#in which mike is at death’s door and Will can only watch

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[itsoutrageouss]

Can you do an Eddie x reader angst where reader is a cheerleader that has a MASSIVE crush on Eddie. She asked him out but because she’s a cheerleader he thinks it a joke and mocks her etc

a/n: hey sweetheartss- thank you so fkn much for all the love on my last Eddie post. This is sorta similar but a different scenario- hope you enjoy <3

warnings: kinda mean!eddie in the beginning obv, reader feeling humiliated, super mega fluffy cute ending!!!!

Nice fucking try - e. m.

—☕️

He was never at any of the games- which fair enough, why would he be?

Yet you couldn’t help the disappointment when you scanned the crowd for a specific mop of curls with no luck. You had practiced the fuck out of this routine and yet no one would probably be looking at you- they’d all look at chrissy instead.

It was like this often. You’d search for Eddie, and when you finally caught him, you’d sit and watch his sporadic movements and tales, admiring him from afar. He had sent a couple of sweet smiles your way; that was your only lifeline to him and you being a possibility. You were a cheerleader after all, and you knew how the basket team treated people like Eddie. You knew he probably thought the same of you but you were aching to prove him otherwise.

You had to do something about the way your heart was on fire for him, a bird beating itself to death in a cage, a moth around a lamppost- you couldn’t keep letting it burn until there was only ashes left.

You knew he had his usual hellfire club meeting today, and suddenly the routine you were doing was the least of your concerns- you even stepped on someone’s toes in the process but it didn’t matter. You were going for it. You were gonna give him the sweetest smile and the most sincere smile and ask Eddie Munson on a date, no matter what any of your friends thought. No matter to what depths your social status would go. You would risk it for him, you were head over heels after all.

After changing quickly while ignoring the annoyed look from your friends ‘cause of your routine slip up, you hurried to the hellfire club room.

Rocking back and forth in your converse, you leaned against a locker while fiddling with the strap of your gym bag. No sooner did the door fling open and several members left the room, mainly ignoring you or giving you a suspicious side-eye, except Mike who waved to you, since you knew Nancy. She was one of the few people who you trusted with your feelings about Eddie. When all had left, you stepped inside to see Eddie packing up from the campaign.

You didn’t say anything, heart suddenly in your throat and palms sweaty. The fabric of his white t-shirt was stretching over his back and he reached over the table, not yet noticing your presence.

“Eddie?” You asked softly, but he still jumped at your voice, a few dices clattering to the ground. The room was ominously lit, casting amber shadows over his pretty face.

“Uh, yes?” He asked slightly confused- suspicion already bleeding from his tone. He picked the dice off of the floor and continued to pack everything away while you stood.

“I uhm- well I don’t know if you know my name-“

“- y/n, yeah. I know.” He grumbled, not seeming particularly interested in what you had to say. You tried not to let it defeat the courage that had etched into your skin, dripping on your tongue.

“Was it a good… campaign?” You asked with a weary voice. You had secretly picked up a little starter guide to the dice game Eddie seemed so passionate about, to try and understand him better.

He scoffed. What kind of fucking foolery was the jocks up to now?

He didn’t even bother replying, knowing that wasn’t the reason you were here, was probably a fucking trick question already. You cheerleaders were like little heathens.

When he didn’t reply you felt your face flush in embarrassment- had you said something wrong?

“Okay well uh- I was wondering if,” you stuttered, fumbled over all your words as you kept fidgeting with your bag. The bird in the cage surely almost done for. The moth was growing tired.

“- if you’d like to do something with me sometime? Like hangout? On- on a date or something like that?” You asked. Your voice was breathy and the words came out a lot faster and unsure than you would’ve liked.

Finally he diverted his attention to you, his figure turning torturously slow, a finger raised in the air in front of him. “You’re asking me out?” He asked incredulously. He didn’t believe they would try such an old trick on him.

“Nice fucking tryyyy Princess,” he said loudly, voice dragging out the words- in case any of your friends were on the other side of the door laughing their asses off.

“What, you’d take me out to a nice dinner, laugh at my jokes and let me take you home to my scrappy little trailer? Is that what you want?” He laughed humourlessly, tongue rolling around his cheek while he stalked towards you.

“I- I mean that sounds fine to me?” You tried, voice more unsteady than ever. You couldn’t tell what was happening but the bird and the moth were lying helplessly in your heart and hot tears tickled the corners of your eyes.

“That sounds fine to you? I’m not falling for this shit, little witch. Run back to your friends, will ya?” He didn’t even spare you another glance as he finished cleaning the table and flung his leather jacket on.

You stood motionless, throat bobbing in an effort not to cry. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had completely misjudged you with no after thought- discarded you because of prejudices. You stormed out of the room with a horrible mix of rage and shame washing over you.

—☕️

“Something sick happened when all you little sheep left hellfire yesterday,” Eddie began as he placed his lunch tray drown dramatically. He glared over to the jocks table, surprised to instead find you sitting alone, sulking.

“What’s up?” Dustin asked curiously, biting into his apple.

“Little miss y/l/n tried to ask me out yesterday. Tried to humiliate me- but this mighty fucking game master didn’t fall for it,” he said almost proudly, digging into his lunch.

“Woah she asked you out? Was that why she was outside hellfire?” Mike said, voice borderline serious in a way that caught both Dustin and Eddies attention.

“Yes, so? Was expecting me to waltz right into that little trap,” he scoffed.

“Y/n asked you out? Dude she likes you! Seriously- I heard Nance and her talking about it a couple weeks ago in the car. She’s like over the moon for you, man.” Mike gestured around wildly to punctuate his words and their meaning.

Eddie stopped eating instantly, whatever was in his hand clattering to the tray as he looked over to your hunched figure again- head down, not eating, not talking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- please tell me you’re joking kid.” He tried desperately, looking between Mike and Dustin who didn’t waver at all. “Nope. No joke. Can’t stop talking about you I swear.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands.

A pretty, nice cheerleader had asked him out- had a fucking crush on him and he mocked her like that? Scared her away? The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks as he dragged his palms over his face and through his hair, reliving the whole experience yesterday; how nervous you had been, how you asked him about this campaign.

Before his mind could prepare him more, he jumped from his seat and ran through the cafeteria, nearly stumbling and drawing all eyes to him as usual.

You looked up, throat twisting into knots as you saw Eddie sit, literally, on his knees on the floor next to the bench where you sat in your solitude.

“Y/n-“ he said, almost out of breath. His eyes were so big and soft, so pleading and glossy, it touched your heart despite the way he broke it yesterday.

“Y/n I’m so sorry. I thought you were messing with me yesterday. Thought it was some kind of joke from your friends or- I didn’t- I didn’t know you meant it but Mike-“ he breathed again, pausing. Everyone was looking at the two of you, your eyes wide at his hasty, guilty confessions.

“Hey, hey-“ you said, placing a hand on his shoulder “-lets uh- go somewhere else, hm?” You tried, standing from the bench. He swallowed loudly before looking around.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he breathed. When he looked at you then, he swore there was a gleam of something in your eyes.

It was hope.

You took his warm hand and dragged him out into the hall, ignoring the mocking from where your former friends sat. Where you used to be.

Eddie stuck his tongue out devilishly as you passed them before disappearing into the silent hall with you.

“Hi,” you said then, a soft smile splaying on your lips. It made Eddie’s insides flutter, knowing you were being genuine.

“Hey,” he replied with a huff, a broad grin adorning his features now too.

“I’m sorry-“ he began again but you cut him off quickly; his dramatic cafeteria gesture was enough of an apology to you, and you couldn’t even blame him for thinking like that with you being a part of the cheer squad.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know I don’t seem like the type, but I promise you I- I think I really like you,” you confessed nervously, eyes darting around the tile floor “and I’m not friends with those dickheads anymore. Swear.”

The bird was beating around the cage, wilder and wilder and the moth dances excitedly around the bright burning lamppost.

“So the offers still- its still on?” He asked hopefully. You couldn’t possibly resist those puppy dog eyes he flashed you, the way his hands fidgeted with the rings adorning his slender fingers.

You nodded eagerly, not daring to believe any of this was really happening. “I’m not much for dinners, though” you added. He laughed. A warm sound you could see yourself getting very used to.

“Me neither. We’ll figure something out, hm?” He asked rhetorically, head tilting to the side to peer down at your hopeful face. Your expression made the guilt from yesterday wash away from his conscience, albeit slowly. God you were gorgeous, and he had half a mind to believe he was dreaming in this moment.

“It’s a date, then.” You stated. Before he could reply, you raised to your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently.

A furious red blush crept up on his cheek and neck, his lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s uh- it’s a date,” he smiled, flustered as he squeezed your hand.

So damn gorgeous, he thought.

[steveshairychest]

5 years he's been in hiding.

5 miserable years he's had to go by a different name, wear different clothes and tell a different story to everyone he meets. He's been James, Frank, he thinks he even went by Dustin at one point. He's had long hair, short hair, he's been bald. He had a beard for a while and taught music in a small music store, but he shaved it off after a week because all he saw in the mirror was Wayne, his uncle, his family, the man he abandoned.

For 5 years, he's been everyone but Eddie Munson.

The government told him he couldn't be Eddie anymore.

"Eddie Munson is dead." They told him; they even had the death certificate to prove it. "Don't come back to Hawkins. Keep moving. There are still people looking for you." Was the last thing they said to him before dropping him off with a wad of cash in some town he's never been to before.

He'd asked for the date at the front desk of a motel, and they'd told him April 20th. Eddie had crumbled down to his knees and cried, he'd cried so hard the motel clerk asked if she should call someone, asked if he was alright.

"I'm fine." Was his broken reply. He'd taken the key for his room, curled up on the uncomfortable bed, and didn’t move for days. He wasn't alright. He'd been in a government hospital for what he thought was a few days but was actually over a month and then released into the world like some rehabilitated animal. He didn't get to say goodbye to anyone. Fuck, he didn't even know if they all made it out of the upside down. All he knew was that he was alone. And that he couldn't go home. Ever.

He'd eventually gotten over himself and made some kind of life for himself.

It took him a few tries to find something that stuck, something that felt sort of like himself. Every few months, an ungodly amount of money appears in his bank account. The formal bank statement says it's from an estranged relative. Eddie knows it's not. He knows it's the government's way of buying his silence. His expensive rent and struggle to find a job is the only reason he doesn't send it all back to them.

He's lived in his current place for a year now, which is a new record for him, but he's got no friends. Well, he has acquaintances, people he can laugh with every now and then and go out for drinks with, but no one who knows him. No one who knows why he wakes every night screaming, no one who understands why he flinches when the lights in the bar flicker, why he hates the sound of people cracking their knuckles and why his hands shake whenever anyone mentions the scar on his face.

It's late at night when he's covered in sweat and his throat is raw from screaming awake from a nightmare, that he really misses his friends, his family, the people that he went through hell with. He's not allowed to call them, not allowed to send them letters or visit. He's not even allowed to know how Wayne is doing. It hurts. It hurts so much. He can't even look at himself in the mirror anymore because he's aged, and he's slowly starting to look more and more like his uncle.

But his friends are a little harder to escape, it's like parts of them have found him and are trying to haunt him, trying to remind him that he can't be a part of their lives.

Just last week, he walked by a book store and saw a brand new fantasy graphic novel on display in the window, 'written by Mike Wheeler & illustrated by Will Byers' was displayed on the bottom of the cover in gold letters. He's never bought a book so fast in his life. He's read it front to back 3 times already.

He can't even watch the news in peace because they were doing a news story about a small town basketball player who's made it to the big leagues and is winning everyone's hearts with his skills and bright personality. Eddie had cried and wished he'd been there to congratulate Lucas, wished he could have been there to tell him how proud he was.

Even Nancy is haunting him. Her news articles get delivered to his front door every day in the paper and most of the time the articles aren't even sad, but he cries at his small dining table alone, his breakfast cold and his coffee filled with his tears.

He misses his friends. He misses them so much and it's eating him alive. It feels like he's lying on the ground of the upside down all over again, tiny little mouths ripping away at his flesh except this time it's happening from the inside. Each time he's reminded how far away he is from his friends, a small piece of him is eaten away.

He doesn't know how much more he can take.

And then something odd happens. He gets a postcard and it's addressed to him, the real him; Eddie Munson.

The handwriting is hard to read and some words have been crossed out but the name signed at the bottom of the card pulls a sob from Eddie's throat and has him almost crumbling on his doorstep.

I'm sorry I took so long. I'll see you soon.

From Steve Harrington.

[sundrop-writes]

Ghosting

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you.

Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

Word Count: 3,700

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic contains major spoilers for the film - so if you haven't watched it yet and you're just here for Josh Hutcherson being sad and beautiful (and if you want to watch the film unspoiled) be warned; this fic does use Y/N; this fic is almost pure angst - the beginning is fluffy, but that only exists to make the angst hurt more; this fic does not have a happy ending; hurt, no comfort; this fic has mentions of Mike's past traumas and him having symptoms of PTSD; the reader is a mother figure to Abby; Mike refers to the reader as his 'wife' (in his mind, not in dialogue); Mike is in love with the reader (and it's implied that she knows this/can sense his feelings) but he doesn't get a chance to actually confess to her and they aren't in a romantic relationship at any point during this fic; (uh, kind of spoiler for the fic but this was in the prompt/request) - major character death: the reader character dies after being stabbed by Springtrap/William Afton/The Yellow Rabbit (gotta love fnaf - when a character has that many names); mentions of blood; descriptions of violence - descriptions of the fight between Afton and Mike, descriptions of the reader being stabbed by Afton; Abby is there to witness the reader's death; idk what the other warnings are aside from major angst - this will be an emotional gut punch. Anyway, please enjoy it lmao.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from the song Ghosting by Mother Mother. I was listening to different songs trying to pick a title, and I really like how this one fits. How their romantic love was like a ghost in their lives - not discussed, but felt between the both of them, and after she's gone, she becomes a ghost in his life.

...

Mike woke up to the smell of pancakes. 

Typically, mornings were his least favorite time of day. Seeing as he was the kind of person who didn’t sleep well, didn’t sleep at all, or found himself consumed by nightmares when he did - most mornings, he was too tired to comprehend the world around him. Mornings were a chaotic mess for him as he tried to pull himself back from the brink of insanity while operating his sluggish body with far too little energy until he got some coffee into his system. He came to resent mornings, as for him, they existed only in a dreadful haze. 

And he rarely ate a proper breakfast because of it. Most of the time, his ‘breakfast’ consisted of a large cup of coffee and a few pieces of Eggo waffle that he would snag off of Abby’s plate going out the door as he scolded her for not finishing it all. 

The second that the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food reached his nose, his stomach growled. 

Through the sleepy fog of his brain, hearing voices - multiple voices - coming from down the hallway, he realized that it wasn’t just Abby and some muffled cartoon characters from the TV. 

“Which one?” Abby posed, her voice bright and curious as ever. 

“Personally… I like the red sweater. It matches the red laces in the shoes you picked,” You replied, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sizzling of the pan. 

You were helping her pick out her clothes. Abby would have never wanted Mike’s help on the subject. So often she scoffed at him if he suggested that he could help her put her hair in a ponytail or if he told her that she should put on a jacket if it was cold outside. But she asked you for your advice about clothes because she admired you. She thought you were pretty, as she had told Mike on multiple occasions (not so subtly hinting that he should date you). 

Mike heard footsteps thundering down the hallway as Abby rushed to her room to get dressed, likely carting along the clothes you had helped to pick. He distantly wondered how you had gotten into the house before he was even awake. 

And then, he remembered - a few weeks ago, he had given you a key to his place. 

It was something that had come after he had accidentally locked his own set of keys in the car, his mind jumbled and forgetful after not having much sleep the night before. And with the evening ticking on and the takeout you had picked up for the three of you quickly getting cold in your hands (everyone eager to simply get into the house and eat) - Mike had been hit with the realization that any solutions to unlock the car - the spare key, a metal coat hanger, a phone to call a mechanic - were all locked in the house. 

So he had hoisted Abby in through her bedroom window (after scolding her for not locking it) and gotten her to unlock the front door. And shortly after that, he had given you a house key, because generally, you were better with things like that. 

