#nellblazers80schallenge

[whateveriwant]

Dreaming of Angels

Summary: Bucky finds himself dreaming about his girl. His gift from heaven. His angel.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warnings: violence (blood, guns, death), SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex), biiiig ANGST (like, astronomical levels of angst)

Prompt: "Just Like Heaven" - The Cure

A/N: Hello! So, I have to warn you: this is a sad one, folks. Tbh this got much deeper than I expected (wow that sounds pretentious), but that’s life, I guess. Let me just say that I know some of Bucky’s actions may be OOC, but I did it for the angst, alright? So don’t @ me, lol. Also, given the title of the song and this fic, I went pretty heavy-handed with the religious theme. As this is written from Bucky’s POV, I wanted to portray how he interprets the world/his views on religion – not necessarily the reader's. But if my use of biblical imagery makes you feel uncomfortable/unrepresented, then I want to sincerely apologize. It was truly not my intention to exclude anyone in writing this fic, no matter the religious associations I made. With all that being said, this was written for @nellblazer​ 's 80’s Challenge! Congrats on your 6k followers, Nell! To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy!

Bucky reclines in his beach chair, letting the sun warm his skin. For once, it's a lazy day. Apparently, supervillains take days off, too. Thus, a gathering of Shield agents and Avengers decided to visit the Stark-donated private beach for their welcomed day of respite.

While most of the beach-goers are out in the water – playing chicken fight, Marco Polo, and other silly games – Bucky is content to stay lounging where it’s warm and dry. He watches Sam get knocked off of Steve’s shoulders by a well-timed push from Wanda, chuckling as he resurfaces to splutter out a mouthful of water.

Bucky continues to watch his team’s antics when he notices a figure approaching his flank. He turns his head, seeing the new Shield agent walking up to him.

Well… “new” is a bit of a misleading title. She’s been an agent for several months at this point – definitely long enough for Bucky to have bred a healthy infatuation with her – but she’s still technically the newest addition to the organization.

She stands before him, her head eclipsing the sun – her own personal halo formed from the obscured rays. It’s beautiful. Ethereal. Angelic.

“Why are you all the way over here?” She asks, bright eyes looking at him curiously. “You’re so far away from everyone.”

Bucky blinks a few times, ridding himself of his dazed expression. He shrugs casually, “Just didn’t feel like getting in the water today.”

But it’s more than that. He’s used to being alone. It’s familiar. Comfortable. Safe.

“I hear ya,” she laughs, giving him a beaming smile. “I might go dip my toes, but I’m not trying to get my hair wet, you know?”

Bucky grins, nodding to show his understanding.

“Mind if I sit here?” She points to the vacant chair beside him.

“Not at all. Please,” he extends his arm, giving her the go ahead.

She smiles again before sitting down, letting out a low sigh as her eyes slowly drift closed. Bucky watches her for a few minutes, admiring the glow she emits – how the sun kisses and reflects off her skin. His eyes travel over the length of her legs, the curve of her hips, the dip of her clavicle.

Does she know how beautiful she is? How breathtaking?

She sits up suddenly, snapping Bucky from his drifting thoughts.

“I think I’m gonna go walk along the shoreline. Want to join?” She turns to him, a slight quirk to her brow.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he shakes his head.

“You’re sure?”

He gives her a half-hearted nod and shrug, choosing to stay by his lonesome like usual.

“Or... I can stay and keep you company, if you’d like.”

He shakes his head again, more fervently this time. “No, please, don’t stay on my behalf.” 

He doesn’t want her to stay out of a sense of obligation. Or worse: pity.

“You go on ahead. I’m okay by myself," he tries giving her an encouraging look.

“Well… alright,” she smiles, but there’s a sadness hidden behind her eyes. “But feel free to join me.” She stands, making a start towards the water’s edge.

Bucky watches her pad down the beach, walking towards the horizon. A trail of delicate footprints follow after her – left behind in the sand, waiting to be swept away with the tide. 

Does she see the way I look at her? Does she know how much I've fallen for her?

No, probably not. She’s too good for me; too pure. What would she want with this broken soul anyway?

He doesn’t verbalize his thoughts, but he projects them outwards – letting them be swallowed up by the waves. Breathed in by the cosmos. Known only by God.

~*~

Suddenly, the image shifts. 

She’s walking away from him again. But this time, it's into a bunker. It’s just the two of them here; Sam and Wanda cover the sky, Steve and a few Shield agents are tunneling through an underground entrance, and the rest are on the other side of the fortification.

Bucky’s never had a mission partner before. And honestly? He’s never really wanted one. He prefers to fly solo. It’s just quicker that way. Easier. Better.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself.

Because, if he’s going to actually be truthful, he was beyond relieved when he found out she’d be his partner for this mission. They’re walking into this practically blind – what little intel they have doing next to nothing in warning them of the potential dangers that await.

It’s not that she’s incapable of defending herself, nor is it that other agents would do an inadequate job of watching her back. Rather, Bucky’s just more assured that he’s the one who’ll be looking out for her today – that he’ll be safeguarding her.

They enter through the thick, concrete archway, quickly descending to the subterranean levels of the facility. Following the desolate hallways, they come up empty handed. No intel. No enemies. Nothing.

At a fork in the hall, she turns to Bucky, being all business.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” she nods towards the respective corridors.

“Why don’t we just stick together?” He asks, puzzled by her suggestion.

On any other mission with any other partner, Bucky would’ve happily split up. But given the circumstances of this mission and this agent he’s paired with, Bucky is hesitant to separate the partnership.

“We’ll cover more ground in less time,” she states matter-of-factly. “Really, Sergeant Barnes, as a military man, I thought you’d be all about efficiency,” she smirks.

“I’m more concerned with safety, actually,” his voice is completely devoid of humor.

That being said, she does have a point. If they take separate paths, they’ll cut their time in half – meaning the sooner they’ll get back to the safe confines of the jet outside. While they haven’t encountered anything yet – or more specifically, anyone – that doesn’t mean the rest of the bunker is threat-free. 

But despite the ‘what-ifs’ that could await them, Bucky relents to her suggestion – wanting to expedite the mission and get out as soon as possible.

“But keep your comms on and have that at the ready,” he adds with unwavering conviction, indicating the firearm in her hands.

“You got it, Sarge,” she says seriously.

They trek down their separate corridors. All the while, Bucky has her talk through the comms – telling him everything she sees and finds. Again, it’s a whole lot of nothing.

As they descend further and further into the earth, their comm link starts crackling – struggling to penetrate the yards of concrete between them. Bucky stops in his tracks, tapping at his earpiece.

"You there?" He asks her, getting silence in return. He says her name, trying to catch her attention. "Agent? Report back."

Again, he's met with zero response from her end. Then suddenly, her voice breaks through the silence – sounding garbled and choppy.

"Sergeant… surroun… half a doz… Help!"

Even if it weren't for the sentence fragments he hears, the panic in her voice has Bucky flying down the hallway at a break-neck speed.

I knew we shouldn't have separated. I knew something would go wrong if I wasn't there to protect her.

Worry runs rampant through his thoughts as he winds through the maze of corridors, frantically trying to locate her. 

As he nears another passage, Bucky hears shouting coming from the end of the hallway. Turning the corner, he stumbles upon a gruesome scene.

Five bodies litter the floor – crimson pools lying beneath each hole-riddled corpse. At least she put her gun to good use, a proud tone paints his thoughts.

Bucky turns one more corner, unfortunately finding the sixth and final foe still alive and well. What's worse, the man has Bucky's partner pinned to the wall – choking the life out of her.

Bucky doesn't hesitate; he raises his rifle and sends a bullet through the man's temple. The man immediately slumps to the ground – Bucky's partner similarly falling down now that she's no longer being held up by her throat.

Bucky races over, kicking the man’s body out of the way as he goes to kneel before her. Blood covers her face. Though most of it belongs to the corpse on the floor beside them, the sight still sickens Bucky – defiling her usual purity.

One of her hands holds her chest to collect her breath while the other holds her thigh to stanch a gunshot wound. Bucky unzips his tactical vest to rip off a piece of his undershirt – quickly applying a makeshift tourniquet around her leg.

“We need to get you to the jet,” he says resolutely. “Can you stand?”

She nods, still struggling to breathe. Bucky helps her to her feet and, as soon as she’s standing, she tosses her arms around his neck. At first, he thinks she’s just lost her balance. But then she tightens her hold on him, pulling him into a suffocating hug.

Bucky is stunned for a second. Then, tentatively, he reciprocates – firmly wrapping his arms around her waist. He holds her for a few moments in complete silence – every thought banished from his mind other than the feeling of her body against his.

He eyes an outline on the wall behind her: a splatter of blood in the shape of a downward facing crescent moon – her head accounting for the negative space in the pattern. It’s a terrifying image. A crown of blood. A red halo.

A few sobs shake her frame and Bucky shushes her, rubbing a comforting hand over her back.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispers. He stares at the impression on the wall a while longer before finally shutting his eyes, turning his head to press his lips to her hair. “I’m here. I’ve got you, Angel.”

~*~

The image shifts once more.

She’s in his arms again. But this time, she’s in his bed. She lies beneath him, bared in all her glory. Her hair is splayed out around her head, creating a halo of locks.

“Do that thing with your hips,” she bites her lip, giving him a faux innocent look. “The thing that makes me scream.”

“You mean this?” He grinds against her, his length rubbing her bundle of nerves.

“YES!” She cries out. “THAT!”

He chuckles, continuing to grind his pelvis against hers. He doesn’t enter her yet – just simply rocks to and fro over her sensitive bud.

Her brows knit together, absorbed in the feeling he stirs in her belly. “Keep that up and you can make me wifey tomorrow,” she pants.

Bucky suddenly halts his hips, drawing a pathetic whine from her mouth. “What did you say?” He asks, bewilderment coloring his voice.

“We can go to the courthouse first thing in the morning for all I care,” she says breathlessly, trying to appease him. “Just keep moving,” she wriggles in an attempt to find that much-desired friction again.

