

Hoseok kissed you again, pressing against you fervently. His lips tasted of nothing but salt, his pressure drawing the air from your lungs. You would give it all to him if he asked.

He rose up to his knees, his eyes never leaving your face. You watched him as he slowly peeled the shirt from his torso, opening your arms to him as he fell forward into you.

His kiss lasted a few moments longer, and he sighed in relief as your palms slid against his bare skin, as if the surface was a fire that only you could put out. He sunk down as he kissed you, his arm slung around your lower back, tracing the bare skin he found there.

You captured him and held him steady at your center, playing lightly in the short hair at the back of his neck as you returned his affection. This time willingly and present. You were sure that it was your lips against his, your skin that the waves of his breath skated down. He was Hoseok and he was here, all yours along with all the damage you had created. The heart you had so rashly broken.

His back curved into your palm, his skin smooth and cool to the touch.

Finally Hoseok retreated, his eyes boring into yours.

You followed the tired lines under his eyes with your fingertips, Hoseok falling rapture to your simple affection, his eyelids falling shut.

“You should rest,” you whispered.

He shook his head.

“I can't sleep,” he said. He leaned his head into your hand. “Not unless I know you'll be here when I wake up.”

You reached up to lay a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I'll be here,” you said, certain of yourself now. “I'll always be here.”

Hoseok opened his eyes, regarding you doubtfully. He sniffled, his tears starting to ease.

“I know that I fucked up, that I hurt you-”

Hoseok shushed you with a finger on your lips.

“I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm tired of thinking about it.”

He sank further down, wrapping his remaining arm around you. He lined your throat with a tender trail of featherlight kisses, settling between your legs, resting his head on your chest. His eyes fluttered closed as you stroked long circles down his back, fingers playing in his hair.

Your thoughts buzzed as you held him, the long lines of his back spread out, bared in front of you.

He was being too kind again. It worried you. Why wasn't he angry? If only he would yell or curse or something, anything to break the tension you felt deep inside yourself. Maybe you didn't understand everything about him. After all these years together, was there still more you didn't know about him? After all, you had never tested his boundaries quite like this. You had never tried to break free of yourself before.

You reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, Hoseok's arms tightening as you shifted beneath him.

Maybe the threat of breaking had helped you find a new perspective. You still felt the lack of emotion, pure apathy lurking beneath the surface, waiting to swallow you whole. Would it always be a constant battle with yourself? Would you always have to fight yourself to be good enough for him?

The questions swirled in your head until you were dizzy. But still you held him, sleeping in your arms while the night ticked on around you, your own mind plagued by your worries.

You might not know yourself the way you wanted to, or know why every emotion was a struggle, but you did know what you wanted to be. Safety for Hoseok, a shelter he could turn to anytime things might get difficult for him. But how could you transform yourself from a rock on the ground that he might trip on, annoying and problematic, to someplace he might think of as home? You saw where you needed to be, what you needed to be, but you didn't know how to get there.

Hoseok stirred, bracing himself on one arm long enough to peel himself off you and fall to the side. You distinctly felt the lack of him, missed the weight of him, and you looked down at him regretfully.

Without opening his eyes, Hoseok took your wrist and pulled you down with him. His arms snaked around you, his flat palm finding the small of your back. Gently, he gathered you against his front, tucking you into his chest. His lips pressed warmly against your forehead.

“Sleep,” he whispered, his breath rustling in your hair.

His heart beat steadily against your ear, and for a moment, you thought you might be able to. The gentle rhythm was lulling and familiar, but everything else, all the self blame and mental gymnastics pinned your consciousness in place, ripping sleep from your grasp.

You wiggled yourself closer, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing would work.

Still the late hours wore on, you felt frozen in time and space, as the world kept moving on without you. You stared blankly off into the darkness of your bedroom.

A few moments later, Hoseok sighed.

“What's wrong?” His words barely had any volume, but shattered the thick silence that had fallen.

“Why aren't you mad?” you heard yourself say, the words spilling out thoughtlessly.

Hoseok didn't answer. His hand ran up your back, finding a better angle to hold you even more tightly.

In the dark, you felt him carefully guide your face up to his. You felt his lips brush yours, but he didn't crash down like you guessed he would.

“Tonight I really thought I had lost you,” he said. “I came home, and you were gone, your stuff was gone. It felt like I had lost... everything.” He pressed a tiny kiss of punctuation. “But you came back, you're here now.”

“But I fucked up so badly.”

“Don't, ok? Just don't. I just want to forget. Just for tonight.”

“Ok.” Your voice was a tiny murmur, far away from where you felt you were.

His arms didn't lose their pressure on your frame, even as he renewed his efforts to kiss you. It was messy in the dark and the exhaustion that tugged at both of you, his lips slipping or missing their target, but none of that reduced its significance.

The rest of you began to enjoy this attention, but a tiny voice raised its fist in rebellion in the back of your mind.

Would this be his solution to all your problems, then? Just to kiss you until you lost yourselves in the intimacy, forgetting what your real problems were? To ignore something long enough until it goes away?

It was there, bare and exposed as if in broad daylight, but you didn't want to look at it either. Maybe he was right too.

You tucked into him with a renewed focus, spreading your hands over his chest. His pressure increased in response, his hand on your back slipping beneath your shirt.

At the flick of your tongue on his bottom lip, Hoseok surged forward, pushing you onto your back. His fingertips played in the waistband of your pants, wanting nothing more than to ease beneath all of your layers.

Your mind raced with your pulse. Did you want this? Did he even want this, or were you both just doing it out of habit?

Hoseok retreated to breathe, his pulse elevated under your touch. You felt him staring down, the questions in his eyes evident, even in the darkness. Had he felt your hesitation?

“You should sleep,” he said in a whisper, his voice low and breathless. His thumb gently traced your chin.

He sat up, propping himself on an arm at your side.

“Yeah.” You rolled onto your side, curling into a ball and facing away from him. “Yeah, you're right.” You closed your eyes and feigned falling asleep.

Hoseok sighed loudly, falling down onto mattress behind you in a heavy heap. Without a second thought, his arms wove their way around your middle, untangling the knot you had made of yourself. He curled around your back, tucking you against himself. He swung his leg on top of yours, his heavy thigh keeping you in place.

You felt his nose poke against your neck as his breathing eased and shallowed.

And now you were here once more, staring at the window as Hoseok held you. He was right behind you, tangled around you in a mess of limbs. His chest rose and fell against your shoulder in the most familiar of patterns.

He was close, but now, he felt even farther away from you. For entirely different reasons.

[petra-arkanian-1497]

Led Zeppelin and Cody, Wyoming

So, this is my small contribution to the awesomeness that is @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba. She’s got 500 followers and THIS IS EPIC!

*me racing for a challenge on her list*

Ahem, anyway, back to what I was saying. 

Prompt: 12)  “Look at all the pretties!” “Can you please stop talking about rifles like they’re puppies.”

Pairing: none

Warnings: none, except maybe vague wistfulness (not even language--I’ve never done this before so I’m taking it slow; please don’t kill me with the feedback.)

Word count: 1400-ish

A/N: The Buffalo Bill Center of the West does exist, go check it out! It’s cool.

The music/lyrics are not mine and all credit goes to the writers, producers and artists who created it. Because they’re amazing. Same for the GIFs.

The Bunker was silent, for the first time in several hours. Y/N was exhausted, but she finally got the last of the dishes put away. She hated kitchen duty, with a passion, but her luck had abandoned her in the inevitable rock/paper/scissors game.

Of course, Sam had laughed after he won against both her and Dean, as usual, “I’m really sorry, Y/N. If you want some help--”

“Just get out of here, Moose. Leave me to my torture.”

Dean, in true Dean fashion, had all but run out of the kitchen as soon as he won against her, grabbing three beers from the icebox as he’d gone and almost tripping over a chair in the process. He’d let out a low howl as he went, and it took all Y/N’s control not to yell a few expletives after him. Sam had been chuckling, leaning against the table with his arms and ankles crossed.

Y/N shot him an irate glare, “Get out, Sam. Otherwise you’re gonna end up covered in soapy water.” Given that the sink was now full of the stuff, and it wouldn’t have been the first time, Sam held up his hands and bowed his way out, wandering in the direction of the Library.

She really didn’t mind cleaning; it was cathartic in a weird way. She just preferred anything that didn’t make her hands pruny.

While she had the water on, she decided to wipe everything down since she was in the groove, including the floor and cabinets. Half an hour into her self-imposed punishment, she heard Motörhead blaring from the direction of Dean’s room. She shook her head, a smile forming unbidden on her face. She hummed along to “The Roadcrew”, thinking that it was a remarkably good description of the hunting life.

Sam and Dean had picked her up after her mother had been killed by a demon, and she’d travelled with them ever since. She’d been on hundreds of run-of-the-mill hunts, and hundreds more that were anything but normal. She’d been there when Dean had died, dragged down by a hellhound. She’d been there when he’d come back, raised by Castiel. She’d been there when Sam recovered his soul, and when Crowley had almost been human, when Dean had carried the Mark of Cain and become a demon. She had seen so much, stayed in so many crappy motels, driven so many thousands of miles. She wasn’t that old, but she felt ancient in that moment.

Y/N continued to clean to hard rock, courtesy of Dean Winchester, until he fell asleep in the middle of Physical Graffiti, because she KNEW he disliked Down By The Seaside and always skipped it when he played that album. She, however, didn’t mind it, so she let the words flow over her,

Out in the country

Hear the people singin'

Singin' 'bout their progress

Knowin' where they're goin'

That song never failed to arouse a vague sense of loss in her. She wondered for what seemed the thousandth time if she would ever live a ‘normal’ life, a life without hunting and running and rescuing the entire world every few months. Not that she minded being a savior, but it was hard, because no one knew or cared. She’d watched so many of her friends die, and been unable to help them... But that way lay madness, and she couldn’t afford to go crazy and shut down now. Not with the Darkness on the loose.

As she dragged herself down to her own room, she heard the crackling of a record turning without a needle, so she slipped into Dean’s room as she passed. Sure enough, the familiar art of Led Zeppelin was lying on the table next to the gramophone, so she switched off the machine and replaced the vinyl in its cover. It was hard on records to be stored horizontally, and this WAS Dean’s favorite album.

She pulled the blanket over his shoulder as she left, closing the door softly behind her. Padding down the hallway, she saw a light on in Sam’s room, so she cautiously pushed the door open a bit wider. He had his computer in his lap, long legs stretched out on his bed. He looked up and half-smiled as he saw her, “Get your torture session over with?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I did. Did you find something worth chasing?”

He gestured to the laptop, spinning it so she could see the screen. Her eyes flickered back and forth as she read the police report, then darted up to meet Sam’s as her brow furrowed, “Werewolves? But I didn’t think there were any this close!”