You were much more organized - your mind a clear, calm palace compared to the chaos that Mike often found himself swamped in. You were someone who worked incredibly well under stress, and that was why Mike valued you so much in his life. Right from a childhood where the two of you had pulled pranks together and he had been copying your homework, to the time he had leaned on you during the initial stress of Garett’s disappearance - up until now. When he was a messy, disorganized adult who still needed you far more than he was ever willing to admit. 

It was just one of the many reasons he admired you so much. You took care of him in ways he couldn’t even put into words. 

He smiled to himself as he heard more of your chatter with Abby. Previously, he had remarked that the key was for ‘emergencies only’ - but he couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about the breach of that rule as he tumbled out of bed. Especially when the smell of bacon also reached his nose as he walked to the bathroom. 

It was when he was pulling on his pants that he glanced at the clock and realized he was already running on the late side. Not too late yet, but he had to put some urgency in his step. He had somehow forgotten to set his alarm, today of all days, when he would be meeting with a career counselor after the disastrous incident that got him fired from the mall. 

He rushed down the hallway struggling with his tie, bringing his usual air of chaos with him. His heart instantly warmed at the sight of you and Abby - you had her sitting at the table, somehow so much more polite and cooperative for you, with a glass of juice beside her plate while you scooped freshly made pancakes onto it. 

“You know, usually when most people break and enter, they don’t make breakfast,” Mike commented, his voice cool and jovial as he grew increasingly frustrated with his tie. 

He thought he was forming the knot correctly, but it kept falling loose in his hands, causing a deep crease across his brows as he frowned at the fabric. 

You giggled at this - both at his words and at his obvious struggle. You put the pan on the counter as you walked toward him, leaving Abby to pick up the bottle of syrup and begin thoroughly drowning her pancakes while you weren’t looking. You knocked Mike’s hands away in that wordless kind of care and began calmly tying his tie. 

“Well, I considered going the traditional route, but there’s nothing worth stealing here.” You remarked, playing off the banter that was only built between the two of you after years of friendship. “Plus, The Breakfast Burglar has such a nice ring to it.” 

“That makes it sound like you steal people’s breakfast.” Abby giggled. 

“I would, if certain little girls didn’t drown their pancakes in syrup.” You replied, not bothering to look over your shoulder at her to know what she was doing. “That’s enough, Abs.” 

She rolled her eyes harshly at this, but put the bottle of syrup down and picked up her knife and fork. 

Mike grinned widely at this. You were more like a mom to her than their own mother ever was. And the fact that you knew her so well and took care of her without question always brought him joy. 

His smile only widened when you smoothed a warm hand down the front of his chest, and he looked down to see a perfectly neat knot in the front of his tie. He felt a tingling swarm of butterflies in his stomach at your touch - something that threatened to spread through him and turn him into a dizzy, lovesick fool. Urgently, he needed to distract himself with something else. 

His eyes shifted over to the side table, and he realized that his keys weren’t where he usually threw them down when he got home. 

“Have you seen my-?” 

Once again, you were two steps ahead of him. More organized than him. 

“Keys.” You said, turning around to the counter and holding the key ring up on your fingers. “Your resume, formatted and printed.” You held up a folder that contained this as well. “Your wallet, and breakfast burrito.” 

You gathered up his wallet and a warm bundle wrapped in tinfoil - his breakfast. The small notion of caring, the fact that you thought ahead to make something he could eat while rushing out the door - it caused that dangerous tingle to overtake his stomach once again. As you crossed the room and placed all the items in his hands, he had the intense urge to lean over and kiss you - he knew the domesticity was crippling. 

You had been his best friend for years, you had helped him take care of Abby for as long as the little girl could remember. You felt more like a wife to him than anybody else ever would. 

And yet, you had absolutely no clue how he felt about you. It would have felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean over and kiss you goodbye before leaving - just like a husband would do with his wife. But the two of you weren’t married. You weren’t even dating. You took care of him because you were his best friend. Because you had always taken care of him the way a best friend should. 

“What would I do without you?” He said, knowing that the pure fondness in his voice could have easily given him away - if he didn’t talk to you like that all the time. 

“Hmm… probably run around naked and starving,” You chuckled, shrugging as you walked back over to Abby and sat down beside her at the table. “Now get going. I’ll take Abby to school.” 

“Have a good day, Abs.” Mike said, wishing his sister well - only to receive a mindless nod in reply before she went back to chatting with you about something, excitedly telling you a story involving one of her imaginary friends while you watched her with absolutely rapt attention. 

He moved toward the door, but he found himself caught up in the sight of you. You were a hero in their little world as you rushed to save one of Abby’s drawings from some syrup that dripped off her plate. When you complimented the picture, she glowed with a smile he hadn’t seen in days. 

That was a huge part of it, too. The love he felt for you that grew more agonizing each day. You brought out all the best parts of Abby, as well as keeping Mike himself from going truly insane. 

For a single moment, he wondered if he should tell you. He wondered if he should just blurt out the words before running out the door, leaving you to simmer in it. Giving you time to think about it - to yell at him about it later. 

It hovered on his tongue. 

I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. 

But when you looked over and saw him still standing by the door, he locked eyes with you, and suddenly it was gone again, swallowed up inside of him like a nasty ache that would live there forever. 

“Go, Mike! You’re gonna be late!” You said, your voice edging with casual laughter. 

You picked up one of the couch cushions and swatted him with it as you walked by to get Abby a paper towel from the kitchen. 

No. He would tell you some other time. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t work up the courage to tell you at all. 

… 

He was going to die. He was going to be killed. 

And he wasn’t going to get the chance to tell you that he was in love with you. 

Strangely enough, that was the one thing Mike was thinking about as he laid on the cold, dirty floor of Freddy Fazbear’s condemned pizzeria. His stomach burned with searing pain as he received another kick from the large, intimidating monster that he knew only as the Yellow Rabbit. 

He was going to die. He wouldn’t get to tell you how he felt. He would never get to see you ever again. 

He was going to save Abby. He was going to make sure that she got out of here, escaped somehow. And you would take care of her. That thought was a singular comfort to him as he felt one of his ribs crack from the metal (poorly disguised by the foam and fabric around the edges of the suit) colliding with his torso.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “I killed your brother, now I get to kill you. Symmetry, my friend!” 

“Get away from him!” 

Mike almost thought that the intense pain had caused him to hallucinate, or that he had hit his head on the floor hard when he had been thrown down - it couldn’t actually be you.

But he heard your voice, fierce and fiery as ever, defending him as you had so many times before. He struggled to get his head up to look, but he caught a glimpse of the Yellow Rabbit as the strange animal collapsed. 

You had picked up one of the chairs, and brought it down over the Rabbit’s head, perfectly imitating something that would have been on Monday Night Raw. Except this was pure wood, not a collapsing chair, and all the pieces that splintered and fell in front of Mike as the Rabbit collapsed were because of the pure force of your hit. The fury of which you defended him and his life. 

“Y/N!” Abby yelled your name from across the room. 

She rushed into your arms as you stepped over the Rabbit’s prone body, and you swept her into a tight hug. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” You rushed to ask, brushing her hair out of her face to inspect for any injuries. 

“I’m fine.” Abby told you. “Mike-” She then turned to her brother, frantic, and pulled away from you to fall to her knees by his side. 

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” You asked, on your knees at his side just as quickly. 

You turned him over on his back, inspecting him for injuries now - definitely not liking what you found. 

Abby held his hand and he grasped it right back, his head still dizzy from the thorough ass-kicking he had just experienced. 

You gasped when you saw blood leaking through his shirt. He grunted in pain when you pressed your hand into the wound, clearly trying to lessen that bleeding. 

“What - what are you doing here?” He croaked out. 

As much as he was thankful for you swooping in and saving him, he wished that you were safe somewhere else. Anywhere but here. 

“Abby left her jacket in my car, and when I went to return it, I saw your Aunt Jane passed out on the floor, and - and, I just had a bad feeling.” You rushed to explain. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here.” 

Mike hadn’t exactly told you the details of what was going on. 

As close as the two of you were, he wasn’t sure if you would be entirely receptive to the concept of Abby being ‘friends’ with robots that were controlled by ghost children, and Mike somehow feeling connected to his own missing… dead brother by being in this place. He had simply told you that his new job was a night shift at a creepy old abandoned pizza place. 

But of course, you were two steps ahead of him. As always. 

You pulled back your hand to inspect the bleeding, and Mike groaned again. 

“Should I call an ambulance?” You asked, and Mike shook his head furiously. 

“No, we have to-” 

We have to leave. You have to leave. You have to get Abby out of here, to safety. 

All of those words dissolved on his tongue as he watched with utter shock. He wanted to scream as a big yellow hand clasped onto your shoulder from behind, and soon, a pair of large rabbit ears rose up from the floor. 

He wasn’t down for the count. 

Before he could speak, before he could move, Mike’s throat became choked as he saw your expression shift from the kind concern that you had worn for him many times - to pain. A brutal shock of your own. 

The Rabbit had shoved his knife into your back. 

A bright pool of red began to form in the middle of your shirt as the tip of the knife just barely poked through the center of your chest. 

“No!” Mike shouted, rushing to sit up despite the pain screaming in his body. 

He put a shaking hand to the middle of your chest as though it mattered, as though he could save you from this. He hated how warm your blood felt underneath his fingers. 

Abby let out a scream beside him. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he felt a pang of guilt that she had to see this. That she would spend the rest of her life trying to get over this. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” The Rabbit mocked him. “It always hurts more when you love them!”  

The Rabbit let out a brutal laugh and then yanked his knife from your back, and you released a sharp breath as the Rabbit shoved you toward Mike, causing you to collapse into his lap in a bloody heap. 

Somewhere far away, in another world, Mike heard Vanessa shouting from the doorway. Maybe he felt some sense of relief, thinking she would shoot the Rabbit down and this would all be over. But as the Rabbit’s attention was drawn away from him, he turned to where you were draped across his lap, the small pool of red on your shirt now soaked into a large puddle as you sputtered and some of that harsh bright red blood came out the corner of your lips. 

“Mike-” You choked out, reaching for him. 

“Tell me what to do,” Mike choked out. 

His mind was miserably blank. He felt your fingers clutching at his bicep, like he held the key to saving you, like he could restore your life - but his mind was screaming and his chest collapsed in on itself. 

You were always the one that guided him. He didn’t have an idea if you didn’t plant it in his head first. 

“Y/N,” Abby sobbed. 

“It-it’s okay.” You told her, struggling, gurgling, choking on your own blood. You took your grip off Mike, extending the hand weakly to her, and she took it. “It’s g-gonna be okay.” 

She let out another harsh sob, and Mike felt his lungs fill with stone. 

“Tell me what to do,” He said desperately, not realizing how thick his own voice was, how close he was to breaking down. He ran a trembling hand over your face, brushing away some stray hairs - he hated how cold you felt to his touch. “Please, tell me what to do.” 

He thought you might suggest some first aid. An ambulance. Tell him where your car was so he could carry you there, cart you away, get you to safety. 

“You-re g-gonna take c-care of her-r.” You told him, shifting your eyes distinctly from him toward Abby, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re gon-na m-make it ok-ay.” 

“Y/N.” Abby cried, thick tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“Abby. You’re gonna b-be s-strong.” You grinned at her - your teeth were covered in blood, and it looked as menacing as it did fond. “You’re g-gonna be good for-r M-Mike, right? My little a-artist.” 

Abby nodded, more tears leaking from her eyes. 

And then, with some gears turning in her head, these words seemingly having triggered some line of thought, she looked up and spotted something across the room. She muttered something about the drawings and leapt up before Mike could stop her. He didn’t have the strength to chase her - he only hoped that she was leaving, escaping while the others were distracted. 

When he looked back down at you, your face was falling more limp, and your shirt was somehow even more soaked in blood. His jeans were wet, and he couldn’t even process why. He pressed a hand to the front of your shirt, trying to cover the wound as you had done with him - his muscles shook even harder when blood gushed out between his fingers and seemed to leak from you harder, as if to spite him. 

“Y/N,” He sobbed, leaning down. He cradled the back of your head and touched your forehead against his own. 

For a moment, he dreamed about putting his lips against your own and bringing you back to life with a kiss. Like some stupid fairytale. 

“Y/N, I-” 

I love you. 

“I - I know.” You croaked quietly, cutting him off. “D-don’t w-waste it on me now-w.” 

He felt the puff of your last breath as it expelled out against his cheek - he felt you go completely limp in his arms. 

“No-” He choked the word off in his throat, swallowing down sobs. 

No. 

He held you tighter against him, and feeling how cold you were, he let out a shuddering howl of a sob. He clasped your lifeless body against his chest - somehow believing that he could use the power of his grief to inject more life back into you. 

The rest of it was a blur. The deadly snap of springlocks, Vanessa shouting at him to abandon you - to abandon your body as the building collapsed in on itself. 

Mike didn’t truly break down until he was scrubbing his blood off your face in the bathroom sink that night. Seeing the red washing down the drain and knowing that it was the last traces of your life he was washing away - that was what truly did it. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there for hours, sobbing more than he breathed, unable to move. 

When his cries finally died down, Abby slowly crept in and asked him how he was feeling. He lied, telling her that he was feeling fine. She raised up a shy hand, offering him one of your sweaters that you had accidentally left on their couch a few days prior. 

He thanked her and then finally peeled himself off the floor. He tried to make pancakes and Abby remarked that they weren’t as good as yours. It felt impossible, but her words made him smile. It was a small, dull smile - but it was a smile, nonetheless. 

A few days later, when he finally fell asleep for the first time after you had died in his arms, it was with that sweater wrapped around his pillow, wafting your faded smell into his nostrils. It was the first time in years that he didn’t dream about Garett. The dream he had about you was just as haunting.

...

A/N: Also, I don't know if Afton's knife would actually be long enough to go through someone's back and pierce out the front of their chest but - one, it's a cool imagery, and two, the knife looks pretty large when compared to the scale of the Springtrap suit hands. Anyway, I don't actually care all too much if it's accurate or not, I had fun writing this lmao.

[whatislife1babydonthurtme]

Things in Stranger Things season 4 (Volume 2) which did not make sense, were forgotten or simply pissed me off.

❗️Spoilers obviously❗️

The whole town was convinced that there was a cult going on and people got up looking for Eddie and seemingly the rest of Hellfire Club because they were convinced it was a cult. Did they just give up? They never showed up again. Also the parents didn't bring this up at the end when everyone was reunited.

Why did Mike believe that the painting was for him and El when he clearly read the letter that said Will was painting it for someone he likes. Additionally, how the fuck did Mike not notice his supposed "best friend" sobbing in the car right next to him? You can clearly see him look in Will's direction but he just doesn't do anything.

Is the police just... dead? Where are they? Why are they not actively going after Jason's crew

Where is Owen? Is he alive? Why did he say that he could get El back in Hawkins in 2 hours tops if the Cali crew said it would take all night to get back, was he gonna call a private jet or something??

Where is the military? They went to that lab and then were never heard of again.

When Nancy was Vecna'd, she was in the laboratory. Why???? She had nothing to do with that place. Why wasn't she robbed from facing her own fears and traumas at the start of volume 2? Also when she got stuck in front of those doors which were blocked off by planks, they were push doors. Why did she rip off all of those planks if she could've just pushed the door and crawled in between those planks. Maybe I'm getting something wrong here but that just seems like such a hard thing to miss while writing the script...

Why did only Jason and his buddy go to Lucas and Erica when he had a whole team? Were the other guys just watching tv?

Vecna survived being transported to another reality and being hit by lightening so much that his skin peeled off, but can't handle Steve and Robin throwing a molotov at him? Or a shotgun? Really?

Did they leave Eddie's body in the upside down? Why is nobody mourning him besides his uncle and Dustin? I thought Mike, Lucas, Steve, Nancy, Robin and even Erica cared.

So El can bring people back from the dead now? That's not telekinesis, that's Mary Sue magic. What's next? She can share her powers with anyone she wants and then they can make people fly with the jerk of a wrist?

We still don't know why the upside down is stuck on the moment Will was taken. With the way this was brought up in volume 1 it really seemed like this would be answered in volume 2. But of course not, because Will Byers just kept getting sidelined in every way possible.

How come it was leaked that 5 people would die in volume 2 but the only important characters who died were Brenner (papa) and Eddie. Max died but she was brought back to life because apparently Eleven can do that now. That's not 5 is it? Or did they count the people in that helicopter who were trying to shoot Eleven?

Were we supposed to care about Brenner's death???? With how the cemra kept focusing so much on him? I was glad to watch him go!!