He grabs her hips, forcing her to keep still. Cocking a brow, he gives her a confused look. “I’ve never asked you to marry me.”

She shrugs, “I know.”

“Then why did you say that?” He’s not angry, just perplexed.

Sighing, she pushes him onto his haunches, sitting up with him.

“Because... I know you want to ask me,” she says carefully, gauging his reaction. “And yet, you’re stopping yourself,” she frowns.

Bucky is stunned. She’s right. Totally, completely, one hundred percent right. He’s wanted to ask her for a while, but he’s never followed through. He doesn’t know how many times he’s caught himself browsing rings before stopping, refusing to humor the possibility of a marriage with her.

Matrimony is considered holy for a reason. It’s meant for those pure of heart and soul; people like her. Not for the damaged and broken; people like him. 

Thus, he can’t bring himself to subject her to that – to tether her to him when there’s so many others who are right for her. Better. Worthy.

She places a palm against his cheek, gently cradling his face. He leans into her hand, savoring the warmth her touch radiates.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes, more than anything in this world, and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. So, if you’ll have me…,” she drops her hand from his face, grabbing his hand and weaving their fingers together. It’s a silent vow of unity. Commitment. Forever.

“...I’m all in.”

Bucky's speechless, his mind filled with disbelieving thoughts. This must be a dream. This seems too good to be true. This can't be real.

And yet, it is.

She wants him. This girl, this gift from God, this angel sent from heaven… wants him. Bucky's never felt more blessed in his life.

He rears forward, pulling her into a passionate kiss. She giggles against his mouth as he lays her back down, settling between her thighs. He lines up and slides into her with ease, feeling the way her warm walls hug him. 

Being with her like this is Earth-shattering. It steals his breath every time, lest his lecherous words desecrate such a wonderful, sacred act. 

This is bliss. Peace. Paradise.

~~~~~

Bucky wakes with a start, a whisper of her name falling from his lips. The bedsheets are twisted around his legs, trapping him in their cotton embrace. One of his hands is outstretched, grasping at the space beside him in bed. Cold. Empty. Alone. 

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about her.

But no, they’re not just dreams. Memories. Things he’d actually experienced once upon a time – what feels like a lifetime ago. Really though, it’s not nearly been that long.

He grabs the pillow beside him, burying his face in the silk. It doesn’t smell like her. It hasn’t in a long time. A choked sob leaves his throat and Bucky’s quick to wipe away his tears – not wanting them to stain the pillowcase; it’d just be one more thing of hers he’d ruin.

He tosses and turns, willing himself to fall back asleep. This time, hopefully, without her beautiful visage filling his dreams. He’s not sure he could handle any more tonight.

~~~~~

Several more nights pass and each one has Bucky dreaming about her again and again – getting progressively more difficult as the nights roll on. It’s torture finding such sweet solace in his dreams only to wake back up to his bleak reality.

Of all the terrible things that have happened to Bucky, this is the cruelest joke God’s ever played on him. Bucky should’ve known there was a catch to meeting an angel. To loving one and being loved in return. To calling her his. 

In truth, Bucky always knew she was never his. She always belonged to Him. She was just on loan – just another one of His creations that had a 'return by' date. And that date has come and gone.

Bucky can’t keep doing this night after night. Seeing her face, hearing her voice, feeling her skin, but knowing it’s just a dream – knowing he’ll wake up alone once more – is the most painful thing he’s ever experienced. He’s tried enduring it for her sake – really tried with all his might – but he can’t do it anymore. He’s not strong enough.

Bucky never thought it would come to this – that he’d ever willingly subject himself to the decision he’s chosen. Not after what Hydra put him through for so many years. 

It took a lot on his part to convince the rest of the team, but he was able to make them see that this is the only thing that can mend his broken heart. Splintered soul. Fractured mind. 

Call him a coward, but it was easier being alone when he didn’t have anything else to compare it to. It wasn't quite living – that Bucky is certain of – but it was better than the mere surviving he does now.

His fingers graze the picture frame in his hand. He’s collected all of the other images of her, but this is the last one – his favorite one. Thus, he wants to enjoy one last look at it. 

She stands in a field of coral- and blush-colored peonies, a golden sun setting behind her. She smiles brightly at the camera. Glowing. Beaming. Radiant. Bucky traces the angle of her jaw, the curve of her lip, the line of her neck – all the places he used to do on her warm flesh. That feeling's now replaced by the cold glass in the frame.

“I love you,” he whispers, tears pricking his eyes. And if God is merciful... “Maybe I’ll see you again some day.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against the glass. As the tears obscure his vision, he wipes them away – needing his final look at her to be through clear eyes.

“Goodbye, Angel.”