He nodded and closed the computer, carefully placing it on the stand beside him. “I didn’t think so, either, but this needs to be taken care of. Can you--”

“Yeah, I’ll have some food and my bag packed in the morning. Don’t worry about it. However,” she added, turning at the door to look back at him, “you may need to wake me up. I’m beat. And don’t let Dean do it. I might kill him if he decides to overturn my bed again.”

Sam bit back a grin, “I will. Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Sam.”

Y/N yawned as she propped her head on her hand in the backseat of the Impala. The rumble of the engine lulled her as it always did, and she struggled not to fall asleep. They’d be back at the Bunker in half an hour. The hunt had gone off without a hitch, for once, and she was looking forward to sleeping in her bed, not a motel. Glancing out the window, her eyes widened and she suddenly screamed, “STOP, STOP, STOP, I NEED OUT!”

Dean slammed on the brakes, but she was already braced against Sam’s headrest, so she didn’t notice. She scrambled out of the car, jogging back the way they’d come. Sam and Dean parked, then came running after her. They slowed when they noticed the sign over the door she’d entered: “Pawn shop--we take guns, gold, and power tools.”

The brothers looked at each other, then rolled their eyes. Y/N was a sucker for weapons, especially guns. More than once, she’d almost cost them a hunt by taking a quick trip into a pawn shop like this one. Once, in Cody, Wyoming, she’d made them spend an entire day going through the gun museum in the Buffalo Bill Center of the West tourist trap. Granted, neither of them had minded, because the place had been mindblowing in its own way, but they had no intention of ever telling her that.

When the boys finally gave up waiting outside and entered, they found Y/N leaning on a glass case, a sparkle in her Y/E/C eyes as she traced the lines on a nine mm handgun, then moved down to a snub-nosed revolver. The proprietor of the shop was helping someone else, and as Dean looked back over at her, Y/N moved over to the rack of longer weapons. She trailed her hand over the stocks, glancing at him over her shoulder, “Look at all the pretties!”

“Can you please stop talking about rifles like they’re puppies? For once in your life?”

She grinned and shook her head. “You know full well I know more about guns than you do, Dean Winchester, and it rankles you, but you also love me for it.”

Dean tried to keep up the glare, arms crossed over his chest, but the infectious smile on her face broke him, and he chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

Sam tapped him on the shoulder, then whispered in his ear, “Don’t tell her, because we’d never drag her out of here otherwise, but there’s a buy one, get one 75% off sale on any firearm.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he turned to mutter in a low voice, “Hell, forget about her, I’M gonna need somebody to drag me out of here. Did you see that Ruger?”

As his brother ambled off to examine a pistol, Sam Winchester shook his head, raking his hair out of his eyes as he watched Y/N gesticulating wildly at the shop owner about one of the shotguns on the wall. Trying to talk the price down, if he knew her at all. A rueful smile forming on his face, he walked over to save the man.

[august-grey]

i don't need your closure | chapter 13

read on ao3

masterpost

July 1986

This was it. This was how Alice was going to die. Not at the hands of evil Russians miles below a shopping mall or torn to shreds by one of the multitude of monsters that plagued her little town. No, she was going to go out in the passenger seat of he mother’s Volvo, knuckles white around the handle on the door, foot punched down the invisible brake pedal. 

Fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, Alice contemplated the choices that led her to this moment. How had she gone from taking Dustin to an orthodontist appointment to fearing for her mortal wellbeing in a mostly empty strip-mall parking lot with her 15-year-old brother behind the wheel of their mother’s car? 

Alice looked over at the boy in question, his eyes wide and laser-focused on the pavement, and reminded herself why she was doing this. 

“So, I’m taking driver’s ed next year.” Dustin piped up from the passenger seat, his lisp a little more pronounced after getting his braces tightened.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin gave a grunt of affirmation. “Mr. Paulson still teaching that?”

“Uh-huh, I heard he’s brutal.” Alice nodded emphatically. That was putting it lightly. Dustin continued, “Lots of kids…they’re getting practice over the summer…just to get a head start, y’know? Mike’s and Lucas’ dads have taken them out a bunch. Mike’s even been on a real road already.”

“That’s not a bad idea, extra practice would definitely help. Paulson flunked me twice before I finally got my license. Just never really got a chance to practice after dad left and everything. Has mom taken…” She trailed off, a sudden realization dawning on her. No. Of course mom hadn’t had the time to take Dustin out to drive. Their mother barely had time to take care of herself let alone teach her anxious children to maneuver a vehicle.

Not for the first time, Alice found herself cursing her father. Don’t get her wrong, Alice was glad that her parents were divorced. Michael was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve anything her mother had to offer. She’d always known that her mother was too good for that sorry excuse of a human. Alice just wished he had found a scrap of humanity before abandoning his family, leaving them with nothing but a forwarding address and a promise to see his children at Christmas.

Alice hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when Christmas came and went without even a phone call, but Dustin…Dustin had been heartbroken. For months afterward he waited for their father to simply return. To change his mind, realize that he had made a mistake and come home to his family. The brief phone calls from Michael yielded empty promises of going for ice cream or baseball games, leaving Dustin disappointed again and again as plans fell through. 

Anger festered inside Alice, finally bubbling over one day as she sat with her little brother as he watched the sky darken out their front window, waiting for their father’s car to pull into the driveway for a belated birthday visit. Dustin’s thirteenth birthday had been three weeks prior, and the bastard still couldn’t be bothered to even give his son this small gift.

Down the hall, Alice heard her mother leave yet another message for her ex-husband. He wasn’t coming, Alice had a feeling from the beginning. Knowing this didn’t make the situation any easier. A small shake of their mother’s head when she returned to the living room was all it took for Dustin’s resolve to crumple. Running into his mother’s arms, he buried his face into her chest, shoulders heaving with silent sobs. 

Alice needed to hit something. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t going to let her father get away with hurting her brother like that. Not again. While the rest of her family was distracted, Alice smuggled her mom’s car keys out of her purse and drove the three hours to their father’s new bachelor pad, stopping only to grab a birthday card from a random drug store. 

Michael could only stare at his daughter, open-mouthed, as she shoved the card into his hands, demanding he sign it for Dustin. He did so, hastily shoving a few twenties in the envelope for good measure. Then he had the gall to ask Alice how she was doing. Ignoring his question completely, Alice simply told her father to either make a real effort to have a relationship with his son or to leave them the hell alone. 

She couldn’t remember the half-excuse he had spluttered out as she left him in the doorway, but she did remember crying the entire ride home. She remembered the look on Dustin’s face as she pressed the card into his hands and being grounded for a week for disappearing with her mother’s car for seven hours on a school night. She remembered being the one to step up in her father’s place. Taking Dustin to school and to extracurriculars, helping her mother with home repairs, picking up extra chores around the house. 

And now, she supposed, she was going to have to teach her father’s youngest how to drive.

***

“Okay, now slowly—“ Dustin slammed the brakes at the edge of the lot, jolting Alice forward in her seat. She took a calming breath before gently correcting him as he turned the wheel, taking the car down the row of shopfronts. “Try to ease into the stops, Dusty. Gently press the brake as you’re coming up to the—oh Jesus.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He exclaimed, shifting the direction of the car after coming a little too close to the curb. “This is awful, how do you do this every day without feeling like you’re going do murder someone with this death-machine?”

“You just have to…I don’t know…give it time and you kinda become one with the death-machine?” Her brother shot her a quick, bewildered glance. “Does that make sense? It gets easier with practice, I promise. Just…try to relax.”

“That’s not going to happen.” He groaned miserably, braking a little too hard again in the back corner of the lot. Fumbling around the console in a panic, he flipped on the turn signal, then the windshield wipers. “At this rate I’ll never be comfortable behind the wheel and I’ll never get my license and...and— Alice, how do I put this stupid thing in park?!”

“Calm down, you’re fine.” She reached over, moving the shifter into park and turning off the ignition. As soon as he was able to release the brake, Dustin threw himself from the Volvo. Alice rolled her eyes at his dramatics and exited the vehicle herself. “You’re not going to be amazing right away, Dustin. It’s going to take time. We’ll go out more once I get my car back and you’ll be a pro by the end of the summer. Paulson won’t know what hit him.”

Dustin didn’t look convinced. He leaned against the hood of the yellow Volvo and buried his face in his hands. Alice felt a little out of her depth; she was usually the one freaking out in every situation. Her brother was normally overly confident in nearly everything he did. He’d thrown himself into countless dangerous situations without a second thought; seeing him freak out over driving of all things was disconcerting to say the least. 

“Are you hungry? We can stop for burgers or something?” Food. If there was anything that could distract Alice from an anxiety spiral, it was a good, greasy meal. Surely that would work on her brother, too.

He shook his head glumly, looking forlornly across the parking lot. “Nah, my mouth is still sore from the orthodontist.”

Alice sighed. She didn’t like it, but she had one last idea that could bring up his mood, even just for the moment. 

“You wanna stop in RadioShack before heading home?” That got his attention. Shooting Alice a Cheshire grin, Dustin took off across the pavement toward the electronics store.

She trailed behind him, shouting, “You have twenty minutes! Any longer and you’re walking home!”

***

RadioShack had been a mistake. Sweat dripped down her neck as Alice glanced down at her watch; Dustin had been in the shop for nearly 45 minutes and she was slowly losing her mind. By the time she popped into the shop, Dustin had already been neck deep in whatever gadget he needed for his project of the week. 

Deciding she didn’t want to get roped into a one-sided conversation she couldn’t keep up with (she wasn’t feeling that generous), Alice picked up a small pack of batteries for her Walkman and left her brother muttering to himself over a display of tiny voice recorders. 

Five minutes. She’d give Dustin five more minutes and then she’d go in there and physically drag him out if she needed to. The midday sun emerged from behind a cloud, shining through the windshield and effectively blinding Alice. Make that two minutes.

“Alice?” Jumping at the sound of her name, Alice scanned the parking lot for a familiar face. The lot had become considerably more full than it was during Dustin’s impromptu driving lesson, but it didn’t take long to find the source of the voice before they flung themselves halfway through Alice’s open window, obscuring her vision with a mop of messy brown hair.

“Jesus, Robin, back up would ya?” Alice grasped her assailant by the shoulders and gently shoved her out of her personal bubble. Robin dropped to a crouch next to the car, so she was level with the open window, eyes wide and panicked.

“Thank god you’re here. Wait…why are you here? Y’know what nevermind, I’m in a crisis and I need you to talk me down.” 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Reaching for the handle of door, Alice gave the seemingly innocuous plaza a once over, searching for anything out of the ordinary or potentially dangerous. Robin rested a hand on her arm, drawing Alice’s attention back to her.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Robin took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak again, and…stopped. Alice furrowed her brow and waited for the girl to speak. After a few long moments of silence, Alice gestured impatiently for Robin to continue. 