The timeskip of 2 full days in the middle of the climax???? Wtf was that??????

Mike being a complete asshole to Will these past 2 seasons was just for no reason then? He is JUST an asshole??

Were Robin, Nancy and Steve just choking on those vines for like 15 minutes or was the time where Eleven struck Vecna actually a lot shorter than that?

They actually forgot Will's birthday, I hoped they were just joking but they really forgot. He was the only character with a canon birthday within the series (until they talked about Dustin's) but clearly they care so little about Will that his entire existence is forgotten.

Wasn't the upside down toxic? Why is everyone just fine inhaling the shit?

The queerbait. No, gay people didn't bait themselves. Netflix, the Duffers, and the actors were actively promoting Byler and hyping up Will's sexuality when in reality Byler is just doomed, not just as a romance but as friendship as well. And Will did not explicitly come out to anyone. People are STILL in denial that he's gay and that's exactly why you make characters come out instead of keeping it "up to interpretation wink wink"

Will calling Mike the heart of their group yet Mike's the one who broke their party up the most.

Mike saying he instantly fell in love with Eleven when they met, as if he didn't tell her to shut up, go away and stop being weird back then.

Mike saying his life started on the day he met Eleven, the same day Will went missing, in his face. When Mike said before that the best thing he had ever done was befriend Will in kindergarten.

So did Vecna create the Mind Flayer or did it already exist? Cause if Vecna created it that's so goddamn lame and it adds no new mystery.

The continuous stereotypes and suffering/deaths of outcasts, poor people, queer people and people of color. One black character plays basketball and the other is a sassy one-liner. The brown guy is a funny weed man with barely to no relevancy to the plot. One lesbian gets a lazy background ship with a girl who is an exact copy of herself and the gay character is living in a painful unrequited love story and used as fuel for the main straight couple, without even being given a canon coming out scene. All this while the straight couples get together and have tons of moments together. Eddie who is poor, is seen as a cultist, dies and nobody besides 2 people mourn his death. Max, another poor character who had already lived through trauma and abuse, dies, gets brought back to life, is now comatose, probably crippled, and maybe permanently blind.

Will's endless suffering. He just can't ever be happy can he? Wtf is wrong with the writers...

Did the Russian crew just end up at Hoppers cabin like that in 2 days? No problems whatsoever? Wow that's convenient.

Hopper hugs Mike but not his new stepsons?

Not one, not two, but three jokes about Hopper once having been fat because he's lost weight in the prison.

Comments had some great additions and I came up with some more too so here's more:

Nobody showed up to Lucas' game when he had a very valid reason to want to play, and it was never brought up again. They all stood him up.

Eddie's death was so rushed and predictable. I saw it coming as soon as he said his whole "I'm a coward I run away I'm not a hero" speech. It's typical "I'm a coward so I'll die a hero" foreshadowing which is overused and just horrible. And in the end he didn't even save anyone, it was completely unnecessary. Eddie deserved to live.

Eleven not being able to win the final fight until she got validation from her boyfriend. Why was she not allowed to do this by herself?

The military watching the pizza van drive off and then do nothing about it? I thought they were experts at tracing and tracking, but nope, they just gave up after Eleven escaped the underground lab.

Just the Cali crew being sidelined so much when they once were such interesting characters (besides Argyle)

Steve saying he always loved Nancy and never moved on despite him telling Robin in season 3 that he didn't like her anymore. Let Steve move on and stop having Nancy jump from boy to boy, hurting them both in the process.

Just a nitpick but the sound design was so overly dramatic at times? Like Brenner LITERALLY snapped a pencil and the sound design was like ☄️💥🔥

Tell me what I missed cause I'd love to add it on this shit list.

[starfirewildheart]

Scars and Souvenirs

Chapter 19

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,206

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assault.