He sets the frame face down before exiting the room, heading to where Wanda waits for him.

~~~~~

Bucky paces back and forth in his room. He’s restless, but he’s not sure why. He feels like this day is important – that there’s something he should be doing – but he can’t remember what exactly. For all he knows, it’s just another mid-Spring day.

As he continues his tread, he hears a noise coming from the hall. Peeking into the corridor, he sees the remainder of the team not currently on a mission walking by. They’re dressed well – in their “Sunday best” as Bucky’s mother would’ve said – and Steve’s even holding a bouquet of some kind of pink flowers.

“...gonna visit her like we do every year,” Bucky hears Steve say. “He’d want us to, even if he doesn’t remember.”

Bucky steps into the hallway, curiosity piqued. “Who are you visiting?” He asks the group, stopping them in their tracks. “And why are you dressed like that? It’s like you’re going to church.”

They’re all silent for a moment, exchanging unreadable looks with one another. Finally, Steve speaks up. “Uh… we’re visiting my mom, Sarah. It’s the anniversary of her passing so I wanted to leave her these,” he gently waves around the flowers.

“And we thought we’d come along for, um, moral support,” Wanda adds, gesturing to her and Sam.

Oh. So that’s why Bucky felt like today held some importance. He’d apparently forgotten the date of Sarah Rogers’ passing.

“Do you mind if I come along?” Mrs. Rogers was an important woman to Bucky – almost like a second mother to him – and he wants to pay his respects.

The group exchanges another round of looks before eventually conceding, nodding for Bucky to join them. He quickly changes into more formal attire before heading out with the others.

The trip to the cemetery is relatively quick. However, along the way, the congregation makes a stop at a local florist’s – picking up a couple of additional bouquets.

“For Winnifred,” Steve offers one to Bucky.

“Right. Thanks,” Bucky accepts the white roses, realizing he should pay his own mother a visit since he’ll already be there. And while he finds it strange, Bucky doesn’t question why two bunches of flowers were purchased from the shop; he figures it’s none of his business.

The group arrives at the cemetery and traipses along the cobblestone path. Everywhere they turn, they’re surrounded by a maze of headstones. A sea of epitaphs. A monument of loss. 

They stop first at Sarah Rogers’ grave. Steve hands Wanda the bouquet of pink flowers before placing the roses atop the headstone. He tilts his head downwards, saying a few words of grace, before standing in silence.

Bucky closes his eyes, internally reflecting on his own words for Mrs. Rogers. After a few moments, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s give him some time to himself,” Sam whispers.

Bucky opens his eyes, spotting Wanda rubbing a consoling hand over Steve’s back. Bucky looks over to Sam, nodding in agreement.

Bucky and Sam make their way over to Winnifred Barnes’ plot several rows away from where Steve and Wanda remain. Bucky sets the roses down before repeating his motions from earlier: closing his eyes and internally voicing his words.

After several minutes, Steve and Wanda rejoin their side – the pink flowers having disappeared from Wanda’s hand. Steve whispers something to Sam to which he nods.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Sam says, taking off towards the direction of the entrance.

Bucky watches after him, seeing him stop before another headstone.

“Would you like me to say a few words?” Steve asks, drawing Bucky’s attention back to Winnifred’s grave.

“Please,” Bucky gestures for Steve to go ahead.

As Steve begins talking, Bucky looks back over to Sam. He sees him press a kiss to his fingers before placing them against the headstone. Sam wipes at his cheeks, regaining his composure, before returning to the group.

Once Steve has finished his speech, the group heads to leave – having no other plots to visit. As they’re walking towards the entrance, Bucky dawdles at the back of the group. When he gets a chance, he separates from the others. He's curious to see who Sam paid a visit to and thus wants to investigate.

Bucky walks over a row or two, easily finding the plot he had seen Sam standing before. It’s a beautiful headstone: impressively large, rectangular-cut, white marble; someone must’ve really cherished this person to choose such an elegant monument for them. 

He notices the fresh, pink bouquet set atop the marble. It’s oddly similar to the one Wanda had been holding earlier, though, Bucky can’t imagine it is the same bunch. Why would Wanda have left it here?

Bucky doesn’t recognize the name engraved in the marble. While the woman shares his surname, so do many other thousands of people in New York. Besides, the hyphen in her name tells Bucky this woman is most likely not a blood relative of his – “Barnes” having been the surname she adopted from her partner in life.

He looks over the inscription on the headstone. There are no specific dates mentioned, just simply the years of her birth and death – the latter being only a few years ago. She was still a young woman – still had a long life ahead of her. He wonders what could’ve brought about an early demise for someone with so much life left to live.

Bucky reads over the rest of the engraved elegy. The last words impart a final goodbye from the woman’s loved ones.

A beloved daughter, friend, and wife. Rest in Paradise, “Angel”.

Bucky doesn’t know who this woman is, but whoever she was, she must have been deeply loved by those she left behind. And judging by the reaction Sam had while standing by her plot, she must have really been something special.

As with the other two graves he visited, Bucky thinks a few words of grace. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know her; it’s simply the respectful thing to do.

“It was nice to meet you…,” Bucky looks again at the plaque – the last word seemingly a term of endearment for her. “...Angel,” he addresses her.

The nickname rings with familiarity as it rolls off his tongue, but Bucky can’t place why. He lets his fingers lightly graze the marble as he passes it, walking back to join his team. After a day full of mourning, they all need a bit of a breather.

Once they arrive home, Bucky slinks to his room, shutting out the rest of the world with his door. He lays down in bed, closing his eyes as the sheets tenderly embrace him.

When it’s my time, will there be someone to leave me flowers? Would anyone ever want to?

Bucky doesn’t know the answers to these questions – completely unsure about what his future holds. For now, he’s resigned to continue living his life as he always has. 

Comfortable. Peaceful. Alone.

__________

A/N: I’m sorry, but I did tell you it was sad. Also, I hope I didn’t ruin this song for anyone. It’s actually quite upbeat and not at all depressing like this fic lol. Anyways, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[sophiria]

Him, You and Him

Warnings and tags: dubious consent, smut, scenting, cloning and clones, science experiments

Story Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,114

A/N: Written for the The 80s Challenge. Thank you for hosting @nellblazer​!🧡

And thank you to my beta @imanuglywombat​ ♡

Theme: Weird Science

Summary: He’s not truly gone.

AO3

Euphoria swelled within your veins. After being holed up in Bruce Banner's lab for almost a year, it was finally time to announce to Nick Fury and the Government that the experiment had worked.

And most importantly, it was time to announce to the World that Steven Grant Rogers was back.

Despite your extensive studies in bioethics and your current role as Avenger's bioethicist, sorrow had driven you to take part in the first human cloning experimentation. When it came to having your mentor back in your life, you dove in and never looked back.

You almost didn't believe Helen Cho when she told you that the somatic nuclear cell transfer worked at an increased speed. And thanks to the super-soldier serum contained in his enhanced cells, Steve's human clone was currently resting in a scientifically enhanced cocoon in a top-secret lab inside the New Avengers' Tower.

Bruce called you to witness his awakening, excited for the success of the scientific operation, but also for the prospect of having his friend and Captain back on the team.

"He's 100% our Steve Rogers," Dr Banner told you enthusiastically. "However, I must warn you," he continued, "he'll be a bit disoriented, and his emotional response might not be what you would expect."

But you didn't care. You had Steve back, and that's what mattered.

"It's okay," you told him. "I just want to see him."

Your nerves hummed with delight as you approached the top floor lab. The Shield Agents guarding the place greeted you politely, and then let you in. 

The clone, Steve, was looking over the skyline of New York City.

You couldn't help but lick your lips as you observed his broad back's taut muscles. He wore only a pair of black boxer briefs and seemed to have discarded the robe they had given to him. You were sure that he heard you coming in, but he didn't turn around. 

You cleared your throat to get his attention, and he inhaled sharply. "Come closer," Steve told you as he spoke for the first time, voice low and deep. "I won't bite you,".

Goosebumps raised on your skin as you swayed your way up to him. He slowly turned around and smiled at you, extending both of his hands for you to take. A soft smile surfaced on your lips as you took the invitation.

He ran his fingers over the skin of your wrists, seemingly lost in thought. "The original version of myself," he began as you anchored your attention on his face, "he's very fond of you."

"Was," you corrected him.

He lightly nodded. "Was," he repeated.

Steve paused for a moment and then spoke up again. "I can feel his desires, needs and urges," he told you. "And I need you to help me."

You nodded. "Of course, Steve," you vowed. "Anything."

A smile dangled on the corner of his lips. His right arm immediately curled around your waist, tugging you to his chest as you gasped.

"What are you doing?" You muttered, staring at him with wide eyes.

He put his free hand over the nape of your neck, clamping his fingers into your flesh. He ran his nose along the skin of your forehead, sniffing it, and you stiffened in his arms.

"Relax," he rasped. "I need to feel your skin against mine."

You gulped. "Why?" You asked as you breathed against his neck.

"Your scent," he grumbled as your brows furrowed. "It's relaxing. It was for the original Steve, and it is for me."

He scented your face and neck for a few minutes, clutching your body to his own.

He suddenly took a step back and eyed you up and down. "Undress and get on the table," he ordered as you gaped at him. "I need skin to skin contact, or I won't be able to recharge."

You didn't move from your spot as your heart slammed against your ribs and beads of sweats started to cover your skin. 

Was this part of his unusual emotional response?

Steve saw you faltering. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing at you. "You said you'd do anything," he reminded you and then whispered your name. "Listen to Captain Steve Rogers."

You glanced sideways as you began to undress slowly. You felt uneasy and aroused at the same time. Your original Steve never displayed a sexual interest in you, but his clone seemed to think otherwise.

You took a step towards the large, stainless steel table. Steve immediately picked you up by your hips and spun you around to face him. He hooked your legs around his waist and positioned himself between your thighs. 

You jolted as you felt his cock pressing over your clit and a warm hand splayed on your back, keeping your chest pressed over his.

He grasped your chin and tilted it up, staring fixedly at you. He brushed his lips against yours and then plunged a middle finger inside your pussy. You shuddered in his hold, feeling him curling it against your g-spot. 

You arched your hips as your skin prickled. Steve started to rub your clit, and your breath hitched as you came. 

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked your juices off.

He spun your body around once again and pushed you over the table, your chest pressing over the cold steel. He grabbed your hips and tilted them up. 

You made a strangled noise as you felt his cock prodding your entrance. He dug his finger into your shoulders and snapped his hips, burying himself to the hilt. You bit back a moan and clenched around his length, making him groan.

He pulled your hips down harder and pounded into you at a furious pace, your moans and his grunts mingling together.

You arched your back as you pulsed around his cock and he groaned, coming inside of you.

You felt his chest pressing over your back as an arm slipped from under you and held you to himself. "So warm," he sighed, his breath tickling your ear. 

You were stunned, no thoughts of what to do next as you laid limp under him.

Was this just biology? Or was there more? He was Steve's clone. He should share everything with him. But you didn't know your original Steve to have such -

You froze as you heard the lab's door opening, and your blood ran cold once you saw who stepped foot into the room.

 A familiar pair of blue eyes met your startled ones. 

"Oh, Sweetheart," Steve, your original Steve, taunted.  

"You are in so much trouble."

---

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore​