“I’ve been invited to a party.” She finally blurted out, expectantly looking to Alice for advice. 

“Okay.”

“By a girl.”

“Okay?”

“A specific girl.”

“…okay?”

“…a specific redheaded clarinetist with incredible taste in movies.”

“Oh! Oh my god, okay! When did this happen?”

“Just now, in the Rite-Aid tampon isle.” Robin stated miserably, popping up from her position by the door to pace the pavement. “So you see my problem, now!”

“Uh no, am I missing something?” Taking her chances with the angry July sun, Alice exited the blessed cover of the car as she watched her friend frantically pace the length of the adjacent parking space. “You like Vickie. This is good news, Robin!”

“No, Alice, this is an absolute nightmare!”  Robin stopped to run both of her hands through her hair, making her bangs stick up in perfectly odd angles to add to the slightly manic aura she was giving off. “Before this moment, Vickie had been purely a hypothetical. I could daydream all I want, but now, now…this is real life. She asked me to a party. And what’s going to happen, huh? I’m going to make a fool of myself and word vomit all over her and she’ll be horrified and I’ll be arrested for…for something. I’m sure I’ll deserve it at that point.”

Alice shook her head in disbelief. What was up with everyone today? First Dustin with his driving lesson, now Robin was having a complete meltdown on her watch. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, seeing as both Robin and Dusin had dealt with their fair share of Alice’s neuroticism. The least she could do was return the favor.

“Well, we can’t let that happen, can we? You’re not cut out for prison, no offence.” Alice stepped forward, reaching up to smooth Robin’s hair back to its normal state of messiness. Once she was satisfied, Alice settled her hands on the taller girl’s shoulders. “You just need backup, a wingman. We can make it a group thing. You, me, and Vickie.”

“That’s not a group, that’s you getting drunk and awkwardly chaperoning me like some sort of messed up, regency-era courting ritual, all while I desperately try not to make a fool of myself in front of a cute girl.” Robin mumbled through pursed lips. Though Robin wasn’t wrong, Alice didn’t exactly enjoy being reduced to nothing more than a bumbling overseer. As much as she wanted to help Robin, third-wheeling all night wasn’t necessarily Alice’s idea of a good time. 

She had an idea; whether it was a good one or not was the nagging question in the back of her mind. Briefly, Alice considered the last disastrous party she’s attended in Hawkins. It had been the precursor to what was possibly the worst night of her life, if you don’t take all of the the literal horrors and death she’d experienced over the past few years into account.

The night she was sure she’d lost her best friend. For good.

It’s different now, she reasoned with herself. She and Steve were on good terms; well on their way to friendship again. And though she didn’t yet have the full story of what had happened that night…or what had led to it, Alice could at least hope it wouldn’t happen again. There was only one way to find out, she supposed.

“I can, uh, askstevetogo.” Alice mumbled, half-heartedly tossing out the thought before she could stop herself. It wasn’t as if she was looking for an excuse to see him or anything, it just made sense. They are all friends. Friends go to parties together. As friends. “Then it’ll be a real group. Make things less weird, y’know?”

Robin’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she shimmied out of Alice’s grip. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just say something like that and not elaborate. Did you and Steve make up?”

“Kinda? We’re…talking. It’s not a big deal.”  Robin seemed unimpressed, to say the least. Alice knew the girl wasn’t going to let her get away with that bullshit answer, and with a sigh, launched into an abridged version of what had happened with Sudsy. How she and Steve had ended up babysitting together, how Alice had emotionally blown up and confronted him, and then the subsequent, tentative makeup.

Obviously, making up with Steve was, in fact, a big deal to Alice. The past week had been the happiest she’d felt in months, and as much as she hated to admit it, that had a lot to do with Steve Harrington. True to his word, Steve hadn’t pressured Alice into anything since their conversation the previous weekend. To no one’s surprise, especially Alice’s, it took less than a day before she found herself eager to see him again. 

So, after harassing Dustin for Steve’s new phone number, she called him. He sounded pleased, but genuinely surprised to hear from her so soon. The palpable fondness in his voice combined with the itch to be within arms reach of him again, was how she found herself inviting Steve to take a walk with her. 

For safety purposes, of course. 

You see, Alice had a new client. A big, goofy Great Dane, who needed to be walked while her human worked overnights. Normally Alice wouldn’t think twice before declining the job; she and the dark didn’t really get along after everything she had been through. But this particular client had offered double her regular fee just to feed the dog dinner and take her on a quick walk before bed.

Alice couldn’t refuse the easy money, but that still left the problem of having to be outside. In the dark. Alone. She sucked it up the first night, walked the half-mile to the clients house, took the pup around the block while her nerves spiked, and finally ended up sprinting home after making sure the dog was safely in bed, the plan to call Steve already on her mind.  

As she predicted, he eagerly agreed to accompany her the next night. And then the next, and the next…until they fell into an easy, somewhat familiar, routine. Steve would pick her up at 8:30 on the dot, they’d take care of the dog, and then just sit and talk until Steve had to get himself to bed for work the next day. Sometimes Dustin would join them, if he wasn’t off galavanting with his Dungeons and Dragons club or messing with machines in his bedroom. But, mostly, it was just the two of them.

He followed her lead at every turn. Never pushing for anything more than what Alice was comfortable with giving, keeping a respectable distance. Alice, on the other hand, was having an incredibly hard time sticking to her own boundaries. Despite her reservations, Alice physically couldn’t keep herself away from Steve. It was like that night babysitting Holly had broke open a dam in Alice’s brain. 

Steve Harrington loved her. 

Just the thought alone was hard for Alice to wrap her mind around. Truthfully, she was scared. Hell, Alice was terrified. And still justifiably angry on top of it all. Months of convincing herself to turn her hurt into hate couldn’t be washed away so easily. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that Steve was truly repentant and wanted to make things right with her, Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that although everything between them was going well now didn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t go to shit just as quickly. 

But in spite of it all, it was just so easy to fall back into an familiar rapor with her former best friend. It was a more than little unnerving how effortlessly Steve had fit back into her life and, even moreso, how badly she wanted him to stay there.

***

“So, yeah. We’re talking. That’s it.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Steve’s in love with you.”

“Apparently.”

“You’re in love with Steve?”

“I…yeah. I guess am.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Shit, Alice.”

Alice couldn’t agree more; shit.

***

Alice’s mother dropped her off at Robin’s house a full two hours early, at the younger girl’s request. Well…it sounded more like a panicked demand over the phone than a polite request, but Alice was willing to overlook that tiny detail. Either way, she was grateful for an excuse after Claudia had offered to drive the girls to the party itself. As much as she loved and appreciated her mom, that simply wouldn’t do.

“No, seriously, it’s okay, Mom!” Alice attempted to dissuade her mother. “It’s only a ten minute walk from Robin’s. You don’t want to drive all the way back out here in just to drive us less than a mile up the road.”

Reluctantly, Claudia agreed that the girls could take care of themselves, and left Alice and her overnight bag at Robin’s. She waited until her daughter was safely inside before waving and backing out of the driveway. 

In the time it took for Alice to arrive, Robin’s bedroom had descended into absolute chaos. Ninety percent of the time they had before the party was spent digging through the chaos that was Robin’s wardrobe, piecing together the perfectly casual, but not too casual because “then what if Vickie thinks I’m a slob! Don’t give me that look, you’re just as much a mess as I am,” outfit.

The other ten percent was taken up by relentless, teasing back-and-forth from both girls. It had started off with Alice clearly having the upperhand; gently mocking her friend as she tried on article after article of clothing. Alice was quite enjoying herself. That is, until it came time to talk to Steve about the party.

 In the end, it had been Robin who had called to recruit Steve as a secondary wingman and a ride home. It was stupid. The phone had been in Alice’s hand, she had dialed his number. His new number. The one for his fancy, independent, adult apartment. The first ring in her ear sent her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding, resulting in the phone being flung into a bewildered Robin’s hands.

Cooly recovering from Alice’s sudden panic, Robin had managed to convince Steve to meet them at the party. Alice hovered over her shoulder, ears straining to hear the other side of the conversation and chewing her pinky nail down to the nub. 

What was wrong with her? Alice chastised herself. She’d spoken to Steve on the phone quite literally hundreds of times. At least thrice that week alone. 

Inviting him to a party, though, somehow felt too much like she was back in middle school asking Matthew Miller to the Snowball, only to spend the night sulking on the bleachers after being stood up.

So, in true middle school fashion, it only made sense that she make her friend ask Steve, instead. Not that she thought Steve would stand her up. Because it wasn’t like this was a date or anything. This was merely a group outing with a couple of pals.

She’d never hear the end of it from Robin. 

***

The party itself was a docile thing, despite being packed with a couple dozen band nerds. The music was decent and the drinks were surprisingly good for a questionable concoction thrown together by a teenager. 

Robin zeroed in on Vickie the second they stepped through the door. When the redhead greeted both girls with a hug, Alice was impressed by how quickly Robin recovered from the close contact. 

As the night went on, much to Alice’s delight, it seemed that Robin’s initial apprehensions about the party were proving to be completely unnecessary. And though she was having a good time and was always glad to spend time with Robin, it really seemed like Alice’s presence was barely needed. 

It may have been the effervescent lighting on the dance floor or maybe the faint buzz of alcohol in her system, but Alice could swear Robin practically radiating confidence as she danced with the girls she had been pining over for months. Ever the dutiful friend, Alice swayed to the music with them, overthinking about what the correct amount of respectable distance would be. Not so close to the couple that she was invading their bubble, but not too far away to be unable to participate in conversation or miss any distress signals from Robin. 

Luckily for her, after some subtle comments from Robin, followed by a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs, Alice finally took the hint and excused herself. She counted this as a victory in staying firmly in wingman territory. There would be no outdated chaperoning tonight. 

Not quite sure what to do with herself after leaving the one person in the house she actually felt comfortable spending time with, Alice wandered through the festivities, stopping to chit chat with old classmates every so often. She certainly wasn’t looking for Steve. Not really. Was she disappointed he wasn’t there yet? Maybe, but mostly Alice just felt overwhelmed without someone to anchor her. 

In the end she parked herself on a couch in the den, only returning to the party proper to replenish her drink. It was quieter in there, and much less crowded than the main living areas. There were a few people playing scrabble at a card table in the middle of the room as movie played softly in the corner, a couple boys sprawled out on a rug in front of the the television, watching intently. This was definitely more her speed tonight. 

Unfortunately, despite being a refuge from the chaos, this was also how Alice found herself three and a half drinks deep, getting her ear talked off by goddamn Matthew Miller. Yes, that Matthew Miller. She had cursed herself by thinking of him earlier. It seemed Matthew had conveniently forgotten his eighth grade indiscretions. Sadly for him, Alice was excellent at holding a grudge, even through the pleasant, fuzzy haze of drunkenness. 