Chapter 19

~~~I was in the hospital for the last 6 days. I had hoped I'd have loads of time to write but in reality I spent that time being a human pin cushion, being sick from meds or having tests. Thanks for being patient with me!~~~

Sy paced impatiently back and forth in the small observation room as he watched Mike through the two way mirror. He'd argued Mike's plea to Walt and the attorneys and they finally relented, though of course there was a cost. Mike wouldn't be allowed to testify at trial after this but they all understood why he needed to do this. He also wanted to do this without Sy or Walt in the room so the compromise was using an interrogation room so they could be close by and see them at all times. He just hoped Mike got the answers he was looking for.

~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

Mike looked up when the door opened. A deputy led Mitch Holmes into the room and cuffed him to the metal ring in the center of the table then left again. Another man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase entered. “As agreed on, there will be no recordings, nothing said will be admissible under any circumstances, for anything.  I want it to be known that my client is doing this as an act of kindness and can stop at any time he chooses.” He looked at Mike then at the two way mirror where he knew Walt and Sy were before closing the door and leaving father and son alone while he joined the others behind the glass. 

“Are you OK? I was worried when I heard what happened to you.” Mitch was laying it on thick acting like father of the year. “I can't believe the court let you get involved with that damn man and woman who got you hurt!” He had no idea how much Mike had been told about his involvement in what happened but since he wanted to visit him he doubted that he knew much. Now was time to try and throw Sy and Deb under the bus. If he could get Mike to hate them then he might have a chance with the court. 

“Y..you were worried about me?”

“Of course I was! I should never have agreed to let them take you.”

“The court agreed, not you,” Mike reminded him.

“I've always told you that the court don't give a shit about us and that nosey assed cop neither!” Mitch complained. 

“So, do you have anything you want to ask me?’ when Mitch looked at him like he'd grown a third head he continued. “You've spent your time talking about and blaming everyone but not a single word about you or even me. Why is that?”

“I was talking about how they let you get kidnapped and hurt, Mike. You.. you're not still mad at me over boxin’ your ears when you drank my whiskey are ya? Cause you deserved that,” Mitch shook his finger at him.

Mike shook his head to clear it wondering if he'd somehow ventured into some alternate dimension of crazy. After a few minutes something dawned on him. Walt and Sy had told Mike that Mitch had been held in isolation since being arrested and the only thing he'd been told about Mike was that he'd been rescued and was alive. Mitch had no idea that Mike knew it was him that sold his son to the gang. Sitting up straight Mike leaned closer to the table. “You're a worthless junkie who couldn't pay off his debts so instead of dealing with it like a man, which you aren't, you SOLD me to them! You sold me for the cost of your own fucking habits KNOWING  what they were going to use me for.” 

“You don't talk to me like that!” Mitch snapped.

“Or what? You gonna hit me some more,  Mitch?” He let the sound of the last two letters in his name draw out. “That will never happen again.” Mike stood up and paced around the small room successfully making Mitch antsy and uncomfortable before coming to a stop facing the mirror in front of where Sy was standing on the other side. “When I started trying to arrange this meeting wanted to talk to you about a lot of stuff because I was going to demand answers. The moment I saw you though I realized you would never tell me the truth about anything. You would try to manipulate me to get what you want but nothing more.” He turned to face Mitch. “That being said, what I do want to say,” he sat down and leaned on the table. “I just wanted to say that I hope your prison stay is everything you deserve it to be and I have some friends now that will help me make sure that your cell mates know that you're available to work off your own debts now. Granted I'm sure you won't bring the same price I would have but they will just have to whore you out twice as much.”

“You little fuck!” Mitch growled and tried to lunge for him. Mike was much too fast and moved out of reach.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Geralt watched intently as the doctor force bent Debbie's knee, ready to jump in if he felt he needed to but the woman was tough. There were tears in her eyes and she had his hand squeezed so tight he could hear the bones creak but she did exactly what she had to do.

“I'm impressed with how well you're doing. Incision is healing nicely and I'm going to start your physical therapy this week. Once they get your leg strength built back up…”

“You're going to do another surgery and then I start all over?” She interjected. 

“Not all over but re-healing, yes. Remember it is going to be a long road but we will get there!” 

“I'll get there…” She mocked as the door shut behind him, throwing a roll of tape in frustration. 

Geralt arched his brow at her and tisked but had to bite his lip when she blushed at his mild scolding. The nurse came in and fit a new brace on her leg. It was shorter and had locks so that she could start to bend the knee slowly and not cause damage. Finally, after setting up physio, the next doctor appointment and getting blood work done they made it out to the truck to head home. “Hungry little one?”

“Starving,” She nodded. 

“Pizza, burgers, Mexican, Chinese?” He listed off nearby options. 

“Chinese,” her stomach growled loudly.

When they were seated and placed their orders Deb sipped on a soda then twirled the straw in the bubbly liquid. “You and Sy are really close. He always talked about you but now that we've met on person I can tell the feelings are mutual.” Geralt took a drink of his water waiting to see where this was going. “None of you have girlfriends. Why?”

“A few of us have had in the past. Napoleon often has a female companion but not for long periods. Will has a girl back where he calls home.” 

“You don't agree with attachments though? You think they are an exploitable weakness.” She looked  down at her plate. 

He pondered carefully before answering.  “I think anything that we love or care about has the potential to be used against us. If the person is evil enough or ruthless enough they will exploit anything.”

“I don't want to be a weakness,” She sighed softly.  “I already have been though, for all of you. He called you to help him but if not for me he wouldn't have needed to.” 

“Don't do anything stupid,” he leveled his eyes at her.

“I'm not, i.. I just don't want to be a reason he gets hurt. I want to be an asset not a burden.” She munched a spring roll. 

~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

Sy stretched his back as he walked through the barn with Mike. It had been a crazy day that started with them and their attorney arguing with Mitch's attorney on whether or not Mike could even see him. Once they met most of Mitch's demands, around four in the afternoon, then it was finally 

tiime for the meeting. “Did you get what you wanted out of the meeting?” He asked Mike.

Mike scratched Rose's snout and neck. “I wanted him to explain why he would do all this to me? Why does he hate me so much that he would sell me to someone who was going to pimp me out? Why?” His voice rose as he turned to face Sy. “What about me is so fucking broken that….” He choked up and spun to the left punching a wall in frustration. 

Sy went to him and pulled him into a hug but quickly let go when Mike fought against it. “Kid you're not the one who's broken, he is. Your old man has an addiction but it's more than that. Mitch is,” he struggled to find the right words. “He's a monster. He is the one who disappointed you, who let you down.”

“No one else ever saw that.” Mike demanded.

“Because it's true,” Sy stood firm. 

“And what about Debbie and everything that happened to her because of me?” He yelled. “She nearly died because you both tried to help me!”

“What? Mike, no, that wasn't your fault. You and Deb both got caught up in something that you had no control over. You didn't do this to her anymore than she did it to you.”

“They took us because Mitch sold me!”

“Walter pulled Deb and I in on the gang case. We got involved knowing the risks, kid. You two happened to be together so they took you both. Your old man set it up, sure but they took her hoping to get information about our investigation.”

“He's right,” Deb said as she limped over to them on her crutches. When they pulled up they saw Sy's truck by the barn and stopped. “Truth be told, we all try to protect each other from bad stuff and sometimes end up making it worse. Sy was working with Walt and shut me out of the investigation trying to protect me. On my end all I saw was him secretly texting and calling some random woman, sneaking off to meet her in secret. Instead of talking to him about it I threw myself into my work which got me involved with the corrupt detective. I convinced myself that what Lindy said about me not being enough for Sy was true and was trying to distance myself so it wouldn't be such a shock when he left me.” It was the first time she'd said some of that out loud. Sy was looking at her like she was from Mars and Mike looked like he wanted it to be true. “I don't even pretend that I have all the answers any more because the truth is that I'm more worried now than ever but the few things I do know, I'm sure of. Love gets you hurt whether it's unintentionally or not. Loving someone makes you a point of weakness for them and leaves them open to getting hurt. What is the alternative? We've all found each other and formed bonds which I think we are weaker without. If we run away from each other then we're vulnerable and will do anything to find each other.” She scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration.  “I can't make you believe the truth any more than I can force you to stay here if you're determined to leave. None of this was your fault and I hope you believe that, Mike.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, “and we want you here.”

Everything broke through Mike's walls at once and they crumbled. He wrapped his arms around Deb and buried his face against her shoulder and neck as the dam broke and he sobbed. He sobbed for his past, his childhood, his asshole father, his mom that left him and all the shit that happened recently. He cried until he had no tears left. He felt Sy's arms around him as well, helping comfort him. When the tears finally stopped and his heart rate came back down he felt completely drained. They must have been standing there for quite awhile because his legs were aching and going numb. 

The three of them headed back to the house. Mike was so drained he went to lay down for a nap before dinner. Debbie headed to the kitchen and grabbed her pain pills tossing a couple in her mouth then going to the fridge to get some water to rinse them down before bending down to try and grab an ice pack from the freezer. Sy's big hand reached in front of her and got the pack.

“What did the doctor say?”

She told him everything as they went to set on the sofa. It didn't take long between the exhaustion and the meds that she fell into a fitful sleep.

Tag List

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

@liecastillo

@mollymal

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 5, Prompt: Role Model (and Brave if you squint)

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

“Will’s out of practice, but I think he’s excited to play again,” Mike says, sliding Eddie’s worn D&D notebook across the small hospital bed tray. “You know, when you’re up for it, of course. I mean, one of us could DM me or Will, I mean, but we’re not as good as you.” 

“Who told you flattery works on me, Wheeler?” Eddie jests, grinning up at him from his hospital bed. “Yeah, yeah, of course, I’ll DM something for you sheep. It’ll give me something to do in here while those government people work their cover-up magic.” 

Eddie watches as a smile takes over Mike’s entire face, eyes crinkling in the corner. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the kid so happy before. And all over a game. They really are nerds, aren’t they? Before Mike has time to give his input, something Eddie knows he is gearing up to do because he always has input, there’s a knock on the closed hospital door. 

“Mike?” Nancy calls as she cracks the door open. “There you are. The boys are looking for you. Something about a vending machine?” 

“Oh, shit,” Mike swears, eyes wide. 

“Duty calls?” 

“Yeah, we’re trying to bride the guy in charge of stocking the machine on Max’s floor to give us snacks for free,” he says, walking backward towards the door. “I’ll bring you back something if our mission is successful.” 

Eddie places a request for a Milky Way and a bag of chips, which Mike mentally notes before disappearing into the hallway. Nancy’s about to head out behind him, already pulling Eddie’s door shut when he calls out to her. 

“Got a minute, Wheeler Senior?” 

Nancy hovers in the doorway, nose turned up. “Only if you promise never to call me that again.” 

Eddie laughs, mimes crossing his heart as best he can earning a shake of Nancy’s head. Still, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her before making the short trip to his bedside. 

“How are you doing?” she asks, eyes scanning him from head to sock-covered toes. 

“Now that I’m finally awake, I just, uh, wanted to properly say thank you,” Eddie says, wincing as he tries to adjust his position in the bed. It’s already raised to a seated position, but he’s still not comfortable. His torso burns and the wires hooked up to him clink against the bed frame and it’s hell, but if he doesn’t adjust himself soon his foot is going to fall asleep and the only thing worse than getting nearly mauled to death by bats in a hell dimension is the feeling of pins and needles in his feet. 

“Thank me?” 

“Oh, don’t play coy, Wheeler. You saved my life,” Eddie says, finally settling on his side. “Henderson told me how you took over carrying me back after Harrington’s own wounds got the better of him. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course, I had to do that! I wasn’t going to let you die down there.” 

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. I mean, I almost got us all killed.” 

“You— what?” Nancy asks, eyes wide in confusion. Reaching behind her, she grabs the spare chair (the one Wayne’s been sleeping in every chance he gets) and drags it towards the bed. The legs screech against the linoleum tile, but it doesn’t seem to phase her. “You saved us, Eddie. Saved Dustin, definitely.” 

“Tell that to his fractured leg.” 

Nancy shakes her head and reaches for his hand that doesn’t have an IV needle shoved into it. She looks at him with a face of determination. One not unlike the face she had when she explained their plan two weeks ago in the stolen Winnebago. This is Nancy on a mission. Except, Eddie’s not sure what the mission is this time. 

“Stop,” she says, squeezing his hand. “Just stop, okay? You didn’t fail us or whatever you think you did. You kept Dustin safe. You bought us more time. I would have liked it if you didn’t use your body as bait.” She glances at his exposed arms, wrapped in gauze, some already bloody again. “But you did what you had to do. We all did what we had to do. And we’re alive. That’s all that matters.” 

“Yeah, but I—“

“No,” she scolds, glaring at him this time. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t get to downplay what you did or think you’re some— some fuck up. Because you’re not. You are a hero. A brave hero! And I won’t let you say those things about yourself, especially not when Mike could overhear you. You’re his role model, you know?” 

It hurts to laugh, but it bubbles out of him anyway. It’s not the happy kind of laughter, though. It’s of the unamused variety. The kind of laughter he’s used at aiming at Jason and the rest of the jocks in the Hawkins High cafeteria. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Wheeler. M’not that kid’s role model.” 

“You are, though,” she says, doubling down. “Mike never shuts up about you. He was miserable this summer when the Byers moved, and he realized he was starting school without his best friend and girlfriend. I swear he almost jumped out of my car on that first day of school. So imagine my surprise when he climbed in the car at the end of the first day with a genuine smile on his face.”

“All I did was give him a place to eat lunch.” 

“No, you gave him so much more than that. Mike’s always had friends, sure, but he’s never had a role model. Not like the others do. I mean, Dustin has Steve, which is weird. but it somehow works. Will has Jonathan. Lucas has his dad. But Mike? Mike’s always sort of floundered in the role model department. I mean, you’ve seen our dad. He doesn’t exactly get Mike.”

“What? And I do?” Eddie asks, still not entirely buying Nancy’s words. Though, he should know better than to doubt Nancy Wheeler. After all, this is the girl who has guns, plural, in her bedroom. 

“Yeah, you do. More than either of you realize.”

Eddie considers that for a moment. Thinks about the way Mike’s cheeks have always turned the slightest shade of pink in his presence. The way he always, always found a way to bring up Baby Byers in conversations. The memory is hazy, but he remembers watching him in those first few hours he woke up from the coma. Mike reaching for Will’s arm when Eddie’s eyes fluttered open.

And then he thinks of himself. The lingering glances he’s snuck in the hallways. The flirtatious jabs he threw Steve’s way when he was running for his life, sure he was going to die. 

Once again, he’s left stunned by Nancy. Though, really, he should have seen this one coming. She is a journalist, after all. It’s her job to be observant. 

“Alright, fine,” Eddie concedes. “Maybe I’m Mike’s role model. But if I’m being straight with you, Wheeler. I don’t think I’m going to be any good at the job.” 

“You’re already good at the job,” she says, squeezing his hand once last time before pulling away. “Just keep it up. And you know, get better so you can play that damn game of yours.” 

“You know, there’s always room for more players at the table.” 

Nancy laughs as she peels herself off the chair. “You’re funny, Eddie. Unfortunately, I’ve got a real battle to get ready for. Not to offend, but I prefer to take on the monsters in real life now.” 

He shakes his head, smiling fondly as Nancy makes her way to the door. “You know, if anyone should be Baby Wheeler’s role model, it’s you.” 

“Yeah, well, Mike’s still a stupid teenage boy,” she shrugs. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

Eddie salutes her before letting out an embarrassing yawn. Nancy muffles a laugh into her head before reaching for the door. “Hey, Eddie,” she says, glancing over his shoulder. Eddie hums, eyes already drooping. “For what it’s worth, you should also maybe stop being so hard on yourself when it comes to Steve. You’re good for each other.” 

* * * 

Eddie’s woken from his brief nap a few minutes later by Steve. “Was that Nance I saw leaving your room?” he asks, dumping an armful of vending machine snacks onto the hospital bed tray. The shitheads must have had a successful mission, after all. 

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie nods, dazed from being woken up and also the reality of Nancy’s final words to him finally hitting him. 

“Oh, no, I know that look,” Steve says, collapsing in the chair previously occupied by Nancy. He kicks his feet up on the edge of Eddie’s bed and tears into a bag of Doritos. “She gave you one of her ‘cut you to your core’ Nance speeches, didn’t she?” 

Eddie just nods. 

“Shit, I’ve been there,” Steve says, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “It sucks in the moment, but let me tell you. Eventually, you’ll realize she was right all along and thank her. Nance is never wrong.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, stealing a glance at Steve. “I’m never doubting her ever again.” 

[persage]

RIGHT HERE (to hold you when the sky falls down) - S. HARRINGTON

Summary: After your father's death Steve Harrington is the only one who can calm you down.

Steve Harrington x Newby!Reader

Words Count 2.7 k

Masterlist

Tags and Warnings: Newby! Reader Angst and Grieving with comfort.

"We must go back in there!" Your voice trembles as you look at people in front of you, a group of familiar faces who now seem strangers to you. You run a hand through your hair in desperation. They don't look at you, turning away with sorrow and shame, they don't have the courage to face you, to just stand there watching you as your whole world shatters. They would give everything to change the past, but they can't. What rises in your chest is a blind rage from which you would like to spare the kids: Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max are watching you with shining teary eyes and you think they shouldn't be there, seeing you like this, but you can't stop, you can't contain the emotion, the burning anger towards the world, the denial.

"WE MUST GO BACK IN THERE!" You scream, this time your voice is so high it scares the kids, Nancy and Jonathan in the kitchen stop talking and Steve, leaning against the doorway, gaze flickering between you and Hopper, walks in your way, stopping a few steps away as you move your hands in the air, punching some invisible force, searching for a way to accept such a great pain. In another era, when things were still in their place, he wouldn't have stopped, he would have run to you and would have held you tightly because he knew with certainty that he would have helped you and you would have wanted him to. But now everything has changed and Steve doesn't want to hurt you or be inappropriate. Also, he is ashamed to admit it, he doesn't want to be rejected.