[batterycityghoul]

Love’s Strange (Billy Hargrove/Reader)

Title: Love’s Strange

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/f!Reader; background Steve/Nancy/Jonathan

Summary: Written for the ‘The Breakfast Club’ prompt for The 80s Challenge by @nellblazer​ . “You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room. “

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: Underage drinking

Author’s Note: Set after season two of Stranger Things. Title taken from Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds. Principal Himbry is very much so based on the principal from Scream. I couldn't resist.  Masterlist / Read on AO3

You thought the whole concept of Saturday detention was bullshit. You didn't understand what the point was of coming into school to waste half of your weekend. You would have preferred staying after school every day for a week than giving up your Saturday.  

It wasn't as if you had anything planned, though. You would sit in your room, listening to music, and ignoring that the rest of the world existed. You would probably catch up on homework or finish the assigned novel for your English class. You didn't lead the most exciting life, but you really didn't want to spend your free time stuck in detention.

You knew what people thought of you at Hawkins High. They thought you were quiet. They thought you were a nerd who only focused on your grades and had no fun whatsoever. You usually didn't care what anyone thought about you, though. You were there to get your diploma and then get the hell out of Hawkins.  

So what if you didn’t spend your weekends at parties or had a full social life? You didn’t know why you would bother to waste your attention on the other kids at Hawkins High anyways. They had never given you any consideration and you weren’t really jumping at the opportunity to try to change their minds about you.  

At the end of the day, they had already made up their minds about you. Did it bother you sometimes? Sure. Were you tempted to try to change their opinion of you? Not really.  

You sighed as you pulled open the front door to the school. You had been forced to walk to school, since your parents were out of town and you didn't have your own car. You didn't mind the walk, but since it was almost Thanksgiving, the air had a chill to it that took your breath away.  

Once you got inside, you started pulling off your gloves.  

"I see you've finally showed up," you heard from in front of you.  

You glanced up to see Principal Himbry standing there, an unimpressed look on his face.  

"I had to walk," you offered helplessly.  

"That's no excuse," he said. "All of you little delinquents are late." He sighed before he glanced down at his wristwatch, shaking his head when he noticed the time. "You'll be in the library. I suggest you get there now," he snapped before he brushed past you to step outside.  

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way to the library. You weren't sure who you would be sharing detention with, but you hoped it wasn't any of the idiots you had come to dislike during your time at Hawkins High.  

When you got to the library, you noticed it was eerily silent. You considered the row of three tables taking up space in the middle of the room. Each table only had three seats, so there weren't a lot of seating choices. You were glad you were the first one in the room, since that meant you got to choose where you wanted to sit.  

You made a beeline for the table at the back. You chose the middle seat, hoping it would dissuade anyone from sitting at your table.

You sat in the silent library for long enough that you started to wonder if you should try to find something to read to pass the time. Just as you had convinced yourself to get up, the door to the library opened and three people walked inside.  

You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Steve Harrington striding into the room followed closely by Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers. Nancy shot you a quick look before she moved to take the middle seat of the first table, Jonathan and Steve flanking her.  

You were more than a bit surprised to see Nancy and Jonathan. They were a grade below you, but even you knew they were generally regarded as good students. Seeing Steve wasn't as much of a shock. You had a few classes with Steve and while he seemed like a level-headed guy, he also had a habit of bickering with Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove and disrupting class.  

You really hoped neither of them showed up for detention, because you were sure it would lead to more bickering and fighting between the boys. You only wanted to do your time and get home to enjoy what was left of your weekend. You really didn’t want to get pulled into any drama.  

You were starting to get your hopes up that it would only be the four of you, but then the library door opened once again and your hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of Billy Hargrove being escorted inside by Principal Himbry. Himbry had a hand on Billy's elbow, as if he thought Billy was about to make a run for it if he didn't personally usher him inside the room.

Billy jerked his arm out of Himbry's grasp. "I told you I know where the library is," he insisted. "I didn't need your help."

"Your grades would suggest otherwise, Mr. Hargrove. Take a seat."

Billy rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to say anything as he moved forward. You noticed Steve's shoulders tense as Billy brushed past him, but you were quick to drop your gaze to the table in front of you when you noticed Billy's attention focus on you for a moment.  

You were aware of Billy dropping into the middle seat at the table in front of yours and felt relieved that he didn't choose to sit at your table. If there was anyone who didn't mind pushing boundaries just to get a rise out of people, it was Billy Hargrove.  

You didn't bother looking up again until Mr. Himbry spoke. "I know you five think you've been given a free pass to just sit around and do nothing all day, but that's not how Saturday detention in my school is run."

Billy snorted as he tipped his head back, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Please, enlighten us," he remarked.

Mr. Himbry shot Billy an exasperated glare. "I want you to write me an essay," Mr. Himbry started as he moved over towards the librarian's desk. He grabbed a small stack of loose-leaf notebook paper and a handful of pencils before he started distributing them among the five of you. You frowned down at the blank paper in front of you before you glanced up to see Himbry standing back in front of the door, his hand on the doorknob as if he was about to leave the room.  

You hastily raised your hand, hating that you were going to call attention to yourself.

"What?" Himbry asked when he noticed you.

"What are we supposed to write about?"

You heard Billy groan as a smirk appeared on Himbry's face.  

"I'm glad you asked. I want you to write me an essay about your character. Explain to me why what you did was wrong and how you're going to improve so it doesn't happen again."

Billy raised his hand. "But, sir, what if we're not sorry? What if we like our choices?" His voice had a mocking tone to it and by the annoyed expression on Himbry's face, you were sure he caught it.

"Mr. Hargrove, I hope out of anyone in this room, you will take this day to reflect on your bad decisions. You’ve certainly made a lot of them since you decided to grace us with your presence."

Billy leaned back in his chair as he kicked his feet up on the desk in front of him. "That'll be the day," he commented.

"I am sick of your attitude, Mr. Hargrove," Himbry snapped. "You just earned yourself another Saturday detention."

Billy chuckled as he moved to pull a stick of gum from the outer pocket of his jacket. Mr. Himbry crossed over to him and held his hand out.  

"And no chewing gum in the library. It's bad enough you kids stick it under the cafeteria tables. We don't need that in here either."

"Sure thing, Mr. Himbry," Billy replied as he handed over the stick of gum.  

He waited until Mr. Himbry's back was turned before he pulled out another piece, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. When he realized he had your attention, he shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit even to yourself that you found Billy Hargrove dangerously charming, even when he was being a bit of a dick.  

Mr. Himbry turned to survey the five of you. "I want those essays finished by the time you're allowed to leave here today," he said. "You will stay right here in this room. No going off into one of the private study rooms. If I think you've left your seat when I get back, I'll add another Saturday to your sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aren't you going to stay here?" Steve asked.  

"I have better things to do with my time than watch you all day, Harrington. I'll be locking you all in so I can be sure you won't leave."

"But, sir, isn't that a fire hazard?" Billy’s tone suggested he didn’t really care, but he just wanted to piss off Mr. Himbry by bringing it up.

"Shut it, Hargrove. You’re lucky I gave you detention and not suspension for smoking on school grounds,” Mr. Himbry responded, a displeased look on his face.

Billy held up his hands in surrender before he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He rocked back in his seat, not caring that his head was dangerously close to the edge of your table.  

Mr. Himbry sighed and shook his head. "At least you're graduating this year," he grumbled before he turned and left the library.  

You had no intention of actually writing the essay. There was no way Himbry could grade you on it, so there was no point in actually wasting your time on it. Instead, you grabbed the pencil he had left for you on the desk and started doodling in the margins of the paper. You were mindlessly drawing stars and scribbling snatches of lyrics from some of your favorite songs when you were torn out of your thoughts by Billy's voice.

"I should have known you would live for that extra homework bullshit," he said. When you glanced up, it was to see Billy sitting back up in his chair, his feet planted on the floor once again as he considered you over the top rim of his sunglasses. "Did you get turned on by the thought of writing another boring-as-shit essay, Miss Honor Roll?"

You shot him a glare before you bent back over your paper. You made sure to print the letters large enough on the page to be able to read them at a distance. You held the paper up so Billy could read your message to him.

His lips stretched in a smirk as he read the words. "Fuck off, huh? Such language from such a pretty girl."

"Just leave her alone, Billy," Nancy cut in, shooting a glare at Billy over her shoulder.  

Billy turned back around in his seat, facing the table in front of him. "I'm surprised to see you here, princess," Billy said as he leaned forward in his seat, his gaze set on Nancy and Steve in front of him.

Steve turned around, a scowl on his face. "Hey, don't call her that."

Billy smirked. "I was talking to you, Harrington."

"You're a real asshole. Do you know that?" Steve snapped, turning fully in his seat so he could consider Billy.  

"So I've been told," Billy drawled, seemingly unaffected by Steve's words.  

"Why the hell are you even here, Hargrove? I would have thought you were above showing up for a Saturday detention."

"Oh, but then I would have missed seeing your face, Harrington. I couldn't possibly go a day without it."

"Just do what Y/N said and fuck off, Billy," Steve spat.  

Billy chuckled before he pressed his hands to the surface of the table, pushing himself up to stand. "With pleasure," he hissed.  

You watched him move over towards the library doors. When he reached out to try to open them, they didn't budge.  

"That dick actually locked us in," you couldn't help saying. You really didn't think Mr. Himbry would go so far as to lock you all in the library. What if something happened? What if you needed to leave?

Jonathan glanced at you over his shoulder, a surprised look on his face.  

Steve snorted as he leaned back in his seat. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Because that's just what today needed."

Billy turned around, his focus immediately going to you. "There you go with that smart mouth again," he said as he leaned back against the locked library doors. "How did you even end up in detention in the first place? Aren't you the perfect little teacher's pet?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to grab the paper and pencil from the desk. You pushed yourself out of your chair and then made for one of the private study rooms dotting the perimeter of the room. You didn't care if Mr. Himbry had forbidden it or if you ended up being punished for it. You would do just about anything in that moment to get away from Billy Hargrove and his insufferable attitude.  

"Oh, we've got ourselves a rebel!" Billy called after you.  

You didn't bother to look back at him or the others as you pushed the door closed behind yourself. You let out a sigh of relief when you dropped into one of the chairs found at the table in the middle of the room. You were sure you would be even more bored all by yourself in the study room, but you didn't care. If it gave you just a few moments to yourself, then you would happily take it.  

You spent a couple of hours by yourself, absently drawing your own constellations on the paper and trying to find ways to entertain yourself.  