“Anyway, you’d be surprised by the kind of stuff you could get away with in college. No one cares, Henderson, you could do whatever you want.” Matthew had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers lingering dangerously close to Alice’s shoulder. She clenched her plastic cup in her hand and stared straight ahead, willing someone, anyone, to save her from this conversation. Where the hell was Robin when she needed her? “And the girls, man. They’re nothing like high school chicks; everyone is just so open minded, y’know?”

“Mmhm.”

“Most of the them are just there looking for husbands, anyway, so it’s easier. That’s what Trevor says, anyway. You remember Trevor, right? He was french horn in high school, but we were roommates last semester, too. Anyway, it’s true though. These girls are just looking for someone to settle down and have babies with.”

Okay, that was quite enough of that. Alice threw the rest of her drink back, grimaced and finally turned toward Matthew with a withering scowl, preparing to lay into his insufferable, sexist ideas about women as a whole.

“First of all, you misogynistic prick, that’s—oh! ” Alice’s speech was slightly slurred, but not enough to hide the venom behind her words. Words that were all too suddenly cut off by the aforementioned prick making a bee-line for Alice’s lips, his eyes closed and mouth horrifyingly open. She threw herself backward into the arm of the couch at the last second, simultaneously pushing Matthew back into the cushions opposite her. “Oh, no thank you!”

The boy was clearly taken aback, or at the very least, not used to being turned down. “Are you sure? I thought we were having a moment!”

“What part of... of that ‘conversation’” Alice emphasized the word with some sloppy air quotes. “Made you think we were having a moment?! I might be drunk, but I’m not, like, random, regrettable hookup drunk, Trevor.”

“Matthew.” The boy corrected her with a glare. With practiced ease, he shifted his face into cool disinterest before plucking Alice’s empty cup from her hand. “I’m going to get us a refill. Maybe you’ll be a little nicer when I get back.”

Frowning deeply at his retreating back, Alice knew this was her chance to make a hasty departure. She just needed to get up. Which was easy, so easy. Or at least it would have been two drinks ago. The liquor had settled into her limbs, weighing her down like sandbags. It was fine, though. She just needed to flag down Robin to pull her out of the quicksand-like cushions that were sucking her deeper and deeper into the couch with every passing minute.

But where was Robin? Alice squinted her eyes, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd through the open doorway, but failed to spot either of the girls she’d been with earlier. This was also fine, surely someone had to know where they had disappeared off to. Triumph shot through Alice as she successfully caught the eye of a friendly face. She beaconed the familiar, fluffy-haired girl over.

“Kate. Kate listen, where is Robin?” 

“Hey Alice, you good?” Kate smiled down at her, amusement glinting in her eyes, before helpfully taking a quick look around the room. “I don’t really know, I’m sorry. I think she and Vickie were in the kitchen earlier, do you want me to go check?”

“You’re an angel, Kate, truly. A tumpeteer from the heavens.” The words tumbled from Alice’s mouth without filter. The lack of control should have mortified Alice, but she was well past the point of actually caring. Kate just chuckled, patted Alice on the head like a puppy, and made for the kitchen. 

No sooner did Alice’s ally disappear through one doorway, did her adversary emerge through another, a fresh plastic cup clutched in each hand. 

Shit. The time for games was over. Gathering every speck of willpower she possessed, Alice pushed herself up from the cavernous couch. Bad idea. Awful idea. She clutched the arm of the couch as the room moved around her, swaying and spinning like a carnival ride. Her stomach churned slightly. Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke.

A hand appeared on her arm, steadying her. Instinctively, she swatted it away. Unfortunately, the sudden movement tipped Alice off balance just enough to send her falling back into the accursed couch. She glared up at her assailant, ready to lay into Matthew about touching her without consent. Oh. Not Matthew, then.

Steve, her knight in shining polo, loomed over her with bemusement etched into his features. A flash of annoyance coursed through her; where had he been an hour ago, before her night had started to go downhill? However, the feeling was quickly overshadowed by dread when she caught Matthew’s garish, caution-sign yellow t-shirt from the corner of her eye.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m late, but you’re not going to believe the breakthrough I’ve had with Gladys—“

“Sit down,” she whispered to Steve, cutting him off as Matthew drew ever closer. Without a second thought, Steve slid into the seat next to Alice, side-eyeing the approaching figure. Alice clutched his arm, pulling him close like a human shield, as if she could camouflage herself with Steve’s considerably larger stature. “Pretend you’re talking to me.”

“Pretend to—we were talking, Alice. Until you rudely interrupted me.” Alice laughed loudly, tossing her head in the direction of where Matthew awkwardly hovered nearby, his shins bumping on the corner of the crowded coffee table. Steve snuck a peek, taking in the boy fumbling with the red cups in his hands, and nodded to signify he understood the situation. 

“Ah, I see. Okay, what angle are we going with here? The usual?” 

“Nuh uh, our moms work together. Dead grandma isn’t going to work.”

“What about my dead grandma?”

“Maybe. Can you even pull that off?”

“You underestimate me, Henderson.” Alice bit back a smirk as Steve took the challenge to heart. Without any sort of preamble he turned and pressed his forehead into her shoulder. Sliding his hand into hers, he gripped her fingers tightly and put in his best effort into looking the part of a grief-stricken man.

Alice froze.

For the first time, Alice was thankful for the alcohol that dulled her senses. Her heart fluttered as she tried not to think about the way his breath felt on her neck as he buried his face into her shoulder. Or the way the hard plane of his torso pressed into her own, or how it nearly took her breath away. 

Alice took a second to compose herself. You’re a goddamn professional, she scolded herself. This was a tried and true act, one that she and Steve had played out at least half a dozen times before to get out many an awkward encounter, though it was usually her amping up the dramatics. The proximity meant nothing, and Alice had better remember that. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d never been that close before. Closer, she recalled, heat pooling in her stomach. 

It had just been so long. 

But she could think about that later. Instead of lingering on feeling the heat of his skin on her body, she focused on the performance at hand. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Matthew finally piped up after what felt like an eternity of fake-comforting Steve as he fake-cried into the light cardigan she’d thrown over her tank top earlier in the evening. Alice glowered at him incredulously as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down Steves back. He was good, maybe too good. A wicked thought crossed her mind. Lets see how well he could do with this one.

“Shh, his guinea pig just died.” She hissed. Steve stiffened a bit, thrown off by Alice’s plot twist. She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping cool. “Show a little respect, Miller.”

“Damn, Harrington, I’m sorry man. Here,” Matthew deposited both cups of god-knows-what concoction, on the table before them.  “Have a drink for…for—“

“Henrietta.” Alice supplied, helpfully. 

“For Henrietta.” Matthew nodded and clapped Steve on the shoulder before hurrying away as quickly as his feet could take him. Once he was safely out of sight, Alice couldn’t hold back the peals of laughter. Steve took the moment to collect himself, smoothing back his hair and wiping the non-existent tears from his face. 

“Guinea pig?” Steve spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

She shrugged helplessly. “You were so convincing, though, Steve! Why didn’t you ever try out for the school plays? We never had enough boys, they would have eaten you up.”

“Just another one of my many unrealized talents. Come on, lets go find the lovebirds. They’re around here somewhere.” He chuckled, rising from his seat. Offering a hand to Alice, he pulled her up with minimal effort. She felt steady enough on her feet to follow him through the house, but not before swiping her drink from the coffee table. 

 ***

“And then! After giving me all this bullshit about how these college girls are all so eager to throw themselves at him, he decides its a perfect time to go for it. Mouth. Wide. Open.”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding.” Robin and Vickie sat shoulder-to-shoulder on one of the few lounge chairs scattered across the backyard, twin expressions of disgust etched across their faces. Alice was sprawled across the foot of a shared lounge chair herself. Steve had somehow managed to fold himself onto a tight ball of limbs on the other half, leaving plenty of room for Alice to gesticulate wildly as she recounted every gory detail of her run-in with Matthew.

“I swear he like, unhinged his jaw or something.” Alice cackled, shifting her body to lean more of her weight onto Steve’s bent legs. At this point, she was sure he was the only thing keeping her upright. To his credit, he merely shifted to accommodate her, untangling himself slightly so that he could sprawl his legs out on either side of her. Alice took the opportunity to claim space of her own, scooting back to nestle her shoulder against his chest, while keeping her body angled to carry on her conversation. 

Sober Alice would have never, not in a million years. But drunk Alice was an entirely different story. She reveled in the easy way Steve slipped an arm around her waist, hooking his thumb through the belt loop on her hip. The action didn’t go unnoticed to the girl across from her, either. Robin caught Alice’s eye and gave a wink. Alice tried, and failed, to hide a grin. 

“Anyway, then Steve finally showed up, but Henrietta died and he started crying, which we all know is the ultimate boy repellent, so s’all good now.” 

“Wait, who’s Henrietta?” Vickie piped up, looking concerned by the mention of someone dying. 

“Steve’s guinea pig.” Alice yawned behind her hand, before resting her head on her folded knees. “But don’t worry, I’m not even a hundred percent sure she even existed.”

“She definitely never existed, you nerd.” Steve’s chest rumbled as he spoke, chuckling softly. 

The conversation drifted to movies and Alice’s altered state-of-mind had a hard time keeping up with titles and actors. Despite her lack of ability to make a mental contribution, Alice was overjoyed to see Robin so open and totally herself around Vickie. If anyone deserved to be in a happy relationship, it was Robin. Alice knew she couldn’t come close to understanding the nuances of being in Robin’s shoes, but she certainly knew the sting of unrequited love. 

Though, she supposed, her’s wasn’t really unrequited, now was it? Did it still count as unrequited if the feelings had actually been requited all along, but the other party had chosen to be an ass about them for the better part of a year instead of talking about said feelings? Either way, Alice felt a strong kinship with Robin in the whole romance department. 

Head swimming, Alice decided that last drink had been a bad idea. To her credit, she’d only drank half of it before a moment of clarity had her switching to bottled water, but it was enough to push her just a bit too far over her usual limit. Enough to completely disregard any and all inhibitions, but also, as it turned out, enough to make her very, very sleepy. 

The fourth time Alice’s head slipped from it’s perch, Steve let out a heavy sigh, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tighter into himself. Alice gave up trying to keep herself up and settled fully against his chest, letting her eyes drift shut. 

Everything about this was against Alice’s better judgement, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of how right it felt. The buttons of his shirt digging into her cheek, how his breath ruffled her hair as he dipped his head to whisper in her ear.

“Maybe it’s time to get you home, huh?” Alice’s eyes snapped open and forced herself upright. Absolutely not; there was no way she was about to cut Robin’s night short because she got a little too drunk and couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

“Nope, can’t go home.” She mumbled sleepily, pulling the front of her cardigan to wrap around her body a bit tighter to ward off the chilly night air.

“…why not?”