Joyce is the one to talk first, she runs to you, she tries to hug and you let her do so cause you care about her and you love her as your own mom. "He's gone baby, he is gone I'm sorry honey, I'm so sorry." She whispers. You shake your head, your face hidden in the woman's chest as you start crying hard. It isn't true. It can't be. You dad isn't dead, the good ones don't die in the end, it's the rule of all the stories he has told you since you were little. Superheroes don't die. He can't be gone. He had a reason to come back, he wouldn't have left you this way. He is the all you've got. There must be another reason why Joyce is crying too, why Bob isn't the one hugging you right now, why he wasn't in Hopper's crowded car when they have retunerd from the lab. Maybe they think he is dead but he isn't, he needs help, he is just hurt and he needs help and they have left him.

You wouldn't have. But you weren't there.

"I need to go" You say, pushing Joyce away and moving just a few steps before Hopper blocks you, grabbing you by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, kid" Hopper murmurs as you still try to free yourself from his grip. "Let me go you bastard!" You shout, shaking violently.  He has left your dad to die. As Jim continues to hold you tighter you let yourself fall on the floor. "I have to help him, let me go to him." You cry "I have to be with my daddy, I want my dad" By now you are on the ground, your hands in front of your face, your body caught in uncontrolled sobs. Joyce joins you. "I want my dad" You Repeat. Steve's heart breaks at hearing you repeat this phrase like a frightened child and he feels his eyes pinch because he knows what bond you and Bob had, he knows that your father was all the family you had left.

"It's all your fault" You say, it hits Mrs. Byers like a bullet in the chest.

You take in a deep, shuddering breath glancing around as the nerves in your stomach came to a head, and you try to regain control on yourself. You turn to the kids, as you slowly get up from the ground. "I'm sorry kids, I didn't mean to scare you." You walk slowly towards the door, feet heavy like two boulders, a void in your chest that seems to suck you in. Jonathan silently stands between you and the only way out of that stuffy house full of memories. You look at him with bright red eyes. You never got along, especially cause not so long ago you were a part of Tommy H, Carol 's group for and never cared about the weird Byers, but since your parents started dating you have become something similar to friends.

"Let me go, Byers. I swear to... "

"I can't let you go back there" He replies, interrupting you with sadness written all over his face. You understand that he would like to hug you and he understands that this is not what you want now. You're grateful for it. You need to be alone. A hand rests on your shoulder, squeezes it lightly. You don't turn around, you don't need to look to know who he is. You could recognize his touch everywhere, after all you have loved him since you were a child. These hands have been your support for years, then they stopped being - he've changed, you hasn't, things like this happen all the time. You loved him, he loved another. That happens too - but they won't back down this time either. "I'll take care of her. " Steve Harrington says. Jonathan nods, still not convinced. Steve's fingers on your back push you towards the air you need, even though you feel like you won't be able to breathe like before.

Your father is dead after all.

They say that every family has its own traditions, the little Newby family not many to be honest, but if there is something that no one could ever take away from you it was the pizza and couch night with Bob, the only day of the week when you gave your father the permission to eat on the sofa, in front of the TV, watching some movie rented from Family video that 90% of the time you didn't even like. Those were the best evenings and also the only ones in which you could sleep well, surrounded in the warm embrace of your father. He was the only man in the world who could stop your nightmares. Probably if you had taken courage and went to his room in the nights of terror, your nightmares would have subsided long ago, but you were no longer a child and above all you didn't want to scare him more than necessary. Bob didn't have to know how sick you had been since you found out the truth about Will and what happened to him, ever since you had realized that the monster you miraculously escaped from a year ago - and everyone convinced you didn't exist - came from that same upsidedown where Byers was kept. In short, you didn't want Bob to know, also you felt old enough not to be afraid, or to die from lack of sleep alternatively. Now you would give everything to confess your fears to your dad, to sleep with him, to feel safe in his arms again.

Pizza evenings started when you were 10, when only two people were left on a sofa for three. Bob was sitting with his pizza that had even fallen on him and soiled the cushions. "Mom doesn't want you to eat there." You said. Bob laughed, inviting you to join him. "We won't tell her love." It took you a while to realize your mother wasn't coming back. Madlin Newby had chosen another path, family was not for her. So you clung to Bob hard on those evenings, scrambling over his body to make sure that at least that parent wasn't going to get snatch from you. Bob has always tried to make the situation lighter and more bearable for you. "Mom is tired of me not of you, she loves you so much and you can see her whenever you want" He always told you.

One day when you were fourteen, Steve Harrington joined your pizza nights. It happened once a month, a kind of tradition too, but he - stupid kid - was ashamed of people knowing because yes, you were slowly joining his group of friends and yes, your mothers had been friends when they were young, but you were a Newby, and being a Newby made you the bottom rung of the ladder anyway, even in the cool group. Steve Harrington would now like to punch himself in the face, he would also like to actually cry because your dad was a great guy and always treated him well, more then he acutally deserved. At least until he saw you suffer for him, of course, but even in that case, he always reserved sweetness and respect for him. Your father was a man of gold and he has raised his daughter the same way. Steve looks at you as you walk in front of him. He've always believed that Nancy Wheeler has changed him, the truth is that you did it first and maybe, if you hadn't taught him to look beyond the superficial aspect of things, he wouldn't have had the courage to ask her out.

As you go out, the cold air hit you with a sharp sting. It's a welcomed feeling for a moment, it dulls your screaming mind which seems to be about to explode. It comes back soon, a moment later, harder and more painful than before as Steve close the door behind him. You just stand there, watching the boy, looking for something to keep you on earth cause you feel like you will start floating soon. Like you are not anchored here anymore.

Your dad is gone.

You took a step away, legs shaking. You put a hand on your mouth, to stop yourself from screaming. You are collapsing on the ground again and before it happens Steve is running to you, hugging you tightly, keeping you up on your legs. His embrace is warm, strong, it feels like being between the walls of the safest place in the world and you let go on him, screaming till your lungs burn while he caresses your head. "I'm here, I'm here" He repeats as you grab his jacket like your life depends on it. And maybe this isn't so far from reality.

"I want to go to the lab Steve." You cry. "I want to go to him, I wanna see his body... Dad" You voice breaks and even Steve can handle it anymore. His hearts breaks for you and a little sob escape his lips. But he stops. He can't be weak, not when you need him the most. "Baby you can't go there... It's dangerous"

"But I need to save his body" And Steve doesn't want to tell that probably there's no body left to be saved. He continues caressing your head and he kisses your forehead.

"I can't let you go there Y/n. I can't" He repeats. "Also Bob wouldn't want it. He probably would kill me if I let you, you know?" And Incredibly you let yourself go in a little laugh through tears while you move away from him just enough to look at his face. Your eyes are shiny and puffy, your face is red and Steve just wants to erase your pain. He wipes your tears away with his thumb while stammering you reply. "Dad likes you Steve, oh, he also hated you at some point I'm not gonna lie. I did all the bullshit in my life with you. Or for you."

Steve smiles. "Let's not give him any more reasons to be angry with me."

" He also knows that you saved my life more than once." You continue, trembling, this time for the cold. Steve realizes this and quickly takes off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders and pulling you back to him, his head on yours. You cry again, this time it's a calm and resigned cry.

"There will be no body to save. Right?" He doesn't reply, he hugs you more. Then he looks at you and gently kisses your forehead, eyes and nose. You let yourself go to that sincere affection, the only presence you can tolerate by your side now. "You know, I went at Radio Shack the other week" Steve tells as you both sit down, his arm on your shoulders to keep you warmer. "I wanted to get my TV fixed and your dad was there"

How many times have you walked through that door? Your dad always working on something with his gentle hands, so dedicated to his work, so passionate. Your heart aches at the memory.

"He was so gentle to me, asking about you know my parents and my plans and... I ended up in there for two hours talking about you and about... Jonathan. He wanted to have a good relationship with him so bad. I feel like I am the worst person in the world to give advices about Jonathan Byers but he still listened to me for hours and... He told something about you too."

"God he knows how to embarrass me" You laugh a little. Steve notices you're still using the present while talking about Bob and it kills him.

"He told me I've hurt you by....disappearing from you life last year but... He told me that if I... If I.. If I retrace my steps, if I still want to have you in mine, you would forgive me. Because you are good, because you are special.And I believe that at least on these last two things he was not wrong."

He doesn't tell what Bob also said, it's a secret Steve wants to keep in his heart. My daughter has the biggest heart in the world. And without nastiness Steve, I know you're a good guy, but I don't know if you would ever be able to treat it with the care she deserves. Please don't hurt her again.

And Steve doesn't know if he's able to have this cure now, after all things with Nancy are confusing and he's managed to screw everything up with her and he definitely still has feelings for her. He doesn't want to hurt you and aven if he knows he will always feel something for you, he also knows he's willing to bury the feeling. Steve will protect you from himself until the day he will be worth for you. He has promised it to himself.

He has promised it to Bob.

"Jesus. He is always so right and about the other thing it's true... I have forgiven you a long ago." You stole a glance over to Steve, watching as he smiles a little.

"I wish I had a dad like him" Steve states. There is something so endearing and painful about that statement that it brakes again something in you. You let out another sob, clapping a hand over your mouth the instant it leaves you. You don't wanna be so fragile and so waek but can't help it. Steve wraps his arms around pulling you in towards him. You bury your face into his neck, fingers pressing into his back as your whole body wrackes with another sob. "I've got you," he murmures, he holds you tight, his one hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. "I've got you" he repeates once more. "I'll be there for you Newby, I'll do it forever." The sobs slows down after a while, it feels like you don't have tears to cry no more just anger and sadness and a void that you will never be able to fill. And the rational part of you can't help but think what will happen to you since your mom lives so far away, only God knows where. Tears dries on your cheeks. Steve is still holding you, still murmuring soft comforts into your hair as you lean against him.

"I promise it will get better" he whispers as you starts to pull away a little. Your arms fall from him. He regardes you carefully as you give a sharp nod.

"I wanna kill them all" you say, your voice weak despite the angry look in your eyes. "I wanna fight Steve. I wanna learn to fight. I've got to do this for him"

He holds your hand with both of his.

"I'll be by your side y/n"

[sapphire-weapon]

I’m about to vomit out a bunch of thoughts, and I’m not sure any of this is going to make sense by the end, but. I’ve been thinking a LOT about these three lines in RE4make:

“You haven’t changed. You just think you have.”

“You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone.”

“This time, it has to be different...”

I’ve seen people focus in on that Krauser line and tie it directly back to Sherry, which is cool! Even as recently as five years ago, people completely glossed over Sherry’s impact on Leon’s life, and it’s cool that the remakes have had people digging into his character and realizing “oh shit, literally everything that happens to him after RE2 is because of his paternal love for Sherry.”

But... Krauser’s line is about more than just her.

With the remake turning Krauser into Leon’s combat trainer, chances are he knows about everything that happened in Raccoon City. And I don’t mean, like. He read a government file. Leon probably told him.

In OG, Krauser and Leon have this exchange of dialogue:

Krauser: “What is it that you fight for, comrade?” Leon: “My past, I suppose.” Krauser: “Hmph. Umbrella.”

It was axed completely from the remake, because it doesn’t make sense for it to happen in the remake. If Krauser was Leon’s trainer, that question was probably asked very early in their relationship. And since they weren’t currently in a fight to the death, and because they weren’t already six years removed from Raccoon City, chances are, Leon’s answer was a bit more involved than just “my past.”

So, let’s back up a little bit. In RE2make, they basically turned Kendo into a completely different character. OG Kendo was literally just there to point a shotgun at Leon and/or Claire and then go “oh my bad you’re not a zombie” and hook them up with some guns before he gets eaten. In RE2make, he’s a desperate and terrified father just trying to spend his last few moments with his infected 6 or 7 year old daughter before she turns. After he shuts the door on Leon and Ada, Leon turns to Ada and says, “Protecting people like that is why I joined the force.”

But Leon doesn’t protect or save Kendo or his daughter. He doesn’t protect or save... anyone. Every single person that Leon comes into contact with and tries to save dies horrifically -- and some, he even has to kill, himself (Marvin Branaugh). The only people who make it out of Raccoon City alive are people who saved themselves (Claire and Ada).

Of course, there is Sherry. But Leon didn’t save Sherry; Claire did. ESPECIALLY in remake canon, since nearly all of Leon’s scenes with Sherry got severely shortened or removed completely in RE2make.

But then, when Claire entrusts Sherry to Leon’s care (on his own insistence, per her RE3 epilogue), he goes and fucks that up, too. Gets her kidnapped and held hostage indefinitely by the federal government, and the only thing he can do about it is do exactly as they say and just hope they keep their end of the bargain and not hurt her.

So, when Krauser says “You can’t save anyone,” he means anyone. Ever. And even up to that point in RE4... Leon got the two officers who drove him into town killed, and he watched Luis die a slow, agonizing death right in front of him. And then, past that point, Leon has to kill Krauser with his own hands. Then he watches Mike die.

Ashley is literally Leon’s first and only success story, up to this point in canon. (And even when you go all the way up to current-day canon, Ashley is one of... three? People? I can think of? Total? Who Leon actually saves?)

So, Leon saying, “This time, it has to be different,” he doesn’t just mean Sherry. He means Ada. He means Kendo. He means Marvin. He means the entirety of Raccoon City. He’s staring down a repeat of what happened back then, not in terms of the bioterror situation, but in terms of his own personal failures. His survivor’s guilt. He can’t handle the thought that he’ll be the only person to walk away again -- and he refuses to be.

And that’s why Ada’s line bothers me so fucking much.

I mean, first of all -- Ada, you haven’t seen this man in six years, and you’ve spent a total of like five minutes with him since meeting up with him again here, so how the fuck would you even know -- but even aside from that...

To be clear: she’s right.

But she’s also wrong.

Leon has changed -- to an extent. In RE2 (OG or remake), Leon honestly believed that if it was lawful, then it was also morally right. He doesn’t believe that anymore. There’s no more “letting the law sort it out” or trusting in the power of authority for him anymore. His moral compass has been boiled down to: “If you hurt or murder innocent people, you’re a fucking asshole, and I don’t really care who you are, I’ll kill you myself.”

RE2 Leon was willing to hear people out and give them an honest benefit of the doubt -- even Annette Birkin. RE4 Leon just tells people to shut the fuck up before opening fire.

RE2 Leon was honest and trusting to a fault, and he felt stronger as part of a team. RE4 Leon is suspicious almost to the point of paranoia, and he just wants to be left the fuck alone to do his job.

These are all things that were really important to who Leon was in Raccoon City, and they’re reasons why things turned out the way they did for him, back then.

But at the same time, Ada’s right in saying that, at the core of it all, Leon is still that kind-hearted, decent guy who just wants the good guys to win and the bad guys to lose. That’s why it hits him somewhere sensitive when Krauser says: “You can’t save anyone.” 

It’s just that, now, the way he approaches it is different. His outlook on life in terms of his goals is different. His expectations for it have changed.

So, if Leon had been smarter/wittier, he absolutely could have turned it around on her and said: “No, I’ve definitely changed. You just think I haven’t.”

And not only would that sound threatening as fuck, he’d also be right. They both would be, at that point.

And for all of those major parts of him to have changed and still be facing down the possibility of failing every single person he comes across, especially Ashley...

"This time, it has to be different.”

And this time, it was.

[wsdanon]

hi \o/ i mentioned a while ago i was likely going to be posting more wips here--especially if i'm going a while without posting actual fics. this one is a fuga four pirate au \o/

like with the vampire au, i have some information surrounding what is actually written here (backstory + future plot), but i'm unlikely to continue writing it right now due to having other multi-chaptered fics to focus on. anything else at the moment will likely be wip snippets like this one

it's 3k words, but it cuts off pretty abruptly. reblogs appreciated \o/

Honestly, this isn’t Pac’s worst day. It’s pretty up there, but going to jail and losing his leg manages to beat it out. 

After all, this is just a local jail. More of a holding cell than anything. For petty crimes or executions. Pac, luckily, is in for the former. Unluckily for him, he’s separated from Mike and hasn’t been able to breathe properly since they threw him in here. 

He’ll be spending a week in here, or until bail. 

It’s only been a day. And excuse him for being dramatic, but he doesn’t think he’s going to make it. 

He can imagine Mike is probably weighing up the pros and cons of staging a breakout. After all, it’s only a week. Breaking out might just put an unnecessary target on their backs, and they’ll have to move towns again. 

Logically, he gets that. 

In reality he’s in the corner of the cell with his knees hugged tight to his chest. The cell is big enough that from here he can’t see the guard—which is both a blessing and a curse. 

He’s fine being alone. But being separated from Mike makes his skin itch. He’s almost desperate for any kind of company, even if it’s just some bored guard not paying attention to him. 

And then—like his prayers are answered—he hears two sets of footsteps, and the cell door unlocking. He looks up to see a man being shoved—stumbling, but not falling—and the door being slammed shut again behind him. 

“Well…” The man shrugs, and sighs, and turns to inspect his new quarters. His eyes catch on Pac’s. A pretty smile crosses his face. “Oh! Hi!”

“Uh… hi.” Pac uncurls himself from his corner, and gets to his feet. “Nice to meet you?”

“Nice to meet you!” He sticks out his hand for Pac to shake. Pac’s eyes catch on the pirate branding on his wrist. “I’m Captain Felps. To some.”

“To some?”

Felps makes a hesitant noise before admitting, “Felps who crashed the boat to others.” 

Pac laughs, and shakes his hand. He should really be more hesitant—it’s always a gamble with pirates. Him and Mike have run into plenty who were perfectly honourable, and plenty who they’d happily watch hang. 

This pirate, though, seems like the former. If Pac is a good judge of character, which he’s often told he isn’t. 

“I’m Pac.” 

“What are you in for?” 

Felps takes a seat on one of the beds, and Pac takes the one opposite him. 

“Stealing.” Then he rolls his eyes. “Allegedly.”

He did, in fact, steal. He stole a lot more than they charged him for, actually. But they’ll never get him to admit it out loud. 

“Allegedly?” Felps raises his eyebrows. “How long will I have your company for then?” 

“Uh… six days now?” Pac looks out the tiny barred window—night has fallen—and nods to himself. “Yeah, six days. Well, and tonight.”

“Nice, nice.” His eyes dart out to where Pac assumes he might be able to see the guard, and sighs. “Longer than I’ll have to live, apparently.”

“Oh.” Pac shifts, uncomfortable. He’s interacted with plenty of people on death row before, but he never knows how to react. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s for piracy.” Felps admits. Then, he gestures to Pac. “Allegedly.”

“Allegedly.” Pac echoes back with a slight laugh. 

The conversation between them dwindles. Pac is just starting to consider lying down and trying to get some sleep, when Felps stands up on the bed and looks out the window. 