You were thankful that it was warm enough in the room that you could slip off your jacket. You weren’t sure if the others were talking or even bothering with each other, because you couldn’t hear a thing from the main room. Sitting all alone in the study room without music or anything else to occupy your time was mind-numbingly boring, but you couldn’t help but think it was better than potentially listening to Steve and Billy fight all day.

You were starting to get sleepy and seriously considering balling up your jacket to use as a pillow when the door to the study room abruptly opened. You were startled enough that you almost tipped out of your chair.  

"Get out of there," you heard Mr. Himbry snap behind you.  

You sighed before you made yourself get up. You grabbed your things before finally turning and looking at Mr. Himbry. He sighed and shook his head, disappointment clear in his expression as you brushed past him.  

"I'll see you here next Saturday," he told you.

Billy was sitting in the seat you had originally claimed, his sunglasses still on his face. When he saw you, he smirked at you. "Looks like I won't be lonely next Saturday after all."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to sit in the middle seat of the second table.  

Mr. Himbry sighed as he passed your table. "Now, if you didn't bring lunch, which I don't think any of you thought to do, then there are pre-packaged sandwiches and chips that can be found in the cafeteria." He moved to stand near the librarian's desk, his gaze fixed on the five of you as he considered you. "You," he said as he pointed at you. "And Harrington," he added after a few moments. "Go to the cafeteria and get lunch for everyone."

Steve glanced at you before he pushed himself to his feet. You were quick to follow, glad that you would be able to leave the library for just a few moments.  

"And don't take more than ten minutes," Himbry called out. "Or it's another Saturday for the both of you," he warned.  

You really didn't want to spend your weekends leading up to Christmas in detention, so you simply nodded your head and followed Steve out of the library.  

You didn't really know Steve Harrington all that well, even if you had been in classes together for years. However, everyone at Hawkins High knew who 'King Steve' was, even if he had recently fallen from the ridiculous heights of popularity he once seemed to enjoy.  

"So," Steve started, shooting you a glance as he swung his arms idly at his sides. "Y/N, right?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, amused by the question. "Yeah. Steve, right?" You jokingly asked.  

Steve rolled his eyes before carding his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.  

"I'm just trying to make small talk. I don't really know anything about you except that you're one of the smartest kids in our class. How the hell did you even end up in Saturday detention?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I'm more than just a nerd, King Steve."

"Alright, alright. Point taken."

"How did you end up with Saturday detention?"

Steve bit his lip before he shot you a grin. "I told Tommy H. to go fuck himself. Himbry overheard."

"Huh," you breathed. "Knowing Tommy, I'm sure it was deserved."

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a laugh. "Now will you tell me how you got detention?"

"Nope," you answered.

Steve laughed again, shooting you an amused grin, before he shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to like your secrets."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Harrington."

"Yeah? I guess you are."

A companionable silence fell over the two of you once you reached the cafeteria. You helped Steve grab the food helpfully waiting for you on the lunch table closest to the door leading to the lunch line. You caught a glimpse of one of the women who regularly worked in the cafeteria through the open door. She raised her hand in a wave when she saw you and you offered her a smile in return.  

When you got back to the library, Mr. Himbry was pointedly looking at his wristwatch. "Another minute and you would have added another Saturday to both of your sentences." He considered the both of you, a scowl forming on his face. "And where are the drinks?"

"Uh," Steve started, shooting you an uncertain look. "You didn't mention anything about drinks, Mr. Himbry," he pointed out.

"It was implied, Mr. Harrington." Himbry sighed before he glanced away. "Wheeler and Byers," he called, snapping his fingers at the pair. "Go get drinks for everyone."

Nancy frowned, but didn't say anything as she got out of her seat. Steve watched Nancy as she passed by him, a look of longing on his face. You had heard about his brutal breakup with Nancy at Tina’s Halloween party and you couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. By the look on his face, you figured it was safe to assume he wasn't over her.

You moved to take your seat again, dropping a sandwich and bag of chips in front of Billy.  

"Thanks, baby," he purred, sitting up in his chair.  

"Don't call me that," you snapped, shooting him a glare. You faced forward in your seat, noticing Himbry stepping out of the library and closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Steve and Billy.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Billy quipped, earning an eyeroll from you. "So, hey," you heard Billy say. "I heard an interesting rumor about Harrington."  

You saw Steve's shoulders tense, but he didn't bother to acknowledge that he had actually heard Billy.  

"I don't care," you answered, reaching out to slowly unwrap your sandwich.  

"I heard he's fucking both of them. Nancy and Byers." You heard Billy chuckle, as if amused by his own words. "The princess gets the freak and the jock. How's that for a fairytale ending?"

You noticed Steve's hands clench into fists. You only shared one class with both Billy and Steve, but that was enough to know that they had a complicated relationship. Billy constantly riled Steve up and thought it was hilarious when Steve finally snapped back. Hell, Billy liked to pick at everyone. You weren't sure if it was his own way of making sure he stayed at the top of the high school food chain or if he had another reason for bullying people, but you were sick of it.  

"You know what?" You said as you turned in your seat to look at Billy. You noticed his eyebrows rise in surprise, as if he didn't think you would actually be bold enough to stand up to him. "It's none of your business if they are in a relationship. You know whose business it is? Theirs. No one else's." You considered Billy for a moment, noticing the way he seemed to be studying you. "You know what I think, Billy?"

"Enlighten me," he retorted.

"I think you're lonely," you told him. "You spend so much of your time antagonizing other people so you don't have to take a good, hard look at yourself. Because once everything is said and done, all you have is yourself. And maybe you don’t like you all that much."

"You don't know a damn thing about me, sweetheart," Billy muttered, his tone close to a snarl.  

"Maybe that's because you don't want anyone to really look past those aviator glasses and that leather jacket," you pointed out. "Maybe if you let someone in, then you wouldn't feel the need to drag everyone else down with you. Maybe you should let someone lift you up."

Billy scoffed and shook his head. "That's the biggest piece of shit I've ever heard in my life."

You shrugged your shoulders, not bothering to respond as you turned back around in your seat.  

Steve was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face for a moment, before he grinned. You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself flush at his silent approval, before you began to pick at the sandwich in front of you.  

When Nancy and Jonathan got back, Himbry locked you in again.  

You thanked Jonathan when he handed you a can of soda. You noticed the way Steve reached out to clap a hand to Jonathan's shoulder and the soft smile Jonathan shot Steve in return. You couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to Billy's words, but then immediately felt guilty for even thinking about it. If they really all were in a relationship, then you told yourself it wasn't any of your business. Although, a small part of you couldn't help but feel curious.  

You picked at your lunch, not really in the mood to eat. You really just wanted to go home and fall into bed.  

An hour managed to crawl past. The silence in the library was almost unnerving. You had long run out of space on your paper, so you had taken to using your pencil to try to color in the full page.  

Every so often, you heard Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan all softly whispering to each other, but you were never able to catch what they were talking about. You didn't really want to eavesdrop, but you were so bored out of your skull that you were just about ready to try anything to stop yourself from banging your head against the desk as a form of entertainment.  

"I'm bored," Billy groaned, finally breaking the silence in the room.

"No shit, Hargrove," Steve snapped. "We're all bored."

"Well, I have something that'll help," you heard Billy say.  

You turned in your seat to see he was reaching into his coat. When he pulled out a flask, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Of course," you muttered to yourself, turning back around to face the front.  

"What?" Billy asked defensively. "You have something against making things interesting?"

"How is drinking going to make things interesting?" You wondered why Billy even thought to bring a flask to Saturday detention in the first place.  

"Because we're going to play a game," Billy said, reaching forward to poke at your shoulder.  

Steve turned in his seat, his eyebrow quirked at Billy. "You have to be kidding."

"Nope," you heard Billy say, a smile in his voice.  

You heard Nancy sigh before she turned to consider Billy as well. "What game?" She sounded like she didn’t really want to ask, but she was so bored she couldn’t help but grasp at any distraction.  

Billy was silent for a moment, as if thinking over his choices. You heard him snap his fingers before he spoke again. "Never Have I Ever," he offered.  

Jonathan snorted before he blushed when you all glanced at him, having obviously been caught off-guard by Billy's suggestion.  

"What? You've got something to offer, Byers?"

Jonathan sighed before he glanced at Billy over his shoulder. "Just thought you'd think something like that was lame."

"I'm bored, Byers," Billy drawled as he pulled his sunglasses off before putting them back in his jacket. "There's a hell of a lot I'd do to avoid that."

You heard Steve groan before he pushed his seat away from the table. "You know what? Fuck it," he conceded. "Sounds a lot better than sitting here in silence."

"I never thought you'd agree with me on something, Harrington."

"I still hate you," Steve told Billy, glaring at him.

"Feeling's mutual," Billy sneered.  

You shook your head, still working on shading in your piece of paper. You were going to have to get up soon and sharpen your pencil if you had any hope of completing your self-assigned project.  

"I'm out," you muttered. "You guys have fun."

"Oh, come on," Billy coaxed. "Live a little. Have some fun yourself for once."

"I don't want to play," you told him, not even bothering to look back at him.

"Why not? You scared I'm going to get to know you like you seem to think you know me?"

You finally turned and met his gaze, momentarily getting drawn in by the smug look on his face.

Playing this game with the others was probably a terrible idea. Steve had been right to guess you liked your secrets, and it was mostly because you were sick of other people judging you. You knew that Billy likely picked at people for the same reason you also didn’t let them in. You didn’t want others to see you and then decide you weren’t worth it.  

It was probably a terrible idea, but you really had nothing better to do. Besides, you didn’t like the challenging look on Billy’s face.  

"Fine," you finally bit out. "Let's play."

"Great," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "What about you, Byers? Wheeler? You in?"

Nancy rolled her eyes when Steve turned a pleading look on her.

"Oh, come on, Nance. Don't make me play by myself." His lower lip poked out in a pout and you saw the moment Nancy began to cave.

Nancy glanced to Jonathan, catching his hesitant nod, before a reluctant smile flashed across her face.  

"Alright," she agreed. "We're in."

"But how is it going to work with one flask between the five of us?" You couldn't help but ask. "Don't we all need our own drink?"

"We'll improvise," Billy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.  

"Wait," Nancy called, hastily getting to her feet. "Maybe we don't have to."

You frowned when she went behind the front desk and disappeared into the librarian's office. She came back after a few moments with a small stack of mini paper cups. "There's a water cooler in there," she explained. "These will make things easier at any rate."

"Alright, let's do this," Billy said, getting out of his chair.  

He moved to drop down into the seat next to yours while Nancy set the cups down in front of you. Steve and Jonathan had already turned their chairs to face your table and you felt weirdly flustered at the feeling of everyone focusing on you.  