“Two reasons Stephen,” Alice held up a lazy finger, ticking off the first. “Number one; look at Robin.”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told, fixing his gaze on Robin, who was now visibly uncomfortable with the sudden attention Alice brought to her.

“When was the last time you saw Robin have a good time at a party?”

“I have tons of fun at parties all the time, Alice!” Robin protested from her chair. 

“Exactly. I’m not going to make her leave a nice time just so she could lay in bed listening to me snore all night.”

“I can take Robin home later.” Vickie nervously interjected, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “If that’s what you want, I mean. No pressure, it’s just…I’m having a nice time too.”

Robin visibly lit up at the prospect of actual Alone Time with her long-term crush. She nodded enthusiastically, a blush creeping up her neck. Alice flashed her what she hoped was a subtle thumbs up, which in hindsight was maybe a bit too subtle even for its intended recipient. Embarrassed, she tucked her hand back into her sweater.

“Oh, perfect. That problem was solved…quickly. Anyway, third of—“

“Second?”

“Second of all…I can’t go home drunk. My mom will cry and it’ll lead Dustin down a…a dark path of drugs and alcohol. You guys know the kid, there very impressionable at that age.” 

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“You don’t know that. I just…I don’t like them seeing me like this. So I can…I’ll sleep it off on this lawn chair, I guess. If you don’t mind scooting…” She leaned forward as far as she could, giving Steve a chance to get up. He swung his long legs over the side of the lounge and hesitated, a brief flash of inner conflict crossed his face as he considered something.

“Or…”

“Or?”

“Or I can take you back to my place and you can sober up there.”

Alice clapped a hand over her speeding heart, face heating to what was sure sure to be a low-grade fever. What was this kid playing at? 

“Mr. Harrington, I think we’ve established I’m not that kind of girl!” She managed to choke out after her pulse calmed. 

“Jesus Christ, Alice, not like that!” He spluttered, taking a few steps back as though to put some distance between himself and Alice. Robin dissolved into a fit of mad laughter, completely ignoring the icy glare Steve shot in her direction. He placed his hands on his hips, looking absolutely exasperated by both girls. “I just figured my couch would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than a hard plastic chair, but if that’s what you’d prefer then by all means—“

“No, no! That’s…that’s actually super nice of you, Steve.” Alice tried to recover, feeling a small pang of guilt through the alcohol. She had misunderstood, of course Steve was just trying to help. That’s just what they did; they took care of each other. 

“Listen, don’t feel obligated or anything, it was just a suggestion. I can just as easily let you sleep right here, or take you to Robin’s, or to back to your house to corrupt Dustin. Just wanted you to have options, is all.” Steve rambled as Alice leant over to fish her purse from underneath the lounge. Stumbling clumsily to her feet, she looped her arm around Steve’s to regain some balance.

“Do you have snacks?”

“Ok, I’ve changed my mind. You’re not allowed in my home.” 

“Can we stop somewhere to get snacks?”

“Will you behave yourself if I say yes?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

[liliannorman]

Science isn’t just for scientists

On a sunny day, a yellow school bus heads to Elver Park in Madison, Wisc. The seventh graders inside are excited to launch the rockets they’ve built in class. 

At the park, the students find their assigned flag posts, armed with their rocket, notebook, pencil and angle finder. Two at a time, they march to the launch pad and prepare their rocket for take-off. They wait for their teacher’s signal to start the countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… GO! 

With the angle finder and a little math, they estimate each rocket’s maximum height. They calculate how their rocket fared against 90 others made by their classmates and teacher. 

“With the rocket unit, I teach the basic principles of physics and motion,” explains David Ropa. He teaches science at Spring Harbor Middle School and embraces learning by doing. That includes taking math and science into the park. 

“Kids, like all humans, are doing science all the time,” says Ropa. They explore the world through play, he adds, whether it’s stacking toys or building bike ramps. They have a hypothesis. They set up a test. They analyze the results. Then they adjust their strategy. 

The tools his students use at school, says Ropa, are the same as those that many adults use at work. Some of these adults wear a white lab coat and carry a business card with the word “scientist.” Most don’t. 

Chefs, musicians and gardeners often use the scientific method, though they may not call it that. Their jobs — and many more — apply textbook principles of science in the real world. 

The science of cooking 

J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the chef at a German-inspired beer hall and restaurant in San Mateo, Calif. He also is culinary director for Serious Eats. That’s an award-winning blog about “anything food and drink.” In its Food Lab section, Lopez-Alt “unravels the mysteries of home cooking through science.” He also wrote a bestselling book on that topic.

At age 18, Lopez-Alt wanted to become a scientist, like his dad and grandpa. He took biology classes at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge. He also worked in a biology lab. But being a scientist soon began to lose its appeal. 

“Although I loved biology, I found the day-to-day lab work very boring,” he explains. “I couldn’t see myself doing that for decades.”

Searching for a summer job outside the lab, Lopez-Alt stumbled upon cooking. A Mongolian restaurant needed a prep cook to start right away. At that job, he fell in love with cooking. Although he graduated college with a degree in architecture, he kept returning to the kitchen. He worked his way up the ranks in several restaurants. 

The more he cooked, the more he started to question the assumptions behind his recipes. Much of cooking is tradition. But, he wondered, are there scientific reasons for preparing food the way we typically do? 

In his restaurant jobs, Lopez-Alt didn’t have time to pursue that question. That changed when he started working at Cooks Illustrated. This cooking magazine features detailed recipes that describe how they were tested and tweaked. Lopez-Alt started as a test cook and writer. Soon, he became the magazine’s science advisor.  

In that role, “I could finally answer all these questions that had been building up in my head during my years as a line cook,” says Lopez-Alt. He especially likes to apply his knowledge of physics and chemistry to home cooking. 

Kenji Lopez-Alt boils potatoes in slightly basic (alkaline) water before roasting them in the oven. That gives them a delicious brown crust without their getting too soft inside. Kenji Lopez-Alt

Lopez-Alt still creates many new recipes by questioning assumptions. For example, people often boil potatoes in plain, pH-neutral tap water. But roast potatoes taste best with a crunchy outside and a creamy, flavorful center. To achieve that taste, Lopez-Alt adds a little baking soda to the water. That raises its pH. The water is now slightly basic (alkaline), instead of neutral. 

That helps because the cell walls in fruits and vegetables contain pectin. This starch breaks down more easily in alkaline water. Thus, the outer surface of potato chunks boiled in that water gets softer while the inside stays firm. That soft surface becomes deliciously crispy when coated with oil and roasted on a baking sheet. 

Another longstanding tradition is to sear a steak in a pan, then finish it in a hot oven. Lopez-Alt prefers his “reverse sear” method. He starts with slowly heating the meat in a warm oven (275° Fahrenheit; 135° Celsius). The sear comes last. Science explains why that produces a more tender piece of meat with an evenly browned crust. 

First, by the time the steak’s center reaches medium-rare in a hot oven, its outer layers are overcooked. That bull’s eye effect is due to physics. The larger the difference between the temperature of an object (steak) and its environment (oven), the larger the difference inside the object. That’s one of the laws of thermodynamics.

Second, meat contains enzymes that break down its connective tissue in a warm environment. While the meat roasts slowly in the low-temperature oven, those enzymes have time to tenderize it. But if the oven is too hot, it turns off the enzymes. 

Third, it takes five times more energy to evaporate a gram of water than to bring it from ice-cold to boiling. (That’s physics again.) Searing the raw meat first wastes energy on drying out its moist surface to produce the brown crust. But searing the meat after the oven has evaporated its moisture browns it more quickly and evenly. 

Piano science 

Like cooking, music combines art and science. That’s also true when taking care of instruments. 

“The process of tuning a piano is a physics lesson in action,” says Don Mitchell. He’s a retired piano technician in Vancouver, Wash. He used to teach at the School of Piano Technology for the Blind. 

A piano tuner uses a wrench to tighten metal pins attached to strings inside the instrument. “Tuning a piano is a physics lesson in action,” explains Don Mitchell, a retired piano technician. ahavelaar/iStock/Getty Images Plus

Mitchell grew up in Oregon in a music-loving family. At an early age, he was fascinated by science. He loves to sing and plays the piano, guitar, banjo, mandolin and bass. 

Blind since birth, Mitchell relied heavily on listening to learn to play those instruments. His job combines those listening skills with science. He uses the physics of sound (acoustics), the mechanics of motion and the mathematics of musical scales. 

Piano keys are mechanical levers for strings inside the piano. Pressing a key makes a small hammer hit these strings. The moving strings cause molecules in the air to vibrate. The vibration travels through the air as a sound wave. 

The length and thickness of the string determine the frequency, or pitch, of the sound wave. Short and thin strings produce high pitches, which we hear as tenor and treble notes. Longer and thicker strings produce lower pitches, which we hear as bass notes.

But short strings don’t make as much sound as long ones. The higher pitches combine up to three strings to make them loud enough to hear. That’s why most pianos have 88 keys and around 230 strings. 

To tune a piano, Mitchell uses a wrench to turn metal tuning pins attached to the strings. That changes the strings’ pitch by adjusting their tension and length. But tuning is more than getting each key to produce one specific pitch. 

Mitchell has to adjust multiple vibrating strings together so that the intervals between notes match intervals in musical scales. These scales are based on mathematical relationships between pitches. To describe them, scientists measure each pitch in hertz, or vibrations per second. For example, the pitch of the note A above middle C needs to be 440 hertz. The pitch of the note B next to it should be about 494 hertz.

The challenge of tuning is that the interaction of multiple strings is different for each piano. That’s why Mitchell has to combine his math skills with an excellent musical ear. He has to make all the intervals between pitches sound correct. A well-tuned piano has a smooth, rich and pleasing sound, no matter what combination of notes a pianist plays. 

When Mitchell repairs a piano, he uses the same strategy as a scientist testing a hypothesis. He changes one part at a time while keeping all others constant. “Eventually, with years of experience, you hear the sound and already have a good idea what’s wrong,” he adds. “That’s especially true for blind people.”

Problem-solving for airplanes 

Lynze Price’s childhood dream was to become an astronaut. In the end, she found a more down-to-Earth job: She helps planes fly safely. At Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, Fla., she earned a bachelor’s degree in aviation-maintenance science. 

As a corporate aviation technician, she combines her love of physics with her knack for fixing stuff. She calls herself an “aircraft surgeon.” She must diagnose problems and figure out how to solve them.

Lynze Price combines her love of science with her knack for fixing stuff to make sure each airplane under her care is safe and ready for take-off and landing.Harley Cook

For example, airplane antennae transmit or receive electrical signals through shielded wires. Those signals help a plane navigate to its destination and communicate with traffic-control. 

When an antenna doesn’t correctly sense the airport runway, Price studies the plane’s wiring diagram. It shows all of the plane’s electrical connections. Electrical engineers with advanced degrees designed that system. Price has to locate on the diagram the wire linked to the problem. Then she can hunt down the wire to fix a loose connection or other issue. 