“Hello?” He calls lowly, and Pac wonders what the hell his game plan is. A quick look at the guard shows he’s unbothered. Although, admittedly, he’s probably used to desperate pleas for help. “Anyone? Cellbit?” 

Pac’s heart freezes in his chest. 

Surely he can’t mean… Cell, right? They left Cell for dead. And Felps doesn’t seem like the kind of man to get along with him. He’s nice, for starters. 

Ignoring that Pac also thought Cell was nice at first. 

No. It’s just a really awful coincidence because the universe likes to taunt him. Cell’s dead. Rotting somewhere on an abandoned island. 

“Anyone out there?” Felps continues.

“It’s just guards.” Pac mutters. “The window faces into the fort.”

Felps looks back at the guard. Then he jumps off the bed, and crowds in close to Pac. His eyes search Pac’s face. Pac feels his cheeks grow warm. 

“Do you know how to get out of here?” He asks in a whisper. 

“No, sorry.” Pac shakes his head. “I just had a lot of free time today.”

“Damn…” 

Felps goes to move back, but Pac gestures for him to stay close. 

“Do you think your crew will try to help you?” He whispers. 

“I’m not going to count on it.” Felps says without even stopping to think about it. 

And then he’s up by the window again, calling out for… anyone, it seems. Pac lies down on his bed. At least he didn’t expect to get much sleep, anyway. 

“Hello? Anyone out there?” 

Pac wonders how he got into this situation. He didn’t respond with an outright no, so it probably wasn’t his crew betraying him. 

“Cellbit?”

It could’ve been a single member of his crew, though. A first mate, perhaps, looking to become captain. If Cellbit really is somehow Cell, Pac wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Anyone? Hello?”

Or maybe he was just unlucky. In the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“Cucurucho?”

That causes Pac to sit up. 

“Wait, wait, why are you calling for him?” 

Felps looks down at him, something unreadable on his face. Then he shrugs. 

“Why not?” 

Pac can think of a hundred reasons why not, and he’s surprised a pirate can’t think of a hundred more. 

“Cucurucho?” Felps calls again, dragging the name out at the end.

Then he laughs despairingly, and rests his forehead against the bricks. 

Pac closes his eyes. As good as he is at escaping, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to help much in the amount of time Felps has likely been given. He doesn’t know enough about the fort layout, or the guards’ patrol routes. It takes time to learn all that. Especially when he’s confined to just this jail cell. And he isn’t about to risk worse punishments and further separation from Mike on a half-assed escape plan. 

The bed creaks as Felps—presumably—sits down on it. He’s muttering to himself, but it’s quiet enough that Pac can’t make out any of it. 

Pac spins attempts at comfort in his mind, trying to figure out the best one. Nothing seems adequate. All he can really offer is a distraction, so—

—There’s a commotion outside their cell. 

Pac sits up enough just in time to see someone skilfully kill the guard that was stationed down here. He’s wearing a navy officer’s uniform that’s splattered with blood. 

“Cellbit?” Felps asks, hesitantly. Like he’s not quite sure what to make of the situation. 

“Felps!” 

The man runs up to the bars into the lantern light, and Pac is seeing a ghost. 

The blood turns to ice in his veins. He presses his back to the wall behind him, and tries to make himself look small. 

Cell’s eyes haven’t caught on him yet. His entire focus is on Felps—a delighted smile on his face as he watches the pirate step closer. 

Pac’s leg aches. 

“What are you doing here?” Felps asks. 

“I’m getting you out!” Cell replies, almost offended. Then he ducks down to rifle through the belongings of the guard. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Felps echoes. He looks back at Pac. “Do you want to come with us?”

Pac’s breath is stuttering in his chest. His eyes are wide as they dart between Felps’ open expression, and a man who should be dead. 

“Got it.” Cell stands up. 

And pauses. 

“Cellbit.” Felps says his name with a tone of despair, and reaches through the bars to try and grab the keys. “Open the door.”

Cellbit dances out of the way. 

“Say you owe me one?” 

“I owe you one.” Felps responds, easier than Pac thought he would. “Let me out. Please.”

“And I can collect on it whenever?” Cell pushes. “And you’ll have to do it?”

“Well.” Felps stops grabbing for the key, and lets his arms rest loosely on the horizontal bars. “Hold on. How much is one?”

“One is one! We can discuss it later.”

“Cellbit.” Felps sighs. “Just open the door.”

“Fine.” 

He does so. Grumbling to himself a little as he tries to find the right key. 

He’s not… entirely the spitting image of Cell. His hair is longer. There’s a white streak in it. And despite just trying to bribe Felps, there’s a distinct lack of cruelty in the way he holds himself. 

That doesn’t really mean anything, though, when he nods his head in Pac’s direction, and Pac’s entire body tenses. 

“Is your friend coming?”

He hasn’t recognised Pac yet. Which Pac chalks up the shadows of the cell. But if Pac accepts, there’ll be no hiding. 

If he stays here, though, the guards could take out their frustrations over an escaped pirate on him. Besides, maybe Cell doesn’t even remember him. 

“Pac?” Felps prompts. 

And Cell’s head snaps up to look at him.

“Pac?” 

Well, there goes that hope. Lady Luck once again laughs at him from the heavens. 

“Oh, you two know each other?” 

“You could… say that.” Cell frowns, and goes back to unlocking the door. 

It swings open, and Pac is frozen. 

Felps, on the other hand, has no problem stepping out. Even when Cellbit punches his arm, he doesn’t do more than let out an ow, and rub at the spot where he was hit. 

He doesn’t seem afraid. At all. 

“What was that for?” Felps complains. 

“You’re so stupid.” Cellbit bites out. “I was worried.”

Hesitantly, Pac stands. 

He really does need to get out of here. They’ll probably charge him with being an accomplice if he doesn’t. Cell eyes him warily as he approaches, so Pac tries to focus instead on the way Felps smiles at him. 

“It’ll be better if we stick together.” Cellbit says, and Pac can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on him. “Let’s go.” 

They have to follow Cellbit to get out. Pac makes a point of keeping Felps between them at all times, but that’s a false comfort. If Cell really wanted to kill him, Pac doubts Felps would intervene. 

Because Felps may be nice, but he’s a pirate. And he’s a pirate who’s friends with Cell.

Man, he really is a bad judge of character.

The alarms start ringing about halfway through their escape. Cellbit curses, and twists abruptly to take them down a different pathway. 

This one is narrower. They run through one at a time—Cellbit in the lead, dragging Felps by the hand behind him, and Pac taking up the rear. 

He wishes he’d thought to pick up the guard’s sword. Or the gun. Instead, all he can do is look behind himself as much as he can without stumbling, and hope that Cellbit will give him something to defend himself with if someone tries to follow them. 

Luckily, though, Cellbit seems to know what he’s doing. They get to a small alcove—where he’s clearly stashed some things—without much trouble. 

He quickly throws a cloak to Felps, who puts it on gratefully. Then he locks eyes with Pac. And tosses him the other. 

“I only brought two.” Cellbit explains, shouldering the bag, and getting ready to move. 

“You take it then.” Pac holds the cloak out to him. “I’m just in for thievery, I doubt they remember my face. But, uh, you—you look like you’ve been stabbed, you know? With all the blood? They might, like, ask questions.” 

Cellbit doesn’t move, staring at the material in Pac’s outstretched hand with a frown. 

“If they know my face, they’ll know yours, Cellbit.” Felps says. 

“Okay.” Cellbit trades his bag for the cloak. “Put this on, keep your head down, and be careful.”

Pac nods, trying to ignore the way his hands are shaking after Cell’s fingers brushed his. He puts the bag on as Cellbit throws on the cloak. It mostly hides the bloodied navy uniform. 

“Okay,” Cellbit gestures for them to inch closer, “we just need to wait for the signal.”

“What’s the signal?” Pac asks. 

An explosion sounds in the distance. It’s too far away for even the aftershocks to hit them, but Pac still jumps. 

“That.” 

Cellbit darts off towards the fort wall, and Pac scrambles to follow him. Felps is by his side as he runs. 

Another explosion—still far away from them. Pac hears commotion in the distance. They dash up the stairs to the top of the wall just in time to hear the hasty march of soldiers below them. 

“Pac.” Cell whispers, holding a hand out. Pac tenses. “Rope.”

He stares back at Cell with wide, uncomprehending eyes. 

“What?”

“The bag. There’s rope.” 

Pac scrambles to get it out and pass it off to Cellbit. It has large knots spaced out evenly throughout it.

An explosion—even more distant this time—goes off while Cellbit secures the rope for them to climb down it. He forces Felps to go first. 

And then Pac. 

The distance really isn’t far. If Pac drops it would hurt but he’d survive. So, he tries to ignore all thoughts of Cell cutting the rope and letting him fall. Instead, he focuses on not slipping off of the hand and foot holds. 

He lands a little roughly, but Felps’ hands come up to steady him. He restrains himself from collapsing into the hold. There’ll be plenty of time to calm down from the stress of escape, and Cell later on with Mike. 

Cellbit lands with a dull thud. He leaves the rope, and leads them through the bushes, and into town. 

Once they hit the streets, Pac feels a little safer. A small crowd has formed, staring off at the fire, and smoke in the distance. It’s easy enough to sneak behind them, and once they do, it’s clear that the guards haven’t made it into town yet. 

They duck quickly through alleyways until they hit a main road again. Once there, Cellbit encourages them to slow down into a more casual gait. 

“So,” Cellbit asks, “where’s your boyfriend?”

“Mike?” 

“Yeah, Mike. I’m assuming you’ll want to go to him?”

“Yeah.” Pac shrugs. “He’s either at the store, or at the house.”

“Well, lead us there.” 

The thing is, is that Cell always had a tone about him. He had a couple of tones, actually, and all of them felt like they were sticking to you. The sickly sweet promises of safety like being covered in suffocating honey, the low threats rolling over them like waves, and the explosive anger stabbing into them like knives. 

Pac rarely walked out of an encounter without feeling like Cell’s words were clouded around him. 

This, however, was said so casually Pac doesn’t know what to think of it. It doesn’t feel like Cell’s friendly schtick. It doesn’t have the pressing weight of a threat. 

And Pac stumbles into the lead, taking them towards their shop, because it doesn’t feel like revenge. Maybe he’s naive for that. 

Cellbit and Felps bicker next to him. The words flow in one ear, and out the other. 

By the time Pac gets to the shop, he honestly can’t say whether this is a trap of some kind or not. It’s likely that Cell just wants them both in the same place so he can finish the job from all those years ago… 

…But every minute they spend walking together, Pac is sure he’s changed. He’s light as he talks with Felps. And Felps talks back without any apparent fear of angering him. If it wasn’t for his name, and his looks Pac doesn’t think he’d recognise him. 

Still, though, he hesitates in front of the door. Cell can change, but also want revenge. 

“Cute shop.” Felps comments. 

And Pac sends him a shaky smile, and a murmured, “thanks.” 

The lanterns are on inside. He’s pretty sure Mike is here. 

“Let me just…” He turns to Cellbit. “Let me just, um… explain. Before he sees you.”

“Oh. Uh, okay, sure.” 

Cellbit steps away from the doorframe and windows. Pac knocks. 

There’s a commotion inside, and then the door is swinging open. 

“Fuck, Pac, that was you?” Mike hisses, urging him inside. “I was trying to get ready to leave town just in case, but I didn’t think it was actually you.” 

“I had help.” 

Pac gestures back towards Felps, who waves. 

“Hi, I’m Felps! Nice to meet you!” 

“Uh…” Mike scans over him critically. “I’m Mike. Nice to meet you, too.”

“And that’s not all…” He trails off, and winces as Mike frowns at him.

“What?” Mike turns to continue gathering stuff into their bags. “Did something bad happen?”

“Depends. Um… you remember Cell, right?” 

“How could I forget?” Mike spits out. Then he turns back to Pac. “Wait-“

“He’s actually like, super nice now!” Pac says quickly—the words pouring from his mouth before he really thinks about them. “He helped me escape, and didn’t even threaten me once! I think he’s changed, you know?” 

“He went to therapy.” Felps adds helpfully. 

“He went to—wait,” Pac turns to Felps, “did he?” 

“Mhm!” Felps nods, an easy smile on his face. It’s… calming. A little. Makes him feel better about the fact that Mike is probably one step away from killing him himself. “I took him there.” 

“See!” Pac faces Mike again. “He went to therapy.”

Mike is staring at him, his mouth dropped open in shock. Then he groans, and drags his hands down his face. 

“Pac.” He grabs Pac’s shoulders, and shakes them. “You cannot be serious.“

“I am.” Pac confirms, guilt swirling in his stomach. “He’s actually, like, right outside. Sorry.”

--

sorry… that confrontation was going to take some brain power to write, but it's been months and i still haven't written it so i don't think i'll get there any time soon. I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway though \o/

(also: felps and cellbit's conversation about felps owing cellbit one if cellbit lets him out was taken from their federation escape stream because i love it)

[moonah-rose]

Fav ghosts headcannons?

Too many to name! This show has really given me brain rot and just when I was starting to think the hyperfix was ending.

Okay some random ones.

As ghosts don't need to breathe, sometimes they will just go to the lake and lay on the bottom to watch the fish, or Thomas try to drown himself, or Kitty doing her rendition of Part Of Your World. As they also don't feel much pain, another fun activity is daring each other to jump off the roof. Fanny refuses as she does this enough every morning.

Only four people knew about Mary's trial before she had her big talk about it in S4; Robin, Annie, Humphrey and Alison. Robin is rarely tactful with everyone but as he was the one to watch her die and the first ghost she met he's always been sweet with her about it, Humphrey has talked her through many sleepless nights and of course she relived it all to Annie who was more determined to help unleash her feminine rage. Alison being the last one encouraged her to tell the others (Alison had to take a moment to cry after though because Christ that was awful). Likewise Captain also told Alison the story about Havers before he told the others as it was easier to confide in one person, and she said to just tell the others when he was ready as Mary did but it took him a bit longer to work up the courage until he thought he was literally at death-death's door.

Robin didn't just figure out his ghost power with the invention of electricity, he's always had a connection to thunder storms but rarely tried to practice anything with it as they were part of his ptsd, and sometimes when he got emotional lightning always seemed to strike closer to him. Often times during a big storm other ghosts would find him cowering somewhere like a frightened dog (though ironically he loves fireworks). It's why saving Mike was such a big deal, he had no idea what being struck by lightning again as a ghost would mean, if it would hurt or destroy him but did it anyway (you're welcome, Mike and Alison!).

Julian is Mia's favorite uncle - no of course she loves them all but he has the advantage of being able to text and a betting account he can spend on nothing except her, and he might spoil her a lot to make himself feel better about missing out on his own daughter but they do develop a cute bond even if Alison isn't always sure he's the best influence for her daughter she doesn't come between them.

One I've mentioned before but it really is my favorite, Kitty being able to see Robin, Annie, Humphrey and Mary when she was growing up and having them be her imaginary friends, which they loved until Eleanor teased her for it and forced her to "grow up" and she lost her Sight. It broke all their hearts and they hated not being able to protect Kitty from Eleanor's mental abuse or let her know she was there. Yeah that flashback of their father taking Eleanor to the ball and leaving Kitty to cry? They're all sat around her wanting to give her a hug, I can't unsee it. I wrote a whole fic going into this I love it so much.

[lqveharrington]

Babysitter | S.H. x reader

Summary: Steve is asked to babysit the party at the music store you work at.

A/N: it’s my first time posting here, so i have no idea what i’m doing. :)

Warnings: language (cursing!!), kissing (like twice), both of them being oblivious, jealousy, mainly fluff!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

————

“Wait, I can’t watch them, I have plans today!” Steve complained through the phone, not liking the position Nancy and Robin put him in.

“Are they that important?” Robin popped a grape in her mouth, leaning against his counter.

“Actually, it is, Robin.” He threw one of the grapes at her head. “Nance, don't do this to me, please. Aren’t they old enough to be on their own?”

“After all the shit we’ve been through, I don’t trust them,” Nancy spoke, playing with the wire connecting the phone with the receiver. “They’re just going to the music shop and I don’t want them to bike or skateboard there.”

“I can’t bring them to the music store!”

“Why not?” She crossed her arms, glaring at the phone.

Robin grabbed the phone, “Little Stevie’s crush works there. He’s been going over there for a few months now and is scared to ask her out. What a wimp!”

“Robin.” Steve groaned, taking the phone back. “She’s kidding.”

“I’m not.” She teased him and gave him a cheeky grin.

“Steve, are you kidding me?! Are you twelve?” Nancy raised her free hand in the air, frustration radiating off of her. “Just bring them there, you don’t need to get out of the car.”

“No, I’ll get out of the car.” Steve said, wanting to prove himself.

“Then go to the store with them!”

“Fine.” He grumbled, not liking their conversation. He rubbed one side of his face. “These kids will be the death of me, you know?”

“Yes, Steve. You’ve said that every time you watch them.” She sighed, grabbing her keys from the bowl near the kitchen. “Just— Just pick the kids up from my house.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grabbed his own keys from the key holder. “Wait, what’s so important that you can't do it?”

“Bye, Steve.” Nancy ended the call, the opposing only hearing the end tone.

Steve blinked before looking at Robin, “Why would you say that?”

“Say what?” Her voice came out muffled due to the grapes stuffed in her mouth.

He rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, heading toward the door. She stayed in the kitchen, munching on his food.

“Robin!” He called from the door, hand on his waist. “I still have to drop you off at work.”

“I’m going!” She replied swiftly before grabbing more grapes and stuffing them in her pockets.

— — — —

“No, how is it fair that you have a day off but I have to work?” Robin threw her head back on the headrest, removing her feet from the dashboard.

“Probably because you complain too much.” Steve retorted, unlocking the car for her.

“Hey!” She threw the last grape she had at his head. “I practically got you this job, I could get you fired too.”

“Please don’t.” He huffed, taking the keys out of the engine. “Kids, come on.” He exited the car, getting confused gazes from them.

“Wait, why did we stop here?” Dustin stepped out and adjusted his hat. “The store is so far from here.”

“It’s two stores down. Two.” Steve held up two fingers, shaking his head at their laziness. “Can you really not do that?”

“I’m tired, so no.” He gave him a fake smile, nodding once.

Steve just scoffed and waited for Max and Mike to get out. “Where’s Lucas anyway?”

“He’s with the basketball team.” The ginger rolled her eyes, putting her headset back on.

“Jesus, you kids need to have proper manners.” He followed behind them, shoving his keys into his jacket. “What’re you kids even gonna get there?”

“Max has a Kate Bush cassette tape that she wants to get,” Mike answered nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She said she only trusts that one employee on Saturdays to get it for her.”

“Which, by the way, only one employee works on Saturday.” Dustin pointed out, watching some cars pass.

“Could you go by yourselves? I have something to do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like, wait in your car?” The curly-haired boy turned to face him. “Just go with us and Nancy won’t be all up in your case again about leaving us alone.”

“I can’t go with you! I can’t be seen dealing with you three shitheads!” He stopped walking, causing the three to turn and face him. “No, I'm not going.” He stood in place, arms crossed.

Mike and Dustin looked at each other with mischievous grins, before giving Steve an innocent one.

“Hold on, what’re you thinking? Stop thinking.” Steve stupidly yet tried to reprimand them, backing away.

— — — —

You were leaning on the counter of the music store, turning a page in a book you were currently immersed in. The soft sound of the song Africa played throughout the store as your eyes scanned the contents of the book when the bell above the door jingled, your eyes snapping up immediately.

“No— Hey! Let me go!” Steve tried pushing the two teens away from him, not realizing the amused look you were giving them. “Henderson, I’m serious!”

You let out a faux cough, letting them know of your presence. Steve instantly stiffened at the noise, fixing his appearance. Dustin lifted a brow at the latter and shrugged his hands off his arm.

“Sorry about them.” Max walked swiftly toward the counter, resting her headphones around her neck.

“Don’t worry about it.” You dismissed it as you made eye contact with the male behind her. “Hey, Steve Harrington.”

“Hi.” He breathed out, making Mike scrunch his nose at the way he was acting. Steve swore his heart did flips as you gave him a genuine smile and slight wave.