"Look alive, nerd," Billy said, nudging you in the side with his elbow. "Make yourself useful and help me out here," he added, nodding at the cups in front of you.

You rolled your eyes before you reached out to grab the cups. You separated them, holding one out to Billy at a time as he poured a little of whatever was in his flask into each cup. You handed them out to the others as you went, wondering if this was such a good idea.

"Don't make me regret wasting the good stuff on you assholes," Billy said as he finished. He twisted the cap back onto his flask, shaking it for a moment as if checking to make sure he still had some left. "Plenty left to go around," he added. "So, who's going first?"

"I've got an idea," you said, reaching behind you to grab one of Billy's blank pieces of paper. You ripped the paper into pieces and wrote a number on each one. You made quick work of folding each piece and then mixing them up. "Okay, we'll just go in order of the numbers we choose."

"Smart," Steve commented, shooting you a quick smile, before he reached out to grab a number.

Jonathan ended up going first. He looked like he wasn't really sure what to say at first.

"Come on, Byers," Billy groaned. "Do you not know how to play?"

"I do," Jonathan assured, shooting Billy a glare. "Never have I ever," he started, trailing off for a moment. "Used a fake ID," he finally finished.  

Billy snorted before he downed his shot. You noticed Steve did as well.  

Steve scrunched up his face and shook his head, turning his head to cough into his sleeve. "What the fuck is that?"

"The good shit, Harrington," Billy said. "So shut up and drink up."

"My turn," Steve said, holding his cup out to Billy to refill. He seemed to think about what he wanted to say for a moment before he finally spoke. "Never have I ever played hooky."

You quirked an eyebrow at Steve. "Really?" You would have thought King Steve would have skipped school at least once before.  

"Really, really," he confirmed with a nod of his head before he smirked over at Nancy and Jonathan.

"Not fair," Nancy grumbled before she laughed and downed her shot, Jonathan not far behind her. You noticed Billy tip his head back as he had his second shot of the game.  

He glanced over at you when he noticed you watching him.  

"You're zero for two, sweetheart. You should join in on the fun."

"You're two for two," you reminded him. "Maybe you should start having a little less fun."

"Never," he said, smirking at you.  

You rolled your eyes, glancing away from him.  

"Your turn, Y/N," Nancy reminded you when you were silent for a few moments.  

"Right," you agreed, staring down at the '3' you had scribbled down on the slip of paper in front of you. You weren't really sure what to say. When you agreed to play the game, you seemed to have momentarily forgotten that you really hadn't done all that much. It made it easy to do your part now, sure, but you were about to make it clear how much of a social life you didn’t have. Maybe you really were as straitlaced and boring as everyone made you out to be.  

"Tick tock, babe," Billy drawled, knocking his shoulder lightly into yours.

"Don't call me that," you automatically said, barely even thinking about your response. "Alright, never have I ever been in a fist fight."

You noticed Steve, Jonathan, and Billy take a shot. You glanced to Jonathan, surprised that seemingly sweet and gentle Jonathan Byers had enough fire in him to have been in a fight.

Nancy went next, admitting that she had never been arrested.  

Billy and Jonathan downed a shot for that one.  

"You know, maybe I was wrong about you, Byers," Billy said. "You're quite the miscreant, aren't you?"

You noticed Jonathan's face flush, so you looked to Billy, figuring turnabout was fair play.

"Get on with it, Hargrove," you said, reaching out to tap your fingers against his slip of paper with the '5' written on it.  

"Patience, baby," Billy said. "I know how to make a good thing last."

You heard Steve groan and shake his head. "Stop flirting with the poor girl and just get on with it, Billy. This was your idea," he pointed out.

"Stop ruining my fun, Harrington," Billy snapped. He considered Steve for a moment before a wicked grin appeared on his face.  

You instinctively knew what he was about to say would likely be a dig at Steve.  

"Never have I ever," Billy started, pausing as if for dramatic effect. "Had a three-way," he finished after a few seconds.

You reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You hissed at him, shooting a quick, worried look at the three in front of you.

To your surprise, all three of them were taking a shot. You felt your eyes widen in surprise before you looked to Billy, noticing the satisfied smirk on his face.  

He leaned over until he was in your space. "Called it," he whispered, winking at you, before he pulled away.  

You hated to admit that you felt a tiny thrill at having Billy Hargrove so close to you that you could smell his cologne and feel his hair brush against your shoulder. You also would never admit that when he leaned away, it left you feeling just the tiniest bit bereft. You didn't understand why you seemed to have a bit of a crush on him. He did nothing but poke at people and call you pet names. He thought you were a stick in the mud and would probably never seriously glance your way when every other girl in the school was attracted to him and looking to get into his pants.

"Uh, earth to Y/N," Steve called. "You still playing?"

"What? Yeah," you answered, blinking at Steve. "What did I miss?"

"Byers here has never done drugs," Billy told you, watching you expectantly. When you didn't touch your cup, he snorted and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush.  

"My turn," Steve said. "Never have I ever flirted with a married person."

Billy was the only one to take a shot for that turn.  

"Why am I not surprised?" You echoed, fixing Billy with an unimpressed look.

"I can't help it if everyone knows I'm hot shit," Billy told you, seemingly unconcerned.

"You're one of those things," you muttered, ignoring Billy's scowl. "Alright, never have I ever had a friends-with-benefits relationship."

Billy smirked at you before he downed his shot. "We can fix that, you know."

"You're the last person I'd want to fix that for me," you told him, even though it was mostly a lie. Would you and Billy actually have any semblance of a functioning, healthy relationship? Unlikely. Would it be hot as hell while it lasted? Most likely.

You were able to take your first shot when Nancy admitted she never got stitches. You noticed Jonathan quirking an eyebrow at you in surprise, but you shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to get into the story.  

You hated to admit it, but as the game progressed and you got to know the others a bit more, you started actually having fun. You had managed to down a couple of more shots, admitting to being drunk at a family event and then later confessing to going skinny dipping.

"Never thought you would have had it in you," Billy said. He swayed in his seat, bumping companionably into you. "You've surprised me, angel."

You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to fess up that the only reason you had gone skinny dipping was because you had been completely alone and didn't want to get your clothes wet. Still, when Billy shot you a pleased smile, you couldn't help but gift him with one of your own.

You noticed that, to your ultimate surprise, you all seemed to be bonding. You were all so different, but it seemed one dumb party game was enough to bring you together, if only for a small amount of time. If only because all of you had nothing better to do in that moment.  

When Nancy admitted that she hadn't lied in the game, shooting a pointed look at Steve, you couldn't help but laugh when he begrudgingly drained his cup.  

"Okay, so I have played hooky before," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.  

"I knew it!" You pointed at him accusingly, catching the amused grin on his face.

It wasn't all fun, though. When you admitted that you never lost someone, Billy and Nancy both somberly took a shot.  

"I'm so sorry," you told them both. You knew Nancy must have been thinking about Barb. The aftermath of the discovery about Hawkins Lab and their involvement in Barb's death just a few weeks before had rocked the town. You knew that Barb’s absence had to be eating away at Nancy and couldn't imagine what it was like to lose your best friend.  

You noticed Steve's arm come up to wrap around Nancy's shoulders as Jonathan reached out to grab her hand. You glanced away from them, giving them a moment of privacy, as you considered Billy. You couldn't help but feel curious about his loss, but you knew it wasn't your place to ask. Instead, you reached out to cautiously squeeze his shoulder, before you drew your hand back. He gave you a lingering look, his eyes dipping down and then back up, as if checking you out.  

He cleared his throat, glancing over towards Nancy. "Alright, your turn Wheeler. What do you got?"

By the time the contents of Billy's flask were dangerously low, everyone was at least a little bit tipsy.

"Somehow, I doubt this was what we were supposed to do in detention," Jonathan said, glancing around at the group.  

"Yeah, this has almost been nice," you reluctantly admitted.  

"Enough for one more round left," Billy said, shaking the flask in his hand. He moved to stuff it back into the inner pocket of his jacket before he glanced at you. "Your turn, babe. Make it a good one."

You didn’t even bother to tell him not to call you that, since from the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew.  

It was then you noticed everyone's attention on you. You bit your lip, struggling to think of something interesting, but not embarrassing, to confess.  

"Never have I ever had sex in a car," you finally offered, shrugging your shoulders at Billy's incredulous look.

Only Steve, Nancy, and Billy ended up drinking to that. You glanced down to the shot in front of you before you looked to Jonathan.  

"We can be losers together," you told him, holding out your cup towards him. "Cheers?"

You saw a brief smile flit across his face before he reached forward with his cup to tap it against yours.  

"Cheers," he said before he drained his cup.  

Once you downed your shot, you noticed Billy staring at you.  

"What?" You felt suddenly defensive, not knowing why he was watching you so closely.  

Billy startled, as if he hadn't realized he was still looking at you. "Nothing," he immediately denied, shrugging his shoulders. "Just don't get how you can be so boring."

"What?" It felt like your stomach dropped at his words, a cold wash of dread crashing down on you.  

"You took the least shots out of all of us. You've done nothing," he added. "You just spend your days making all your little class notes and probably having wet dreams about acing your calculus exam."

You felt the good mood you had just moments before suddenly dissipate.  

"Leave her alone, Billy," Nancy snapped. "What has she ever done to you?"

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked, leaning forward and watching you in concern.

"Fine," you said. "Just regretting thinking that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't such a dick for a moment."

"Oh," Billy breathed on a helpless laugh. "So, you do have some teeth. There's the fight I was looking for."

"I would think you've had enough of fights," Jonathan told Billy, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I love fights," Billy argued. "Especially when I always win. Just ask Harrington here," Billy continued, gesturing towards Steve. "Or did you forget I just beat the shit out of your boyfriend a few weeks ago?"

It wasn't long before an argument broke out. It seemed that Billy just couldn't help riling up the others. You sat at the desk, picking at the side of your paper cup, and wished that detention was over. All you could think about was Billy calling you boring and thinking that you lived and breathed for nothing except school. You weren’t sure why his words stung, but they did.  

You jumped at the sound of the library door slamming open, Himbry standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"I can hear you kids yelling from just down the hallway. What the hell is going on in here?"

"Nothing, sir," Billy said, reaching into his jacket and pulling his sunglasses back out. He put them on, smirking at Himbry as he leaned back in his seat. "Just having a little friendly conversation."

Himbry snorted as he walked farther into the room. You noticed Nancy hastily reach out to grab the other paper cups and stack them again before hiding them beneath her chair.  

"I know better than to think there's anything friendly about you, Hargrove. I've had to suffer through having all of you in my school for some time now. You think I don't notice things? I notice things!" Himbry's face was starting to flush red in anger as his voice steadily rose. "You kids think you run this school, but you'll be out of here soon enough! And who's stuck here taking care of the next generation? Me," he hissed, pointing a finger at Billy.  

"Uh, Mr. Himbry?" Nancy hesitantly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped. "I've had enough of this and I obviously can't trust the five of you to follow rules. So, you're each going to a study room and you're going to stay there, by yourself, until Saturday detention is over."

"Fine by me," you muttered, already moving to grab your stuff.  