Brake valves are another example. The plane’s computer system controls these valves. Computer engineers put that system together. When brakes have issues, Price uses her troubleshooting skills to figure out what’s wrong. Sometimes the brake needs a new valve. Other times, it’s the computer system that needs a small adjustment. 

“As an aviation technician, I’m doing some of the same practical things that engineers do,” says Price. “I’m just not the person sitting behind a desk and designing the entire system.” 

Caring for plants 

Leslie Hunter also uses problem-solving skills to keep a system working well. But she’s in charge of plants, not airplanes. She started her own vegetable garden at age eight. Her parents tilled the ground, but she was in charge of all else. 

At the Greater Des Moines Botanical Garden in Iowa, Leslie Hunter takes care of plants and designs new gardens. Here, she’s just yanked out an especially big thistle weed. Courtesy of Leslie Hunter

In college, Hunter discovered horticulture. That’s the science and art of growing fruits, vegetables, flowers and ornamental plants. Today she works in Iowa, at the Greater Des Moines Botanical Garden. 

As part of her job, Hunter regularly tests soil pH and levels of nutrients, such as phosphorus and nitrogen. She uses chemistry and soil science to decide which fertilizer will best support which plants. For example, many green leafy plants prefer more nitrogen. But in flowering plants, extra phosphorus is a bloom booster. 

From soil science, Hunter knows that evergreens, rhododendrons and azaleas need acidic soil, with a pH below 7. Maples and butterfly bushes prefer alkaline soil, with a pH above 7. In some flowers, pH levels even determine the blooms’ color. 

Explainer: The fertilizing power of N and P

The science of insects (entomology) and of plants (botany) help Hunter control garden pests and weeds. That’s also important for knowing when and how to prune shrubs and trees. 

Sometimes, Hunter tests new plant varieties in a garden plot. She uses genetics to understand how plant breeders created these cultivars. That helps her decide if they might be a good fit for Des Moines.

Role playing and role models

In Madison’s Elver Park, the students make their rockets fly as high as they can. That teaches them the physics of flight. It also instills a sense of wonder and hopefulness, says Ropa. 

Some kids will never forget that rocket launch. For others, a crime-scene-investigation unit may hook them on science.

“Kids are morbidly curious,” says Ropa. “Just watch them when a dead fish washes up by the lake.”

In a classroom-turned-briefing-room, Chief Detective Ropa introduces a suspected-murder case. There’s a body outline on the floor, complete with autopsy report, fingerprints and a few samples. (Ropa removed images of the dead body from a real report and added fictional names.)

Science teacher David Ropa (left) helps students launch rockets (below) they built in class. That’s how his seventh graders informally learn the principles of physics.Silke Schmidt

The students use science to solve the case. To understand the reported time of death, they learn how the heart and lungs work. They decide how to use the samples for DNA tests. They figure out how to turn fingerprints and DNA results into a list of suspects. 

With their data, the students make hypotheses about who did it and why. Ropa listens to them debate and defend their ideas. For the next two months, he only answers questions as Chief Detective Ropa.

Role models like this can get and keep students interested in science, says Ryan Lei. He is a psychologist at Haverford College in Pennsylvania. His studies show that the language a teacher uses can also make a difference. 

Kids stay more confident about “doing science” when their teachers use those words, Lei says. Talking about “being scientists” actually may lower their confidence. The kids in the studies ranged from preschool to late elementary school. 

Attitudes toward science and scientists often change as kids mature, says Lei. So do the factors that shape those attitudes. Older students may care more about adult role models than a teacher’s language. But those adults don’t have to be scientists. They just need to model the human curiosity we’re all born with.

Says Hunter, “That’s what scientists really are — very curious people who keep that curiosity going in their jobs.” 

Building 3-D printers via trial and error

Maarten van Lier stands next to a 3-D printer.Courtesy of M. van Lier

Maarten van Lier loved to build stuff as a kid. After earning a degree in computer science, he developed software for different businesses. He eventually quit and returned to building physical things — 3-D printers. 

These machines assemble objects from computer models by adding one thin layer at a time of plastic or some other “ink.” Van Lier didn’t take any classes in electrical engineering or robotics. He found everything he needed to know on the internet. 

He often starts with some component he found on eBay. The rest is trial and error. He comes up with a design idea, tests his hypothesis and observes the results. If it doesn’t work, he analyzes why and starts over. That’s not so different from how a scientist runs experiments. 

“I always felt that I used a lot of science but would never call myself a scientist,” says van Lier. Instead, he’s “applying their original ideas to real-world problems.” 

Science isn’t just for scientists published first on https://triviaqaweb.tumblr.com/

[omsrandom]

In This Tunnel, There is but One Light {Full Fic}

Written for @ask-joeydrewstudios​ upon the reveal of the Death List for all of the known characters so far.

“I’m sorry…”

The world tuned out, the edges of his vision blurring and ears ringing as the doctor continued to talk. Two words, said in a tone filled with dread, it made him want to sit down and weep. He wanted to cry, because even though they had spent so long together, it felt like no time at all. He didn’t know what went wrong. It just seemed like a normal day…

The first had been Norman, who passed in his sleep. It had been coming for some time, after all. Ever since the Toons came to life, the elder had started to lag. He made fun of it, but they could all see it in his eyes.

The weeks following the news were somber, yes, but since it had been expected, not much had changed. Sometimes, when he passed the orchestra room, Henry could hear the man’s laugh, or orders to play a certain note. Sammy sometimes went to go argue with the new conductor, starting off with a yell of the old man’s name before stopping, a look of grief passing over his features before returning under his mask. Joey and Susie found that the music didn’t sing just quite as well as when Norman did it. The toons, perhaps, were hit worse.

There had been others leaving, if for children or weddings or other jobs, but never once for death. Alice had found a type of kinship with him, and often could be found holding his hat, which he had placed on her halo the day of his retirement party. Bendy and Boris, of course, were with her during this duration of grief.

Thomas went next due to smoking; lung cancer. It had been too late to tell, too late to properly prepare. It comes as a low blow, because everyone became very aware of the cigarette in Sammy’s mouth as they all stared at their former co-worker’s nurse. As before, grief settled across the studio, and as before, the Toons were the ones to suffer the most.

Joey went in front of all of them. Boris, Alice, Bendy, Henry, Dianne, Sammy, Susie, Wally. The Original gang, minus Norman. Each, he told them something; something that on any other day, would’ve lightened their hearts. Bendy was told that Joey was forever proud that his ‘first born’ had found a way to enjoy life, even in this type of imprisonment. Boris was told that no matter what, he was forever loved and always the best wolf-ink-son he could’ve asked for. Alice was his darling girl, a true angel amidst demonic rituals. It went this way through the humans, all the way up to Henry. “Take care of them,” Joey whispered. “Or I’ll haunt your…” he trailed off.

“Aw, c-c’mon,” Bendy sniffed, head curling into his Creator’s side. “A-A word wou-wouldn’t h-hurt.”

“Hush, Bendy,” Joey murmured. “You’re the owner, Henry. Please… Keep us…” he was gone before ‘going’ could pass his lips. Bendy wouldn’t let them near the body for a day, to which it took Alice, Boris and a group of ‘seekers’ to remove him from the room.

And for once, since the opening day, Joey Drew Studio fell silent. Silent it stayed for three weeks, the workers in too much shock to raise their voice beyond a whisper, which often sent the Toons into a fit. Wally, for all that he complained, couldn’t find it in him when he found the poor demon curled in a puddle, shaking uncontrollably as he rocked back and forth. Sammy, for all that he bitched, found that the little shit wasn’t actually as bad as he seems when he was in too much grief to do anything, which was… actually disheartening.

Slowly, things resumed to normal. Lives were lived, stories were made and told. Up until, of course, Death made its strike again.

Shawn, their toymaker, went of old age, leaving his wife and children behind. He had been working on an Alice Angel doll for the said Angel when he closed his eyes and just… never opened them again. Alice… well, somethings were best left unsaid.

They had more warning with Sammy, but it was still unexpected. Susie stuck with his side, all the way to the end. The twins, 22, helped all they could, but even so, some holes just couldn’t be filled. The music studio was in a dilemma. Sammy was rough around the edges, and not a generally nice guy, but everything just felt wrong when his son stepped up to the plate, looking frazzled and tired.

The studio was just… never the same.

Henry found Susie in her husband’s old office, sketches of happier times clutched in her hands. Offering his own, he knew his eyes reflected his own tears. “I’m sorry…”

The next time it happened, it was a rainy, cold day. As before, everything seemed, well, normal. She had woken up and went through her altered morning rituals, still not used to waking up to a half empty bed, right side cold and stiff from disuse. Eleven years had passed since her love said his final words, and a day didn’t go by where she didn’t think of him at least once.

Still, she went through the routine of applying her lipstick and straightening her hair up, she grabbed her purse and pulled on her peacoat before heading out the door. Grey fog and wet concrete met her sights as the gentle patter of rain fell. Pushing her collar up – fond memories came up as she did this, making her smile bittersweetly – she continued down the sidewalk, only a few blocks away when a terrible sound screeched through the air.

Something hit her side, sending her flying into the building. A sharp pain in her neck led her laying halfway in debris, staring at the grey clouds as the rain continued to fall, her world slowly fading out.

Three blocks away, the day in the Studio hiccuped. Stephen and Stanley were, of course, asked of their mother and her whereabouts, to which they responded a ‘don’t know’ until around 4:16, when Henry got a phone call from the police department, asking if Stephen and/or Stanley were there.

He would never forget the twins’s screams when it was revealed a very, very old coworker of theirs had been driving with no brake pads, over the speed limit in the rain, and hit and killed their mother just three blocks down.

Grant had been hospitalized, having apparently said the wrong thing at the wrong place. They expected him to be ok, for the most part.

No one expected the mafia getting involved. In a twisted sense a humor, it was funny to see Grant’s past come out, but in context? It broke Henry’s and Dianne’s hearts. They had trusted him so much, yet he didn’t return the favor? He must’ve known they would’ve helped, which is why, of course, he probably didn’t ask for any help.

The years shifted, employees left and joined, and for a while, everything was good, happy, even. Henry’s phone rang from beside him, startling him slightly from where he had been doodling a design Joey would’ve shot down instantly with one of those blasted sticky notes of his. Picking up the phone, he spoke. “Joey Drew Studio, can I help you?”

“Yes, is this Henry Batim?” A woman asked.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“It’s about a Wally Franks? It was requested that you and the studio would be notified when this happens.” Dread and apprehension filled him. “It’s to my condolences that I must inform you that as of today, Mr. Franks was found dead in his room.”