“So, do you have it?” Max bounced on the balls of her feet, ignoring the very much painful tension between the two adults.

“Yes.” You drawl out playfully, flickering your eyes back on her.

“Are you sure it’s—?”

You pull out the cassette tape from underneath the counter, flashing her a toothy grin. “Yeah, I’m not sure it’s the one you want.”

“Oh, my god!” She squealed like a little girl, the first time any of the guys have heard her make that noise. “Thelimitededitionmarblecassettetapefor Kate Bush!”

“Did you guys understand a word she said?” Mike took a piece of candy from the counter but only got his hand smacked by the woman. “Ow.”

“I only heard Kate Bush.” Dustin wandered around the store, his voice quiet.

“Yeah, yeah. Just know, we’re not supposed to sell these yet, so you better keep that hidden.” You winked before slapping Mike’s hand away from the candy he definitely didn’t pay for. “And don’t worry about paying, I have that covered as well.”

“Well, now I feel bad.” Max tried to pay for it, frowning when you wouldn’t accept the payment.

“Why don’t you look around the store for something that’s around the same price and pay for that instead?” You negotiated with her, glancing at Mike who was tempted to grab something.

“That works! I’ll be quick, I promise!” She moved toward the records, finding something she liked.

You chuckled at her enthusiasm and went back to reading your book, silently reading the words to yourself.

“Just go up and talk to her! Isn’t that your thing? King Steve or whatnot?” Dustin whisper-yelled behind an aisle, hiding along with Steve.

“Okay, first off, this is different. She’s not like, your typical, Hey want to go on a date? My parents aren’t home. Let’s pop these pills and see what happens, type of girl.”

“What the fuck?!” Dustin divulged, thinking of the things he says to other women. “What the hell goes on in that brain of yours? Does it not function properly?!”

“I’m not like that anymore though, so.” He stuck out his tongue like a child, getting a scoff in return. “Two, I want to make a good impression. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Haven’t you visited this store multiple times already?” The teen raised a brow, remembering small details. “I mean, it’s like you worked here before at this point.”

“I—“ Steve shut his mouth, having no comeback or small detail to add.

“Just talk to her.”

“It’s more difficult than that.”

“Oh, really? Okay.” Dustin slowly started to walk away from the aisle they were hiding in.

“Hey, where are you going?” No reply. “Henderson, get back here!”

The curly-haired boy just ignored the male’s protests as he made his way to the desk and rang the bell at the front, startling you. “Hi, I’m Dustin Henderson.”

“Uh, hi.” You shut your book smoothly, putting it away. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” He gave you a sly smile before speaking in a hushed tone. “You know Steve right?” You nodded languidly, not understanding where this was going. “Well, he might have a small, tiny little crush on y—“

“Hey!” Steve abruptly came over, putting an arm around Dustin, lightly punching it. “Why don’t we leave and not bother Y/N, yeah?”

You felt your face warm from what the boy had said before Steve kindly interrupted. You kept your eyes locked on your hands, whereas you fidgeted with some rings you adorned.

“Talk to her.” Dustin mouthed toward his older friend, watching you. Steve rolled his eyes and pushed him away, mocking a small ‘sure’.

You stayed facing your hands, lining the rings up on the counter. You knew what Dustin said was far too good to be true, supposedly if he said what he was going to say. Hell, if he said Steve Harrington, the Steve Harrington whom you’ve liked since Sophomore year, liked you back, you’d be laughing at his poor attempt at a joke. You knew Steve had a type, and being the next girl after Nancy Wheeler definitely didn’t seem like a huge confidence boost.

“—Y/N.” Steve tapped your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. “What did Henderson say?”

“Something about where The Neverending Story cassette tape was.” You made up, not daring to look at him. “Nothing much.”

Steve made an o shape, glad that Dustin didn’t tell you. “So, how’s your day going?” He cringed at his attempt to save a conversation.

“Honestly? Pretty shitty.” You chuckle to yourself, putting your rings back on. “Until Max came in, she always managed to put a smile on my face.”

“What about me?” Steve feigned a pout, getting you to look up at him. “You don’t like me?” You give him an adoring smile, causing his heart to practically melt, maybe even his whole body.

“Oh, no. I absolutely hate you.” Reverting back to your usual self with him. Fuck it, might as well keep these feelings to myself. You think to yourself, propping your head on your hands.

“Aw, that’s too bad. I had quite a liking to you.” He moved around to mirror your position, giving a cheeky smile. You scrunch your nose at him, missing the way his eyes twinkled with adoration.

“Like that,” Steve pointed at your face. “That was cute.”

Holy fucking shit. You parted your lips slightly, furrowing your eyebrows together. “Pardon?”

Steve just chuckled at your reaction, attempting to keep his cool. He turned his head to his left, seeing Dustin mouth more words.

“Ask her on a date already.”

He shook his head, not wanting to rush, but seeing as it’s been months of constant flirting with each other, he’ll take his chance. Especially with the way you reacted, which pointed to good signs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You recovered from your small shock.

The man braced himself, making random designs on the counter with his finger. “So, I was thinking, maybe you and I could—“

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Eddie came running in, Mike and Dustin immediately appeared next to Steve, hearing their DM. The long-haired man jumped over the counter and shook your shoulders, “Oh, my god! I have something to tell you!”

“Wait, slow down.” You giggled at his antics, grabbing his shoulders in return. “I would love to hear it, but Steve wanted to ask me something.”

“The king finally asked you out yet?” He whispered in your ear, making you blush uncontrollably.

“No, shut up.” You hit his chest, facing Steve again.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve felt a tightening in his chest and lightly clenched his hand when he saw this interaction. This. This is so lovely. He thought, heart aching. He tried not to let any emotion show through, failing miserably.

Eddie remained silent, standing behind you, getting curious looks from the two teens. You noticed the ‘subtle’ glare the eldest received from Steve, making you fidget with Eddie’s rings nervously.

“Steve?” You spoke questionably, getting him to look over at you. “What was it you were going to say?”

“Nothing, never mind.” He muttered, leaving his place. He turned to the kids, “I’ll be in the car, come over when Max is done, alright?”

Mike and Dustin nodded, albeit confused at his sudden mood change.

“Y/N, what did Steve say to you before Eddie kindly interrupted?” Dustin stared at you.

“Uh, something about him and I, but that was it.” You say with a disappointed tone. The three boys looked at each other with knowing looks, your obliviousness not getting anything. “What?”

“He was gonna ask you out, dumbass.” Eddie whacked the back of your head, making you glare at him.

“Don’t dumbass me, Munson. He wasn’t going to do that.” You state, in denial.

“He clearly got jealous when he saw the way Eddie was with you.” Mike got your attention, expressing with his hands. “He was literally giving a death stare to Eddie.”

“He was just staring at him weirdly because he interfered with our conversation.” You try again.

“Sure he was. Steve was clenching his jaw as well. Those are clear signs of jealousy. Clear!” The curly-haired boy hit the counter. “Now, go after him!”

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, completely in disbelief between the three of them. “I’m still at work, and I can’t just take the words of two teens and the most childish twenty-year-old I’ve ever met for it. No offense.” You pat Eddie’s shoulder, getting a swat.

“Then take my word.” Max came around the aisle, holding onto another cassette. “Steve Harrington has clearly fallen head over heels for you, Y/N L/N.”

You open your mouth to speak but shut it, pursing your lips together.

“Trust me, I haven’t lied to you since I met you.” The ginger stood next to the others. “Go.” She gave you a genuine smile, tilting her head to the side. “You’ll regret it if you don’t go, believe me.”

You hesitate for a bit, eyes fulgurating between all their faces. All of them nodded, letting you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You make your way toward the store entrance, looking back at them.

“GO!” They all shout, making you rush out the door.

As you left the store, the four of them quietly listened to the music in the background.

“So this is the guy you two worship?”

“Shut up.”

— — — —

You got out of the store before regretting to ask which was Steve’s car. Sure, you went to the same school and noticed almost every detail about him, but a car? You couldn’t remember anything.

“Shit.” You mumbled, heading toward the right of the lined-up shops. You ‘discreetly’ looked into all the cars that were parked, noting and confirming that the man you were looking for wasn’t there. It wasn’t until you almost gave up in front of Family Video did you see a car that looked awfully familiar.

You tilted your body to the left, peering inside to see him tapping the steering wheel impatiently, blasting whatever song by Tears for Fears.

As you approached the car, you took a deep breath and knocked on the passenger side window, getting his attention. He rolled his windows down, hearing Shout play loudly.

“What?” He asked, an irritated look on his face.

“Can we talk?” You nervously look down.

Steve sighed, unlocking the car doors for you to enter. He lowered the volume of the song, not wanting to immediately turn it off.

You give him a small smile, hands in your lap as you take a seat. You both stayed silent for a bit, and uncomfortable quietness filled the air.

“Did you just come here? Or are we actually gonna talk?”

“Crap, yeah sorry.” You tug on your clothing a little, feeling his stare burning into your skull. “Just… The kids in there told me something that might change a billion things.”

“And this relates to me because?”

“Because they told me that… You like me?” You question your reply, whispering the last part.

“What?”

“They told me you like me.” You say with more confidence, looking into his eyes for the first time since you got into the car. “Do you? I mean, like me?”

The song on the radio changed, suddenly playing Head Over Heels, making the man instantly turn the radio off, face flushed.

“I don’t— I don’t know what that was.” He rubbed his jaw, meeting your eyes.

“So, you don’t like me?” Your tone changed, instantly feeling embarrassed.

“NO!” He shouted, waving his hands and making you flinch. “I meant, no, I do like you.”

You let your mouth fall open, not expecting him to actually say that. “Huh?”

“I like you.” Steve shrugged, acting nonchalant about it. Too much. “Do you like me?”

God, I feel like a ten-year-old boy who has his first crush. He thought, his eyes dancing across your facial features.

“Yeah, actually. I do.” Your mouth becomes dry, shutting your eyes.

“And it’s not like a joke or anything?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s not something the kids told you to do, right?”

“No, I wouldn’t—“ You open your eyes again, flickering to his lips before back up again. “I genuinely like you, Steve Harrington.”

You swore you saw the biggest grin appear on his face, making you smile in return.

And god, did he love your smile.

“Well, in that case, I genuinely like you too, Y/N L/N.” Steve said, managing to make his smile even wider, dimples showing and eyes crinkling at the edges. You melted at the sight, eyes lighting up.

He lifted one of his hands to cup your cheek, rubbing one side with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?”

“It would be a crime if you didn’t.” You reply, getting a smirk back.

The brunet gently pulled your face toward him, connecting the both of you over the center console. Eyes were shut, relishing the moment you had together. You imagined this happening, yes, but God was his lips softer than you imagined it being.

Steve could say the same, over and over it felt like a dream, not believing any of this was real. The butterflies in his stomach finally burst through, cupping your other cheek in the process.

You both separate, Steve letting his eyes open first. He stared with utmost infatuation, captivated by you. You fluttered your eyes open, giving him an affectionate smile.

He leaned in to kiss you again, before you back away softly, placing a hand on his mouth.

“Ask me on a date first, Harrington.” You kiss your hand, making him blush. Removing your hand, you lean in his your seat, as Steve now claimed it to be, still feeling warm.

Maybe babysitting those shitheads today wasn’t a bad thing. Steve thought.

“What was it you were going to say in the store? You know, before Ed’s kindly interrupted.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me sometime?” Steve gave you a weary smile, though you two had just kissed. “You don’t need to say yes. Just, like, I was just wondering. If you don’t want to, you don’t need to, it’s totally fine—“

You cut him off by giving him a quick peck on the lips, causing a goofy smile to appear.

“I thought you said to ask you on a date first?” He touched his lip a little.

“I mean, I needed you to shut up so I could say yes.” You lace your hands with him, feeling giddy. “Yes, I’ll watch a movie with you, Steve Harrington.”

“It’s a date.”

————————————————————

“So, are they gonna come back or?”

“I don’t even know.”

you guys can send requests if you have any!!

[ailendolin]

ive seen you discuss that scene in the thomas thorne affair where alison isnt paying attention to thomas as he tries to tell her about his death, and i think it's worth discussing the scene prior too. it's broad daylight when they unearth the musketball and thomas runs off, and it's night by the time he comes to talk to alison.

i can only imagine he's been alone that entire time since he ran off and clearly no one went to find him since theyre all just like "oh youre talking about his death? i'll join in!"

and when he says he wants to apologise for his outburst earlier that day and she goes "which one" and he responds that she's kind to make light of it, i feel SO bad for him cuz it's not like she was just trying to make light of it to lighten the mood, she was just actively annoyed he was there

i get that she probably finds him really annoying but like come on man have some tact, the dude was shot to death for crying out loud?? surely if ever he had a right to be dramatic about something, it's that??

Thank you for this ask, anon, and for giving me an excuse to talk about The Thomas Thorne Affair again!

I think the post you're referring to is this one where I wrote about how dismissive Alison is when Thomas comes to talk to her about his death and how she isn't even really listening to him when he starts his retelling of it. But you're right, we should absolutely talk about what happens earlier because the time jump is significant and says so much about him and his relationship with Alison and the ghosts. I think it's safe to assume that Thomas spent the time that passed between the opening scene and him seeking out Alison on his own. We know the ghosts don't go after him when he runs off upset - they didn't in 1x04 when he finds out the documentary is about Byron, and neither later in the same episode when he goes to 'drown himself in the lake'. In fact, they don't even bother to tell him that the film crew left and just leave him there. It's a recurring pattern with Thomas - run off, wait for someone to come, realise no one will, go back to the others. So I'd say it's highly likely it repeats here which means he probably spent hours waiting for someone to come looking for him and eventually gave up hope and set out to find Alison.

And next we get the apology scene (which I've always found interesting because Thomas doesn't just barge into the bedroom like you'd maybe expect him to. No, he waits outside the door until Alison and Mike have finish talking and then announces his presence). He's obviously, desperately in need of someone to talk to in that moment and Alison just ... doesn't care. At all. It's one thing to chalk his apology up to him being dramatic (even though like you I feel bad for him every time I watch it) but when he asks if he can give her an 'account of the unhappy events of that fateful day', there is not a hint of drama in his tone. It's a genuine request, and it breaks my heart that Alison doesn't even pretend she wants to hear it. And this is what I mean when I say that she and the ghosts don't extend the same gentle understanding and patience towards Thomas they extend towards each other. He is always considered a nuisance, even in moments like this when he is genuinely upset and looking for comfort and a willing ear to listen.

And then, of course, the episode unfolds and everyone else takes over his story. The moment Robin enters the room, Alison's whole demeanor changes. All of a sudden, she becomes invested and Thomas gets pushed into the background as one by one, the other ghosts tell their version of his death and turn the whole thing into a spectacle - the evening's entertainment, as I've called it before. They treat it as one of their clubs and once the excitement is over, they eave for the next bit of entertainment (which parallels the spectators of the duel going back inside in the flashback). Not a single one of them stays behind and asks him if he would like some company. They know he's not okay - 'it's worse' says it all. Thomas has just had his world turned upside down and no one cares. He died alone and unloved, and he ghosts that way too. There is no comfort for him in the afterlife, and it's no wonder that he's the character who keeps insisting that 'you stay how you die.' Because for him, it's true. He keeps waiting and waiting, and no one ever comes.

The Thomas Thorne Affair really highlights how little the others care about him. Even in the very beginning of the episode, he's sitting away from everyone else (something that is also a recurring pattern - one day I will make a post about it). It's a visual reminder that he's not really a part of the group, and everything else going on in the episode underlines that. But no matter how annoying Thomas may be - and Alison certainly has a right to feel annoyed by his romantic advances - he deserves to be shown a little more kindness by the others. There's no excuse for them to be treating his death like a joke and leaving him to deal with the fallout of the truth coming to light on his own. They should have rallied around him in that moment and been there for him just like they're there for each other when anyone else falters and struggles. Thomas has been alone for too long already, and it's heartbreaking that no one can or wants to see that.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Pac is curled on the sofa beside Forever's bed, watching him rest. It has been over a day now and nearly two - his vitals remain stable, the machinery dug up to keep monitoring him a reassurance, but he is worried. People should not be unconscious for so long, and there is so good way for the group to feed him. Even if they could find an IV, who knows how to use it? And would they have the right things to put in it?

It might be Pac's own fault, he knows; for giving Cellbit notes which lead him to an antidote which did damage to them, or perhaps for falling to the drugs himself and so not getting the antidote to Forever before more damage was done. With the amount Forever had taken, who knows how badly it wrecked his system?

Everyone always reassured Pac when he spoke to them, and the words seemed true, but alone with Forever and the monitors... It is much, much harder to hold onto hope.

They had no Doctor on the island, the closest options being those who had saved allies lives on the battlefield, the potion makers, and arguably himself - Pac, unlike many of the others, was at least familiar with human anatomy. You had to be, to make some of Chume Labs' creations work - prosthetics, mostly.

Cellbit would be here soon, taking over to watch Forever for the last bit of the night while Pac got some sleep before his early start. They had arranged shifts between themselves, making sure Forever was never alone - Philza first, while the island was busy, then Pac as things started to die down, and then Cellbit in the dead of the night. Bad and Tubbo and Fit and Antoine and everyone else would come by and spend some time with him, too - even Slime, though he had somehow wrecked half of the furniture in three minutes there.

Accidentally, Tubbo said. Knowing Slime to be the only person clumsier than Pac, it is maybe even true.

Pac would have expected Baghera sooner or later, but... It really did just confirm that, like Mike, she is missing. More of the island ripped away, and people barely even noticed...

The eggs, Baghera, Mike... How can Pac protect anyone, when he does not even know truly what they were facing? When something so, so terrible the eggs fled without their clothes is coming, and still nobody knows what it even might be.

Cellbit is late, now - by three minutes, and then four. Pac tugs on his sleeves and curls deeper into the sofa, flickering between Forever and the door and dreading when it makes thirty minutes without contact and he can call Cellbit also lost once more.

Thankfully it does not come to that - at seven minutes and thirty six seconds late, Cellbit knocks at, and then opens, the door.

"Sorry, I couldn't get Tubbo to shut up," Cellbit looks exhausted and more than half way to death himself. "He might have found a lead on the eggs - we're not sure. Got some things to think on now, and going out again to look tomorrow."

"A lead?" Pac's ears perk up with his eyes.

"He found copies of their items in a room at the centre of a maze," Cellbit yawns a little, and sits himself down. "There's a roulette wheel in the centre, and its impossible to get to them - the kid managed to find a way, but when he spun the wheel lava poured down. Items were fine, but he's a bit singed."