A couple of minutes later, you were back in the study room you had retreated to for solace earlier that day. You went back to trying to shade in your paper, hating that Billy Hargrove of all people had managed to get under your skin.  

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, glaring down at the progressively-darkening paper in front of you, before the door to your study room opened.  

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping it was Himbry telling you it was time to go home, but to your surprise it was Billy standing just inside the room.  

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders before he pulled his sunglasses off. "I was thinking," he said, moving to sit down in the chair beside yours.

"I didn't say you were welcome here," you reminded him.  

"Come on, Y/N," Billy said, grinning at you. "You can't tell me you weren't a little excited to see me here."

"I'm not excited to see you here. Get out," you told him, already turning away from him.

"Hey," he called, his tone softer than before. He reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist, tugging until you faced him again. "I wanted to apologize."

"What?" You blurted, thrown for a loop by his words. "You can't be serious. Are you just making fun of me again?"

"No," he insisted. "God, this is why I don't tell people I'm sorry. They always give me shit for it."

"You have to admit it's a little unexpected given your track record," you couldn't help but point out to him.

Billy brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous smile on his face that looked remarkably out of place. You were used to Billy practically oozing an obvious charm that he bestowed on anyone he thought he could get into bed. Otherwise, he was almost hostile, picking fights and mostly winning them. A nervous and awkward Billy Hargrove wasn’t something you thought you would ever witness.  

"You know, I've seen you around school before. You get this smile on your face when you think no one's looking. Like, you're away in your head and anywhere else other than this shithole. It's nice," he said.  

"You've noticed me? I thought you were too busy being too cool for someone as boring as I am."

"Oh, I've noticed you," he confirmed with a nod of his head. "And I shouldn't have called you boring. But I just always thought you were too good for me. You’re going to graduate top of the class and go to some fancy university in a big city. You’re better than Hawkins and you’re better than me."

"Maybe I am and maybe I’m not," you said, rolling your eyes. "But maybe if you stopped being such a dick to me, then you'd find that out for yourself. Maybe if you actually got to know me, then you would know that I have more to offer than my good grades."

Billy narrowed his eyes at you before a self-satisfied grin broke out on his face. "Alright, then," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We've still got at least an hour locked in here. What do you say to getting to know each other a little better?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Just talking?"

Billy held his hands up, palms facing towards you. "Just talking," he promised, even though the smirk on his face did nothing to convince you he wasn't lying.  

You thought that maybe Billy Hargrove wasn't capable of being alone in a room with a girl without making a dozen innuendos. You thought Billy Hargrove would have hit on you relentlessly or tried to goad you into doing something more than having a conversation. You thought Billy Hargrove would rather eat his own shoe than spend over an hour with you alone, simply talking and getting to know each other better.  

Billy Hargrove managed to surprise you.

During your time together, you learned that the loss he admitted to earlier during the game was his mom.

"She didn't die or anything," he told you, shrugging his shoulders as if unbothered by what he was saying. From the pained look in his eyes, you knew that he still obviously cared a lot. "But she ran out on me and I haven't seen or heard from her since. Left me in a pretty shitty situation," he confessed, carefully not looking at you. “She’s as good as dead to me now.”

"I'm sorry," you said, at a loss for anything else to say.  

"Whatever," Billy breathed, his expression smoothing out. "So, what did someone like you do to end up in here?"

You normally wouldn't have wanted to fess up, but after Billy had practically bared his soul for you just moments before, or as close to it as he ever got, you couldn't help but want to trust him with something of yours.

"I threw a book through Mr. Himbry's office window. Smashed it."

"What? That was you?" Billy looked almost impressed as he finally looked at you again. "Why the hell did you do that?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I was going to fail gym. I told him it was a bullshit requirement, but he wouldn't listen to me. I guess I got angry. He said the only reason I wasn't expelled was because I was top of the class."

"A hothead, huh?" Billy chuckled, an expression that looked a lot like fond amusement appearing on his face. "I can respect that."

As more time passed and Billy revealed more and more of himself to you, you couldn't help but wonder if he was ever this open and candid with anyone else.  

You talked about favorite movies and teachers you both hated. He told you about his car and you bemoaned your lack of one. You told him about some of your favorite books and he shared some memories about his favorite places in California.  

By the time the end of your detention was approaching, you felt like you had gotten to see a side of Billy Hargrove that no one else was allowed to.

"So, hey," Billy started, tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. "I was thinking I could help you out."

"With what?" You asked, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.  

"With some of your answers to that game. Or, I mean, lack of answers," he amended. "You barely got to participate. It's a little sad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not having sex with you in your car just because I've never done that before." Even if it is a nice car, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.  

He laughed, sounding genuinely amused by your words. "That's not what I had in mind," he muttered before he leaned forward in his chair. He reached out, tipping your chin up towards him, before he brushed his lips against yours. "This okay?" He quietly asked, pulling back only enough to meet your gaze.  

You nodded your head, pulling him back towards you. It was strange to think that you started the day dreading the sight of Billy Hargrove and now you felt almost breathless with anticipation while he was pressed so close to you.  

One little Saturday detention had somehow managed to change your opinion of him. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you really didn’t hate the turn of events that ended up with his lips pressed to yours and his fingers carding through your hair.  

The next time the door to your study room opened, it really was Himbry.

"Enough!" He snapped when he caught you and Billy making out. "It's bad enough that you two ended up in Saturday detention in the first place, but it’s even worse that you just couldn't respect my rules for even one day." He sighed, sounding oddly defeated. "Detention is over. Get out of here. I'll see you two here next Saturday." As he turned, you heard him mutter under his breath. "Honestly, between these two and the other three, I'm starting to wonder why we even bother with Saturday detention anymore."

When you turned back towards the table, you caught Billy looking at you.  

"What?" You couldn't quite read the look on his face, but it had you shivering in your seat.  

"Nothing," he answered as he reached forward. He pressed his thumb just under your jaw, a smirk on his face. "Looks like I helped you out with something after all."

You remembered his biting kisses to the skin he was considering with an intent in his eyes that you couldn't help but melt at seeing. You also remembered admitting earlier that you had never before gotten a hickey.  

"You're something else," you muttered, moving to gather your stuff. You briefly wondered if you would be able to hide the love bites Billy had gifted you with, but a part of you really didn’t want to.  

You left the study room, aware of Billy trailing right behind you.  

When you looked up, you noticed Nancy righting her blouse just outside the study room she had been confined to earlier. Steve and Jonathan were just right behind her, talking softly to each other.

It was then you suddenly understood Himbry's words from just moments before. You quirked an eyebrow at Nancy when she realized she had your attention and she blushed in response, shrugging her shoulders. You grinned at her before you mimed zipping your lips shut. She shot you a grateful look before turning towards Steve and Jonathan.

"Told you," Billy whispered in your ear.  

You glanced at him over your shoulder before you shook your head. “You better not go spreading that around school,” you warned him. “It’s not yours to tell.”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, but from the expression on his face, you hoped he agreed to keep his mouth shut.  

You walked out of the library, already dreading the walk home. You pulled your jacket back on, knowing that it would likely be freezing outside.

When you opened the front doors to the school, you shivered at the blast of cold air that greeted you.  

You hastily tugged your gloves back on and pulled your jacket tighter around you. You only made it a few steps away from the front doors before you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your jacket.  

"Hey, nerd," Billy called, an almost affectionate tone to his voice. "Let me give you a ride home. You'll catch pneumonia walking in this cold."

"And you care?"

"Just get in the car, Y/N," he groaned before nodding over towards his blue Camaro.  

You watched him step towards his car before sending you a questioning glance over his shoulder. You moved to follow after him, feeling a little exhilarated as you ducked into the passenger seat.  

The car ride to your house was filled with an almost awkward silence. You weren't really sure where you stood with Billy now that you weren't sentenced to spending time together. Were you friends? Something more? Surely friends didn't make out with each other, right? You had certainly never given any of your friends a hickey. But were you dating? Were you anything other than a Saturday detention fling to Billy?

By the time Billy pulled into your driveway, you had managed to almost convince yourself that the connection you thought you had forged with Billy was tenuous at best. He would probably never speak to you again past today and the thought hurt, even though you knew you didn't really have any claim to him or his time.  

You moved to get out of the car. You hated that he wasn't saying anything as you pushed yourself out of the car and closed the passenger side door shut behind you.

"So, Y/N," Billy called, looking at you through the open passenger window.  

"Yeah?" You pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering at the chill in the air.  

"Can I call you some time?"

You felt your breath hitch, your knees going a little weak at the expectant look on his face. He looked as if he was looking forward to the idea of speaking to you again.  

"Sure," you answered, trying to keep your tone even. If you let him know just how eager you felt for more of his time, then he wouldn't let you live it down.  

"Great," he said, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He shook one out before he placed it between his lips, his gaze going to you as he lit the end of the cigarette with a lighter he pulled from the glove compartment.  

You weren't really sure if you were supposed to leave now, but you couldn't help but say one more thing before stepping away from the car.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the next Saturday detention," you reminded him. A part of you really hoped that it was only going to be you and Billy there. You relished the idea of having Billy all to yourself.  

He smiled at you, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth to breathe out a cloud of smoke.  

"It's a date," he agreed.

[socksracoon10]

🆁🅴🆅🅴🆁🆃

Movie Prompt: The Shining – You move with your partner to a hotel where they are the new caretaker but it becomes evident they're slowly losing their mind

Pairing: Demon!Dean x F!Reader

Author’s Note: This doesn’t follow the storyline at all, whatsoever!! I’m not that good at writing, but I tried lol. This is for @nellblazer​‘s 80′s writing challenge...! 

Warnings: Language, slight smut, violence and blood, character death 

Word Count: 3,879

Dean was seated in his car, belting out a song as he tapped the steering wheel, rhythmically. He was watching (Y/N) walk back and forth, grabbing suitcases and tons and tons of food. She frowned at him, sticking out her tongue before going back into Bobby’s house to retrieve her phone. She walked past the old man, giving him a slight nod of her head as he did the same in response. She grabbed two beer bottles from the fridge, ignoring the clinking that came from them scraping against each other and was about to get her phone from the table until Sam swiped it from her grasp. 

“Need this?” He asked, scrunching up his face as he held it against the light. She playfully shoved his arm, grabbing it from him. A small laugh escaped from his lips, as he hugged her. 