“I see…” he rasped out. “I’ll inform the others. Thank you ma’am.” Hanging up the phone, his arm brushed an old picture. Picking it up, he smiled at the scene they had managed to capture. Joey sitting in the center, Bendy, himself and Wall to the elder man’s left, Boris behind him and Alice, Susie and Sammy to his right. With a sigh, he stood and gently set the frame down. “Looks like it’s just… me…”

The year of 1990 was… unbearable

Dianne had been laughing at a joke Benjamen had told her while a cake was being baked in the oven. He had been on the phone, talking to Boris when a sudden shout of “MOM!” and when he turned, their eldest son was towering over her as she had a hand over her chest, over her heart. At first, he thought maybe she had laughed a little too hard, but her face turned pained, and her fingers dug into the borrowed sweater, and that’s when he knew.

The phone fell to the floor as he all but threw himself towards her armchair just as the first gasp came. “Honey? Honey?!” He could see Ben going to the phone, hanging up before sharply pulling it off the hook again, only receiving the dial up tone in return.

“Henry,” Dianne whimpered, green, pain filled eyes pleading. Pleading for him or for the pain to stop, he didn’t know because her next words were outdrowned by Benjamen’s screaming for help, that his mother was having a heart attack. When he was finished, Henry was left crying as her breaths grew more and more shallow.

By the time the ambulance was there, Dianne was already gone.

Perhaps… perhaps his fate was honestly the worst. He knew from day one there had been a very high chance that he’d outlive Norman and Joey. But Sammy? Susie? Wally? His precious Dianne? It made him want to cry. Oh, don’t get him wrong, the past eleven years had been a joy, even if the first year or so was numb. The Toons adored having someone living full-time with them again, but they could see it on him as the last few years begun to set it. He could tell, because Bendy was starting to act more distant, less like the prankster he was. Boris was clingy and almost never left his Creator’s side. Alice was over helpful, often taking papers even when he didn’t need help.

At first, it was a little endearing, but as the weeks passed, the feeling quickly fled when they tried to get him to stop drawing. He put a stop to that quickly, but he knew everyone would be watching him closely. “Stanley, Stephen, do you know why I called you in here?” He asked them one day when they were in his office, well aware of the toons’s eyes on him.

“Studio Business, right?” Stanley asked.

“Yes. Or, rather, Studio Succession. Joey Drew named me owner upon his passing, but for a while there, we all thought in some way we would have been left, well, leaderless. I don’t want to do that to these guys.”

“Uncle Henry?” Stephen questioned, face filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

“No, Stephen.” he sighed. “I’ve never been alright. I’m old, and tired. I know I don’t have much longer,” Boris burrowed his head into Henry’s side at this, making the old man smile slightly and pet him. “Which is why when I finally go, you two will be in charge. You grew up with the Toons, and both of you are doing so brilliant as department heads. It’s without a doubt you two can take over my place.”

“I… Henry, we…” Stanley shared a look with his twin and they went around the desk, hugging the man they considered to be an uncle. They broke at the same time, crying into his tweed jacket as Alice and Bendy also enveloped him into a hug. A hug none of them wanted to end.

Weeks passed, and on day, he walked into the studio, eyes narrowing at how quiet it seemed. “Joey?” He called out before frowning. Why did that seem wrong? There was pitterpatter and a black, faceless entity was in front of him.

“Bendy, get back here!” A familiar voice called. Joey Drew rounded the corner, and stopped behind the faceless blob. “Oh, hello there Henry.”

“Joey, what is that?” He found himself asking, unable to shake off the deja vu.

“It’s Bendy! I made him this weekend. Isn’t he lovely?” The old man asked, hands clasped and head tilted towards his creation.

“What do you mean yo-?” He cut himself off, looking around. “This is too familiar.”

“Hah, I was wondering when you’d point it out,” Joey chuckled, breaking character as well. “For lack of better words, you’re dead, and this is, well, Heaven.”

“But you sold your soul?”

“I did,” Joey confirmed. “But apparently that only takes place if I passed a line.” There was an awkward pause as the black body disappeared.

“Is… is everyone else…?”

“Oh, they’re about.” Joey answered, waving a hand around to motion to the studio, which looked exactly how it had been when Joey ran it. “I think you should go to your desk, however. There’s a present for you there.”

Frowning in confusion, Henry watched his old boss start to walk away before heading towards his old workstation, freezing at the sight that greeted him.

There Dianne sat, no more greys in her hair and laugh lines gone from her face. Her green eyes sparkled in both joy and grief as she threw herself at him, arms locking around his neck. Immediately, he buried his face into her neck and twirled her, stopping only just to start shaking and sobbing.

“I’m sorry.”

[promisedangel]

King’s Island Haunt Review

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MAKE ONE FOR LAST WEEKEND’S TRIP, at least not until the friend who went with me reminded me during the MLP season 7 finale.

Travel to there was long, took longer cuz we got stuck in two bad choke points in Columbus traffic. We already made the mental note to leave earlier if we are returning to the Haunt next year. We ended up getting to the park little over an hour after it opened and the lines for rides/haunted houses didn’t exceed 45 minutes that night.

General Notes -The Haunt’s scenery was well done. The fog, the eyes on the Effiel Tower clone were awesome, and there was creepy music around the park to boot. One thing I am kinda disappointed about was the lack of actors outside of the haunted houses. There were only 3 sections of the park in which actors were on the prowl, and only one of them were really effective (I’ll tell that story on the second night). -We stayed at a Super 8, and it was actually pretty good. We just needed a place to sleep, and it worked. It was also near a good amount of food places to choose for breakfast! -The park offered these necklaces for $12 that pretty much said you don’t want to be scared. WHY COME TO A HALLOWEEN THING AND NOT WANT TO GET SCARED? I saw adults with these things on, too! The only way I could see these necklaces worth it, was if no area of the park was safe. If there were actors all over, maybe even in lines for rides and stuff. Then, it’d be worth it. But with only 3 scare zones, it’s not worth it.

Friday - The first thing my friend insisted we do was ride The Beast, as it was getting dark when we arrived and the ride was famous for its night ride since there are no lights around the track. When my friend was young, he and his dad swore they saw red lights, which they have since titled “The killer cows from hell”. Pretty cool ride, not the best, but it was fun riding in the front. -We hit two haunts next. First was The Slaughterhouse... which was kinda meh. Pacing felt too fast and the actors just weren’t trying that hard. - Madam Fatale’s Cavern of Terror was fun! They even got my friend pretty hard. He was lightly taunting some guy actor when this girl actor came from behind and scared him. I swear he jumped 2 feet and fell on the ground. -MYSTIC TIMBERS. AWESOME. The lore, the ride, no wonder it’s got an award already! If Halloween wasn’t so close, I would SO do oneshot based on the ride, but it’s too close and I got a request/gift to do T.T -Diamondback is now in my top five coasters EVER. Riding in the back at night was amazing, you get so much airtime!!! -Vortex is an Oldie but Goldie ride. It was pretty much a walk-on, but an awesome ride. I heard some people want it torn down, but it’s good! -Urgent Scare definitely needs an upgrade on its animatronics. In the ONE place it needs to look it’s most real, they look the fakest. Disappointed. -Drop Tower was fun, loved how it twisted on the way up. -Finished the night on the Banshee. it was cool, equal to The Raptor in Cedar Point.

Saturday -Had a nice breakfast before getting to the park as it opened. We rode Diamondback twice more as our start (In hindsight, this was a bad idea, but we still enjoyed it). -We accidentally went all the way around Backlot Stunt Coaster before we found the entrance, BUT, it led to us meeting a fellow Brony in line for it. Turned out he was at the park by his lonesome and we offered for him to hang out with us. Best decision of the day. The coaster was cool, good family ride. -Rode Vortex again with our new addition and got to know him pretty well. Also headed down to Racers, which was okay. He led us down to The Bat, which was MUCH more fun than Iron Dragon at Cedar Point. -Had to wait a half hour for Invertigo, kinda found out the park was starting to get crowded with people. While in line, we all bonded and I learned out this super intense horror experience called McKamey Manor. While our new friend seems gung-ho for it, I, on the other hand, will NEVER enter that place. Don’t hate the idea, nor the people who go through it. Invertigo was fun, but dunno if it was worth the wait. -Adventure Express was a good beginner coaster, used to be an Indiana Jones coaster before the park was bought by Cedar Fair. -Took a break to get food out of the park and relax a bit, and get sweatshirts for the night ahead. Getting pack in was a pain because we had to park so far away from the park. Made it a half hour before the 7:00 cut off point for getting back in the park. -Our goal for the night was to focus on the Haunts. We started with CarnEvil. Pretty decent, and someone gave me their 3D glasses, so it was trippy for me. Our new addition began to playfully taunt actors and was a joy to see. -Kill-Mart was fun, but mostly fun cause all of us work retail. We ended up making jokes on how it was ‘normal’ for us. Our new guy pointed out a scare and I still fell for it, so he heckled me a bit for it. -Field of Screams had a long line. Think it was a little over an hour. We ended up talking with the two girls in front of us most of the time about various horror topics and watched as one guy in the Fast Pass line scared a few people by hiding in bushes. Two other girls also fell off a fence in the line, but they weren’t hurt. Field of Screams was fun despite the wait but needed just a few more people to really bring out the best of it. There was this wide hay bale area with one actor, but two more would have really made it. One woman followed us out and scared a couple of us. This one girl behind us latched onto my friend, but she made it through with his encouragement. -We quickly went to Board to Death, which was more of a cool visual haunted house than a scary one. My friend and our new friend heckled the actors a bit, and we noticed by now that a lot of the actors over the night tried to get me rather than them. I remember this one actor woman asked if I wanted to play Twister with her and I said no. She then booked it to behind our group and got a scare out of the group of girls behind us, it was funny to just see her book it and immediately hear the screams. - We wanted to go to Blackout, cuz we had heard of various people throughout the night that it was really good, but the line was long and our new friend said he had to leave before midnight since he had to drive himself home. We made a choice and rode Banshee with him. I was, unfortunately starting to get cranky around this time cuz my feet hurt but giving him one last hurrah was worth the hour wait on Banshee. Fun fact: Banshee doesn’t allow fanny packs, BUT, if you stuff them in a hoodie pocket, they’re no problem! Just something I found funny. -We cut through the scare zone of Wasteland so we could quickly drop our new friend off at the gate. The actors in this zone were plentiful and really worked to get scares. They were really good. Sadly, we found this mom with this little girl, probably about 6-7, crying on her mom’s shoulder after going through the zone scared. Felt kinda bad for them. -We said our goodbyes to our new friend and got his contact information in hopes to meet up with him again sometime, even if it was just to come to the Haunt with him again. Did a quick picture together and then my friend and I went at it alone at about midnightish. -I REALLY wanted to hit as many things as possible before the night ended. We cut through the scare zone under the tower called Dance of the Macabre, pretty cool area. -Went straight to Backwoods Bayou. Decent place, good number of actors. The ones in swamp monster suits got us the most cuz we could barely see them coming. Saw people go into the bonus area and we mused about getting the pass for the rooms next year. -We saw that we didn’t have much time left before the park closed. We planned our route and headed straight for Blackout, and the line was less than 15 minutes!!! Was probably one of the most effective haunts in the entire park. You hold a rope with your right hand, while you navigate with your left in a dark maze that occasionally flashes with non-seizure inducing lights. Loved it. -We saw Wolf Pack had no line and quickly ran to it. The actors really tried in there and got my friend a good number of times. Really good visuals and jumpscares. -To close out our trip, we made our way across the park to ride The Beast one last time. We went slowly because my feet were screaming at me by this point. We got in line 15 minutes before the park closed and were probably the 6-7 car before the last ride. We saw The Slaughterhouse close up shop at 2 while still in line. The Beast is a pain in the back, too rough for my tastes. I tried to wedge my arm between the edge of my seat and me to lessen it, but it barely worked. -The walk back through the park to the car was sad, and a bit tough with my hurt feet after doing more than 50k steps that weekend. But we made it and I fell asleep very soon after we returned to our room.