Pac gives a weak but genuine laugh, "sounds like him."

Cellbit shakes his head.

"Sounds like you," Pac follows up with.

"I was never this bad."

"You were," Pac leans over, resting his head on Cellbit's shoulder, "and, if you knew half of the things he did about engineering, you would be much, much worse."

"... Did I scare you?" Cellbit's voice is quiet as he takes one of Pac's hands.

"Tubbo does too," Pac squeezes it, watches Forever breathe, and puts a little more weight on Cellbit's arm. "Is we all being safe and happy too much to ask?"

"It shouldn't be."

The silence reigns a little while.

Cellbit squeezes his hand, frowns, and continues, "but I suppose it must be. So we fight for it, and we work for it, and we use whatever we have to keep our family and friends safe."

"Forever is still unconscious, do you think I-"

"If it were the antidote being toxic, you would be with him, so it has to be damage the drug did to him," Cellbit is blunt about that at least. "You saved him. We'd have never found an antidote in time without you sacrificing yourself to get some. I mean, you know what the missing ingredient was?"

Pac shakes his head.

"The drug itself. And we would never have been able to steal some from Forever. We had plans to try, but a four digit combination lock with no clues? It would have taken hours. And then we'd have still had to work out what to do with it - we wouldn't have known about the fermented spider's eye without you taking it," Cellbit puzzles through it. "Really I was kind of useless to the whole thing - you got the drug, Bad had the brewing stand, Philza had the eyes... I didn't even know how to use the damn thing."

"I should teach you," Pac says. "In case it happens again."

"Please don't."

"If it saves someone..."

"I know."

Cellbit puts his arm around Pac's shoulder and squeezes.

Pac wriggles an arm behind Cellbit's back, and hugs him too.

"Nobody even knows if he'll be okay," Pac whispers. "I might have been too late..."

"If you were too late, I was too," Cellbit says. "It took me longer than it should to find everything, too busy reading other things, thinking of other enigmas... Delaying calling Philza and Bad to the meeting room because Bad says 'owo' and Philza typed back with a smiley face."

Pac laughs. He doesn't mean to, but he does, "paranoia get to you?"

"Have you seen this island!" Cellbit waves around with the arm not around Pac. "Everything is trying to kill us! Except for each other. All we have is each other."

He thinks of Foolish arresting him for a crime which never happened - Mr Mustard now safely in the capybara village. He thinks of the secrets and the lies and the nervousness; he frowns and he says "do we?"

"Yes," Cellbit says without a doubt. "If nothing else - I have you and Roier and Felps and Forever and Mike. I trust all of you."

"I trust you too," and Pac finds that he does. He thinks a little more and adds "I trust Fit. I'd trust Tubbo to save me but not with information or to keep himself safe. I don't speak much with Philza, but I'd trust him with Richarlyson and Forever. Bad, with our egg. I think... If I were in trouble, I think almost everyone would help in what ways they could. I think if they were in trouble, I would do what I can. I'm not sure I'd trust many of them with my family, but I'd trust them with me."

Cellbit smiles, "it's a lot, isn't it? So many people..."

"It really is," Pac whispers back. "When I was rescued... I don't think I've ever had so many people worried about me. At the orphanage there were even more people, but it was only Mike who cared, and then..."

"And then," Cellbit agrees. "Bad you can trust, and Philza too. I would vouch for them both on that."

"You sure?"

"They're not /family/," Cellbit says. "But if family's in danger and they're around, I wouldn't hesitate to ask them for help; Philza was even already planning something, with Fit and Etoiles, and it was about the plan I had before seeing your messages."

"You had another plan?"

"Kill Forever and take the drugs from his corpse," Cellbit winced. "Though given the strength of the antidote... I imagine it wouldn't have gone well."

"Without knowing the drug it seems like a good one."

"And you were the one who got us the information to actually save him," Cellbit hugs Pac closer. "I know it looks bad now, but... But he's alive, and healing, and /safe/. You did it Pac, you did it."

"We did it."

The number of affirmations and praise are a little overwhelming, enough so he almost missed the tears being blinked back in Cellbit's eyes.

He does not miss them, though, so Pac wriggles out and pulls Cellbit into a proper hug.

"He's safe now," Pac repeats Cellbit's words back to him. "And once he's healed, we'll find Mike, and Richarlyson, and find a way off this island. Just like we promised, right?"

"Right," Cellbit says, between silent tears. "Exactly. And I've got-"

"To sleep more," Pac finishes. "You don't think as well when you're tired."

"I've got to watch Forever."

"I mean tomorrow night," Pac rests his chin on Cellbit's head. "It's my turn to sleep now."

"Alright."

Despite the words, neither of them move an inch. Tonight, Pac falls asleep on that sofa, and in the morning he'll wake with his head in Cellbit's lap.

[driftingvoid-155]

love the new au it's so fun ee

i wanna hear more about your ghost phone guy. does he have a hard time processing the fact that he's a ghost? also does he possess the phone on purpose to have a physical vessel or does it happen on accident (and if it's on accident how does he feel about it)? is he conscious pretty soon after dying or does it take a bit for his soul to do it's thing so he becomes a ghost? (sorry if any of these questions don't make sense it's 1 am and wording things is hard i just really like phone guy)

:D thank you!

Okay Phone Guy! Gonna answer you're questions and then imma ramble :)

Does he have a hard time processing the fact that he's a ghost?

Not really. He doesn't remember a lot about his old life (a common thing in ghosts. They'll remember people who were close to them and larger events but all the inbetween things and small details are very murky) so he's sort of just chill with now being a ghost. He's a bit mad over the fact he was murdered at a low paying night shift job but after being around the ghost kids, he doesnt blame them and just sort of accepts the fact this is his existence now, even though he's a little huffy over the fact he can't stray too far from the phone.

Does he possess the phone on purpose to have a physical vessel or does it happen on accident (and if it's on accident how does he feel about it)?

On accident. He didn't mean to possess anything but with two of the main ways ghosts are mad being brutal deaths & fear, it sort of happened anyway (the proximity of other ghosts was also a contributor so seeing as the place was already 'haunted'/ had ghost energy floating around, it was a lot easier to stick around). While he was killed by being shoved into a suit, his main moment of fear was when the animatronics first got into the office and Foxy catching him with his hook which resulted in his blood being spilled onto the phone on the desk. After that, he sort of accepted the fact he was going to die and the result was him possessing the phone.

Is he conscious pretty soon after dying or does it take a bit for his soul to do it's thing so he becomes a ghost?

It doesnt take too long. From the time he's killed to Mike and Jeremy running into him, it's been less than a month. It took about a week for him to form and actually come into conciouness and then about another to actually figure out what happened and how to handle his new existence.

Okay rambles!

So while he doesn't remember a lot about his life, he does remember his name. However, he never really liked it and especially now feels detached from it seeing as he feels like a different person than he was when he was alive so when Jeremy asks, 'so guy in the phone, what do we call you?' he just sort of chuckles and says, 'phone guy' and seeing as he gives them no other name, that's the one that sort of sticks.

Overall as a ghost, he's very aware. His personality and mind are about the same as when he was alive and the only thing he really struggles with are memories but he's not prone to bouts of rage and emotion like some other ghosts are. He can't stray too far from the phone and describes it a little like being in a car. He can see and somewhat hear the things going on around him and while he can 'open the door' and interact with those outside it, it's like there's something tethering him to it so the further away from it he is, the weaker his 'communication' is.

He finds it easiest to talk with other ghosts and after becoming one, he sort of starts looking out for the kids in the restaurant. They automatically assume every night guard is their killer and he's sort of the one that reminds them each night that the person in the security office isnt the one who killed them. This is actually how Mike and Jeremy figure out he's around as they suddenly notice a shift from the animatronics trying to break in every night to them being more mellow.

Phone Guy watches Mike and Jeremy for a bit, a bit fascinated with the both of them and this whole new supernatural world he's now a part of. He actually reaches out to Mike first through the logbook but Mike is unaware who it is he's talking to though him and Jeremy eventually put it together that he is also there along with the kids.

While he doesn't mind being a ghost or the fact the ghosts there murdered him, he is pisses about the fact the company covered up his murder. There's no mention of him in the papers or the news and it makes him wonder how many guards before him might have been killed and makes it sort of his mission to get to the bottom of who it is covering up the murders. It calms his mind to know that Mike and Jeremy really can't die and the two also promise to stay on the night shift for as long as it takes to either get the kids to move on, or to figure out who keeps covering up the murders. However, he can't exactly look into much seeing as he can't really move from the building so Mike and Jeremy help him with looking into things and even stealing him (the phone) from the restaurant now and then in order to bring him along.

[asmutwriter]

You Saved Me (Part 12)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 10) After a close run in with death, you decide to start anew. Ending up bumping into the last person you wanted to see

A/N - A shorter part but I was strongly inspired by the small confession he made to the priest in S10E16 (quoted at the end). Plus I needed a semi filler part that could link the next parts together and help develop the story line. And yes this is the third time I've tried writing part 12. I'm hoping this one will stick and I wont change my mind in the upcoming months

WORD COUNT: 2033

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: brief mentions of fire/arson, brief mentions of death, talk of injury, injury detail, guns, swearing, threat, fighting, mark of cain Dean, knives, jealous Dean, this whole part is mainly just angst

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

"You could just get off of work early"

"I told you I can't" you say to your friend. She watches as you clean the table she's sat at.

"Just say that you need to pick the kids up, then we can go home and drink ourselves to death"

"Im already going out with you on Friday night"

"Yes. You managed to get your new fancy fella to babysit for you" she wiggles her brows at you. "You sure you don't want me to look after the kids and you and him book a hotel somewhere?"

"No I do not" you say, a smile on your face. "He's coming over tonight anyway. Getting me and the girls fish and chips on his way back from work"

"Oh how romantic of him"

"Shut up" she smiles. Picking up her coffee with both hands. Sipping it. You hear a customer ask for the small in shop TV to be turned up. Drawing you, and the other customers attention to it.

''-known about what started the fire which resulted in the death of 5 people. 3 more injured. Police and firefighters worked hard to rescue as many as they could. Information still to come as we find out more. Now, the weather-"

"Jesus" you say. Taking the cloth you were holding. Folding it a few times.

"Those poor people". You take in a breath. Spraying some product onto your cloth before going to a new table. Wiping down the surface.

You spend the next few hours cleaning tables, washing up cups and plates, so on and so forth. Before it is time for you to leave your shift to go pick up the girls from school. The three of you listening and singing to the 'Tangled' soundtrack as you drive home. You get through the front door.

"Mike will be round within the next few hours. He's bringing chips and - because its a Friday - we can watch a film whilst we eat"

"Yay!" they both excalim. Dumping their bags down in the living room.

"But first I want you both to have a shower and do your homework, do you understand?"

"Yes mum" they both say, a dragging annoyance in their voice as they head to their bedrooms. You pick up their bags. Placing them on the pegs by the back door. Going over you start doing the dishwasher. Unloading it. Only a few minutes go past before you hear a knock at the door. You hear Lydia call out "I'll get it!"

You hear the door open. The voice of your child being heard. Met with hushed toned voices. You put the mug you were holding away, shutting the cupboard as you hear the front door shut.

You press the home button on your phone. Seeing the time. You frown slightly. Mike hadn't messaged you saying he was on his way. You pick up a tea towel. Drying your slightly dampened hands onto it as you start walking to the corridor. Placing the cloth on the side as you call out your daughters name.

"Lydia?" you get to the entrance of the corridor as someone walks past. You get made jump, not expecting someone so suddenly. Then a different kind of fear hits you. Dean Winchester turns to face you. You meet his eyes, a few seconds go by as you both analyze the situation.

He reacts first, his hand going to the back of his jeans as he goes to grab his gun. "Fuck" you mutter. Almost instinctly you kick him in the crotch.

"Crap" he gasps out, bending down slightly. Hands going to his groin as you lean over him, grabbing the gun from his jeans. You point it at him.

"Dean?" you hear Sams voice. He comes round the corner, seeing the situation. He goes to grab his gun out but you go closer to Dean, gun still aimed at him as he lifts his head up. Eyes on yours as you dart between the two men.

"I will shoot him" not to sure which one you're threatening at this point. Sam removes his hands from near his weapon. Placing them up in defeat. His eyes darting to the weapon, aimed right at his brother. Dean also putting his hands up in a slight surrender. Eyes watching you as the gun remains only a few inches from his face. "What did you do to my girls?"

"They're safe. In their bedroom" Sam says. Eyes still darting between you, his brother and the gun. He outstretches his hand slightly. Palm facing upwards as he half points to your gun. "Why don't we just all calm down?". You point the gun at the younger brother.

"You come into my home, both armed. Threatening to kill me and you tell me to calm down"

"Bad use of words on my part" he half smiles "why don't you just put the gun down and we can chat?". Dean moves towards you, grabbing at your hand. You bring your elbow up, hitting him in the face with it. He grunts, grabbing his nose as you re-aim the gun at him.

"Your brother is a demon" the younger brother nods slightly. Looking between the two of you

"Dean isn't a demon" he says quickly before you hurt him anymore. "He was a demon but he's not one anymore". Dean goes forward. Using your distraction by his brother to catch you of guard. He grabs your wrist. Twisting the gun out of your hand as he takes it. Aiming it at you as his deadpan face changes to a more cocky one. You put your hands up in defense. An annoyed huff leaving your lips.

"What do you want?"

"We're here about the fire that happened near here" Sam says.

"The one thats been in the news?" he nods. "So what led you to come to my house?"

"We believe that the fire was started by a witch" the older says "the fact that you are here, alive and breathing, makes me think the witch is you" he goes closer to you. Gun still aimed.

"Why would I be the witch? After years of hunting and killing monsters, why would I decide to become one"

"How else would you explain the fact that you're alive?" you stay silent. Eyes watching his. Your hand grabs the tea towel still on the side. Throwing it at Deans face. He reaches up. Grabbing it. You turn quickly. Grabbing the knife from the dishwasher behind you. Going close to him as you push the knife into his throat. He freezes. Bringing his hands up slowly, showing you his weapon near his head. Finger off the trigger. Sam draws his gun in the same instance. Aiming at you as you meet Deans green eyes.

"Sam. There is a letter on the side behind the knife rack. I want you to read it out allowed". He hesitates. Keeping the gun on you as he reaches to the paper. Struggling to open it with one hand. He reads it. Clenching his jaw as he looks up at you and his brother. Eyes going back to the paper as he begins to read it aloud.

"Miss Rose Marsh. Found unconscious in a hotel room with knife wounds and bruising around her neck. Three knife injuries in total. One to her thigh, two to her stomach. Unsure of what weapon was used to cause these injuries. No leads on who the attacker is". He stops talking. Trailing off as both the Winchester brothers take in what has been said. You confirm to them what they are thinking, moving away from the older but still holding the knife in an intimidating manner.

"My medical bill and police report. Confirming my injuries and recovery from the attack I survived. The one from a few months back. Now, if I was a monster who had taken the identity of a dead woman then I wouldn't have that letter. As I'd be dead"

"How are you alive then?" the younger questions. "The weapon that was used. You should be dead"

"Demons don't tend to check for a pulse once they attack their victims. Who's to say that I didn't pass out from my injuries. That my attacker assumed I had died. Not bothering to check for a pulse because-" you shrug slightly "why would they?"

They stay silent. Looking at each other. Both of them placing their weapons in the back of their jeans. Just as you hear the front door open.

"Oh honey! I bought us chips!" you hear a voice exclaim. Walking into the kitchen, his cheery smile dulling from his eyes as he sees you and the other two. "Who are these guys?"

"Who are you?" Dean says. His stare one of confusion and disgust as he looks at the well kempt and polite mannered man.

"I'm Mike" he says. Smiling still as he looks at the two men. "Rose's boyfriend". He motions to you. The older brother eyes the man up. Sam smiles slightly. Looking downward. "Who are these guys?"

"Detectives. I'm sorry what did you say your names where?" you look at Sam.

"Detective Mercury and Detective Dickinson" he goes into his jacket pocket. Taking out an FBI badge. Dean still giving him the death glare. "We are here about the fire that happened last night" he goes over to the counter top. Placing the two bags of food down.

"They were talking about it on the radio on my way over here. Poor souls" he looks at them again. "Why would the FBI be interested in a fire? Wasn't it just some terrible accident?"

"We think it might be arson". He brings an arm up and around your waist. Holding you close as concern fills his voice.

"Are we safe?"

"Yes. We're just going around the neighborhood to check up on people. See if anyone saw anything suspicious" he nods.

"Well, we were at home all night. So were the girls. We didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary". The younger nods. Smiling at you both as he takes out a business card. Handing it to Mike.

"If you do remember anything then please ring us" he smiles back at him, taking the card. "Thank you for your time. We'll leave you to enjoy your food" he looks at Dean. Who has not dropped his stern gaze from the man since he entered the room. "Detective?" he turns to face his brother. Who half smiles at him "We've over stayed our welcome by far to long. Lets go". They walk out the room. Leaving you and your boyfriend with the girls for the night.

"I can't believe she as a boyfriend" Dean says to his brother as they get in Baby.

"She is a grown up. She is allowed to date people"

"But he's so... clean" he laughs at his brother.

"Are you jealous of Mike?" he looks at him. A look of displeasure on his face.

"No" he looks back forward. The younger still watching him, half smile on his face. "Maybe. So what if I am"

"I get it"

"No you dont"

"Yeah I do. Rose is exactly your type"

"Shut up" he starts the car. "Even if she was - which she isn't - I'm still not jealous of Mike" The way he said his name was comical. Almost like he was trying to say a made up word. "I have nothing to be jealous of. He's to prim and proper for me to be jealous of him. Why would I want to be some posh twat?". Sam stays quiet. An amused look on his face as his brother keeps talking. "I just don't understand what she sees in him. He's nothing like what she deserves. She deserves the world. He can't give that to her. He'd be to worried that he'd mess up his perfect hair or his perfect suit"

"Yeah you're right. You're definitely not jealous of him".

"I said shut up" Sam lets out a chuckle. "What other leads do we have on this arson case then?". Sam chats. Going through their evidence as Deans thoughts wonder.

10E16 TIME STAMP 22:37

'What if I said I didnt want to die... yet? That I wasnt ready'

'Are you expecting to?'

'Always. The life I live. The work I do... I pretty much figured that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought that sooner or later I'd go out the same way I live - pedal to the metal and that would be it'

'But now?'

'Now um... recent... events... make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And... I dont know. I mean - theres things. People. Feelings that I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time'

'Go a little deeper, perhaps, than with Gina'

'Yeah... yeah. I'm just starting to think that maybe there's more to it all then I thought'

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