Sunday -Another good breakfast before we relaxed a little before an easy checkout. The ride back was tough on me, felt a bit sleepy until my friend dug out some cookies and chocolate milk from the cooler to keep me awake. Once I put on Critical Role, it became much easier for me to stay awake. -Noticed some grinding when I had to brake during traffic. Turns out my brake pads were in pretty bad shape. Got them fixed this week, but it still cost a LOT. Considering I’ve had that car since 2009, they held up pretty well. -Took a nap as soon as I got home. Had plans with my boyfriend, but we ended up doing something different, but still had a good time with another friend.

Good trip overall. We hope to return next year with more of our coaster-loving friends. We also hope to see our new friend sometime before then! I’d say my first trip to Kings Island was a lot of fun, and a great contrast to Cedar Point, my home amusement park. Sad to say the only things we didn’t hit were Flight of Fear and Firehawk, and we could have done so at the start of Saturday or just after Board to Death, but we all decided against it. Top of the list for next time!

[noonachronicles]

The Right One Pt. 1

Jackson Wang X Reader

Looking through the mirror of the antique vanity even you had to admit that you looked amazing. The hairdresser and makeup artist had both done their jobs well. You’re dress wasn’t slacking either. The corset top with it’s pearl beaded design pushing everything in and up, and the lace sleeves that covered your arms for a hint of modesty. As beautiful as you were and as you felt it didn’t matter, none of this mattered to you. Everyone would tell you how beautiful you were, they would mean it too, despite the unhappiness in your eyes.

The door to the private room creaked open and you looked up from your frown to the unexpected guest.  

“Jackson?” You said impossibly quiet, “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Your father may not like me, but you’re sister is still a fan.” He smiled softly, “You look…so beautiful.”

“You have to leave. I don’t want you to see me like this.” Your eyes filled with tears, it hurt so much to see him in front of you, “If my father finds you here…”

“Come with me.” He said stepping forward, wrapping his hands around your wrists. “It’s not too late, we’ll run away, wherever you want. Just, please, don’t do this.”

“Jackson, please,” your lips trembled, “this is already so hard”

“You don’t love him, you love me.” panic set in his voice. “This is crazy. Your father can’t control your life like this.”

“I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” you whispered, a tear rolling down your perfectly made face.

“Not having you is the worst pain.” Jackson said collecting the tear on the pad of his thumb. “Anything else I can handle, but not this.”  

“Please, just let me do this for you.” several more tears slipped from your eyes. “Please, just go.”

He nodded, knowing very well by now when you were decided on something. He kissed the tears from your cheeks. “One last kiss? Please, can I have at least that?”

You nodded and he tilted his head. His lips felt like home. They were soft, warm, and so familiar. Everything about him fit you, it had the moment you met him. His personality complemented yours. His arms fit around you like a seat belt and they were just as safe. And his lips, his lips fit yours like a matching puzzle piece and together they created the most beautiful picture you’d ever witnessed.

You kept your eyes closed when the kiss ended. You kept them closed as he said goodbye and you stuttered out your own goodbye with trembling lips. You kept your eyes closed as you listened to the door close with a click. You’d keep them closed until all of this was over.

Jackson coming into your life was the kind of situation that could only have happened if every single piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. You didn’t know at the time how grateful you would become that they did just that.  No matter how much pain would eventually come of it all. No matter how much heartbreak and anger. In the end you came to realize that he was worth it. He would always be worth it and you wouldn’t change anything.

Rain was pouring down on the black Mercedes you were sitting in the back seat of. Your driver was humming quietly to himself, but it was still enough that you were annoyed. Anything would have annoyed you at that moment because the guy you had been flirting with for weeks, Jinyoung, was being elusive and avoidant . Again. You pinched the bridge of your nose as a stress headache started to build.

“Can you…” you stopped yourself short of being snappy, not wanting to be rude to Yoonho. He’d been driving you since you were a toddler headed off to your first day of private school. It wasn’t his fault you were annoyed.

“Ma’am?” he said looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“Nevermind.” you muttered and looked back down at your phone with a sigh. After several minutes you looked out of the window and frowned, “Yoonho, where are we?”

“Sinchon, ma’am.” You didn’t say anything further, only scrunched your nose in distaste.

Eyeing the graffiti covered bricks and trash littering the street you wanted nothing more than to be home. Everything looked so bleak and it wasn’t just the rain. However it wasn’t in the cards that you would be so quickly back to comfort. While the car had been stopped at a red light was when the first piece fell into place. A delivery truck with bad brakes slammed into the car, jolting you forward. While the crunching of the back of the car sounded terrible, the damage could have been much worse.

“Ma’am, are  you okay?” Yoonho asked in a panic, shoving the airbag out of his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said holding your neck.

“Stay here. I’m going to check the car and speak to the other driver.” he said and stepped out into the rain.

You turned in the seat and watched through the rain as the two men argued. There was a lot of pointing and hand gestures before the both of them calmed down and exchanged information. Yoonho made a call and took several pictures of the accident before getting back in the car with you.

“It’s going to be awhile, ma’am.” he announced apologetically.

“What do you mean? How long?” you asked.

“We have to wait for the police to arrive to take down the report and have the car towed. Another car will be coming to get you but he said that there was a large accident and that with traffic he’ll be at least a couple of hours.”

With a groan you sunk back into the cool leather seat. Fifteen minutes. That’s how long you lasted before declaring that you were showing signs of cabin fever. You pulled on your wool pea coat and grabbed the umbrella from the seat next to you.

“I am going to find some coffee or something. I can’t sit in this car any longer. I’m sorry, Yoonho.” you said opening the door and shoving your phone in your pocket, “Just call me when the car gets here and I’ll tell you where to come get me.”

Yoonho agreed and you took off down the street. The more you walked around this part of the city the more disgusted you became. It had an overwhelming feel of poverty and decrepitness. You passed several convenience stores and restaurants but none of them measured up to your high standards. Finally after about ten minutes of tromping around in the rain you found an acceptable looking coffee shop.

It was incredibly small but it was warm, dry, and appeared to be safe. After ordering a hot latte you took a seat in the corner and pulled out your phone, still nothing from Jinyoung even though you had messaged him to tell him you were in an accident a half hour ago and he had clearly read the message. Finally you decided to call him instead of waiting any longer.

“Hey.” he said lazily over the line.

“Hey? Didn’t you read my message? I was in a car accident.” you pouted.

He sighed, “You sound fine. You were fine enough to text me about it.”  

“Why are you acting like this? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I’m not being any particular way, just myself.”

“No, you’re being an ass.” you corrected, “When we first met you were sweet and attentive and now after the party… You won’t even talk to me.”

“Listen, I like you-”

“But?”

“No but, I like you. I’ll come pick you up.” he offered, “Where are you? Would that make you feel better?”

“Yes, that would actually.” you smiled, “I’ll message you the address.”

“Cool. See you soon.” he said and hung up.

You quickly pinned your location and sent him the message. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back and leaned back in the chair you were in. It was stained and old but it was at least comfortable.

There was a deep chuckle that interrupted your thoughts. Looking up you realized for the first time that you weren’t the only person in the cafe. In the corner across from you there was a man sitting with a beat up paperback resting on his knee.

You thought he looked well dressed considering the neighborhood. Platinum blonde hair and a strong jaw, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as his rich brown eyes looked down at his book. He had on a black sweater that was tight enough to emphasize his muscular body and a pair of black jeans ripped at the knee. He couldn’t have been laughing at you, there was no reason for it, so you  frowned and looked back down at your phone.

“Did you fuck him at that party?”

You looked back up surprised. This time the stranger was looking right at you. You looked around you, sure that he had to have been talking to someone, anyone, else.

“Yeah, you beautiful.” he said leaning forward in his seat, “Your boyfriend, was the party the first time you fucked?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, exactly.” you said shaking your head, “And that’s incredibly crass of you.”

“You didn’t deny it.” he smirked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, seeing as you’re a total stranger, but yes. That was the night we were together for the first time.” you admitted.

“Well there is your answer, beautiful.”

“Stop. Don’t call me that, I have a name.”

He laughed, “I figured you did, but see, I don’t know your name. All I know about you is that you’re beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the blush that started to bloom on your cheeks. “What did you mean? There’s my answer?”

He took a deep breath and sat back, “I meant, the guy got what he wanted. So he’s not going to try and woo you anymore. He doesn’t need to.”

“That’s not true.” you frowned.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, “You were in an accident and the guy didn’t even care enough to call. You called him and then you only put up a fight for about five seconds. What did he say? He’d pick you up? Now everything is fine and dude is forgiven? He knows he’s got you.”

“Whatever,” you muttered with a sneer, “It’s not your business anyway.”

“No. It’s not.” He said standing up. You sat back further in your chair as if you thought he might attack you. He didn’t, he only slipped his heavy jacket over his shoulders and pocketed his book. “Take care, beautiful.”  

You watched as he dipped out of the cafe and into the rain. Your heart was pounding and your mind was reeling by the time Jinyoung pulled up to the curb. He didn’t even get out of the car. He texted you to tell you he was there and waited, somewhat impatiently, for you to get in. The drive home was silent for the most part. With the exception of the loud EDM playing through the sound system of his BMW despite you mentioning that you had a headache.

He took you back to his place and you sat on the couch for a while just listening to him talk about how his day went. He didn’t even ask you about the accident. While the two of you had sex, you barely felt a thing.  The stranger from the coffee shop and his words refused to leave your mind. You liked Jinyoung or you thought you did. He was wealthy, smart, and handsome which was really your only criteria. Your father knew his father and he already approved of him, even though the two had never met before. He liked you too or at least you thought he did. He had tried really hard to impress you in the beginning but things were just different now.  Maybe you were wrong and he just wasn’t the right one for you.