“Gee, Sam. It’s only a small vacation.” Her voice came out muffled, as Sam gave her a tight squeeze. He pulled back, sighing.

“Yeah, I know, just gonna miss my best bud, that’s all.” He pouted, placing his hands over his heart. She giggled, rolling her eyes. 

“Alright, you ready?” Dean appeared into the room, leaning against the doorframe. (Y/N) nodded, following her boyfriend as they both walked towards his car. They seated themselves in the front, as she kicked her feet up onto the dashboard, relaxing herself almost instantly. Sam and Bobby stood beside the impala, hoping their little break would turn out good. They really needed it.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam called out, bending down a bit to get a clear view of his older brother.

“What?” 

“Try not to have too much sex with her.” Sam joked, cracking half a smile. (Y/N) snorted, almost choking on her beer as Dean scoffed,

“Try and stop me,” He chided, starting the car. The familiar roar of the engine coming to life brought a smile onto his face. He said his goodbyes, before racing down onto the road and to wherever their hotel was. (Y/N) was busy sorting out the maps, one hand clutching the papers and another had a firm hold on her beer. Dean watched her from the corner of his eye, occasionally glancing back to the road. 

“This hotel is pretty far off, like in the middle of nowhere far off...” (Y/N) exclaimed, pulling the map closer to her face. She squinted, reading the street names and turns. Dean chuckled, setting the map down onto her lap. She sighed, looking around the car when she noticed a small card. She picked it up, and after reading it, she scowled.

“You applied for a caretaker job? Dean, I know we needed some money but really? This is supposed to be our vacation!” She whined, turning to Dean. He exhaled loudly, turning on the radio for some music. 

“Dean,” She called out, sternly. In response, he turned the volume louder, and began singing with it, tuning her out. She grumbled, tossing the card onto the backseat. 

After about 2 hours, they had taken a small break. Dean had run off to use the bathroom, which left (Y/N) in the passenger seat, watching the seconds pass on her watch. She got bored quite quickly which resulted in her yanking out her phone from her purse, and dialing Sam.

“What’s up?” The younger Winchester’s voice buzzed with excitement.

“Nothing much, except I found out that Dean applied for a caretaker job at the hotel we’re gonna stay in.” She replied, huffing in annoyance. She could practically hear Sam becoming confused.

“He did what now?” He asked, and she cleared her throat, starting to explain it all until she noticed Dean coming back.

“I’ll call you later.” She said, abruptly. She hung up, stashing the phone back into her purse and smiled at Dean as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced at her, before revving up the car once again. Breathing a sigh of relief, she fixed her gaze out the window, admiring the scenery as the car was back on the road. Her eyes started to droop, and before she knew it, she was fast asleep. 

She was awoken by a loud honk from the car, and she glared at Dean, fumbling out. He laughed, hands filled with suitcases. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” He said, in a sing-song tone. She whined, grabbing the baskets of food from the trunk. She turned to the hotel and her heart sunk. Sure, she wasn’t expecting a 5 star one, but she sure as hell wasn’t expecting this place. This was like, the epitome of where ghosts live. She stared at Dean, shocked by his nature.

“What the hell, Dean?” She cried out, dropping the baskets. 

“What do you mean?” He questioned, irritated by the fact that she just dropped the food onto the ground.

“You chose this for our vacation? For all we know, there’s probably ghosts in there. This was for us to relax, not hunt again!”

“We’re not going to hunt these things, because there’s nothing in there, (Y/N).”

“Dean, honestly, what the hell were you thinking?!?”

“Enough!” Dean roared, silencing her up. He had never used that tone on her, and she flinched. They both stood there for a couple more seconds, before (Y/N) snatched her suitcase from him and stormed inside. The place was practically deserted, nobody was here. The lobby was dark and gloomy, only a small lamp at the front desk that illuminated through the entire place. She held down some of her anger and ascended the stairs. The creaking didn’t help her frustration and she paused for a slight second before taking another step up. She walked up to their room’s door, kicking it open and plopped onto the bed. It was rock hard, and the pillows looked like people had thrown up over them countless of times. She whined, wanting nothing more than to go back to Bobby’s house. 

“I should’ve planned the trip,” She scoffed. A couple minutes later, Dean entered the room, dropping down the food and other suitcases. He didn’t even look at her when he said

“Alright, let’s go meet the hotel manager.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, sitting still. Was there even a hotel manager in this place? She thought to herself, still disgusted by her surroundings. Dean glared at her, signaling her to stand up. She glared right back, not wanting to lose this battle. The tension in the air was thick, and no it wasn’t the usual sex-crazed-but-too-stubborn-to-do-anything type, but more of it was the need to scream and punch at each other. Dean growled, signaling her to stand up once again. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She stated, bitterly. Dean nodded, looking around for a while, before forcefully grabbing her arm.

“Dean, what the-”

“Shut it!” He hissed, dragging her downstairs into the lobby. She was clawing him at this point, trying to get him off her. He didn’t even bother to listen to her pleas and cries. All of a sudden, he let go, sending her falling to the ground with thump! She winced as she got up, rubbing her sore arm as she maintained a steady scowl at Dean. The older Winchester had never treated any woman like this, she was sure of it. What ever happened to the, “I respect woman,” tune that he marched to every day? She scowled at him and then her eyes fell on a wiry, old man. If she thought this place couldn’t get any creepier, she was surely wrong. The man stared at her, no words were uttered but the eyes spoke so much in an instant. He was a perverted fuck and she was just a second close to shooting him, but Dean broke the silence by clearing his throat. 

“Thanks for appointing me, I’m sure this place will be in good hands.” (Y/N) nearly gagged, forcing herself to look around and search for anything that would make this place worth-while. It was already set in her mind that she was going to call Sam and Bobby, they’ll know what to do. 

During the night, Dean had gotten new pillowcases and comforters. They were surprisingly clean, considering the state that the rest of the hotel was in. However, she didn’t feel like sleeping and took this time to call her ‘best buddy.’ 

“Hey Sam,” She whispered, looking back at Dean to make sure he was still sleeping. He stirred in his sleep, getting himself comfortable.

“What’s wrong? What else stupid choices did Dean make?” Sam snarled from the other side of phone. (Y/N) sighed in response,

“Well, he took me to the most creepiest hotel ever. With an equally creepy hotel manager.” 

“Is Dean asleep?”

“You bet he is, the fucker’s sleeping peacefully as if nothing’s wrong.” She growled, and suddenly Dean opened his eyes. He moaned out her name, asking her what was going on.

“It’s just a friend, Dean. Go back to sleep.” She said, softly. His head fell back onto the pillow, retreating back to slumber. (Y/N) took a breath of relief, before turning back to the corner of the room,

“Tell Bobby what’s happening. Goodnight, Sam.”

“Yeah, goodnight, (Y/N).” She hung up, staring out of the window. The moon was bright, and honestly it was the only clean thing she could think about. She had no idea how Dean was sleeping in here, and now she wanted answers. She wanted to know what was wrong with him, but for now, she had to at least try and go to sleep. She shifted onto the bed, dragging the covers over her. She silently hoped there wasn’t going to be any rats or bugs waiting for her when she opened her eyes again. Dean’s soft snores was the only thing to comfort her, and she wrapped her arm around him, inhaling his familiar scent. She dozed off, waiting for tomorrow.

(Y/N) woke up with a groan. The blinding light forced her eyes open and the first thing she noticed was the empty space next to her. She frowned, rubbing her eyes a bit before lazily getting up.

“Dean!” She called out. No answer. She opened their room’s door and called out his name once again, and there was still no answer. She was freaking out, she didn’t want to be left alone in this hotel, surely not in this room. 

Meanwhile, Dean was in their bathroom but he didn’t respond. He heard her cries for him, but he didn’t open the door. He didn’t appear before her with his signature smirk, instead he was busy trying to understand what was happening to him. He had undressed himself, prepping himself to take a nice, long bath until he noticed his face in the mirror. His eyes had faltered for a moment and he swore he had black eyes. He was reverting back into something he didn’t want. He had kept this secret from everyone for so long, and if anyone found out he would die. No, he had to keep quiet, not utter any sounds. He debated whether or not he should go to (Y/N), and he stood still, his feet planted onto the hard tiles that were fading into a color of something close to light brown. 

“Dean!” She called out, and he sighed opening the bathroom door to reveal himself in nothing but a simple towel, that was tightly wrapped around his waist. She inhaled sharply, looking at him before her face settled into an angry expression.

“I called your name like a thousand times and you were in the bathroom the entire fucking time?” She screeched, and before she could utter another word, Dean yanked her into the bathroom, pushing her into the bathtub. Usually by this time, they would have been making out, but she wasn’t having it. The water was trickling down her, completely drenching her. Her clothes became transparent and Dean licked his lips, taking in her entire form. She frowned, failing to push him away from her. He had her up against the shower wall, lips crashing. She melted, forgiving him instantly. She smiled into the kiss, arms wrapping against him. When all clothes were gone, and hands were roaming her body as a pretty little mouth was kissing her neck, she opened her eyes.

Her eyes had caught something she never thought she would see, and she bit her lip feeling the water run down her back. Dean’s eyes weren’t the perfect green she usually would see, but instead they were black. She shut her eyes hard, and slowly opened them again and it was like nothing ever happened. It was still Dean, and those eyes were back to normal. She couldn’t shake the feeling off her and she frowned as her lover seemed to search her face to find what was bothering her,

“Is something wrong?” He asked, hands sliding down to her core. She was about to answer him until he slipped a finger in, causing her to choke out his name. She rested her head at the crook of his neck, and as he began pumping into her, she kept quiet on what she had seen, maybe she could bring it up later.

When they both were exhausted due to the multiple orgasms, they crashed onto the bed, snuggling with each other. (Y/N) had tried hard not to moan so loudly (possibly due to the creepy hotel manager) but Dean’s skillful hands, mouth and that fucking cock was too much to handle. She wanted to bring up what she saw, however there was a growing fear on how he might react to her. (Y/N) ultimately made up her mind to keep quiet, it was probably just an hallucination or something, Dean couldn’t be a demon... or could he?

The next few days felt off, not just because Dean kept straying further and further, but the atmosphere itself didn’t feel right. (Y/N) had her eyes on Dean the entire time, watching his movement and behavior and just as she suspected, they were all off. During the times they’d eat together, he’d be real quiet, staring blankly at the plate or some wall that was next to him. When they were cuddled up watching the TV together, he would stare at it with a blank face, and when it was something related to gore, he would get all excited and comment about how the killer should’ve used a different technique to murder the victim,

“It’d be quicker and efficient.” He stated and her blood ran cold in response. 

One particular night, (Y/N) had gone off to sleep early, wanting to get some more sleep than usual. She wrapped herself up with blankets and dozed off quite quickly, until a few minutes later she woke up, instantly. She heard scraping noises coming near her, and she got up, turning on the lamp, only to find Dean sitting on a chair, sharpening his knives.

“Uh, what the- I mean, what are you doing?” She asked, trying to sound a bit polite so Dean wouldn’t stab her with them.

“Sharpening my knives,” He replied, blandly. There was some kind of glimmer in his eyes as he stared down at the shiny metal. She sat there on her bed, choosing her next words carefully.

“Hey, Dean?” She called out, and the hunter raised an eyebrow in response, his eyes still glued to the knives as he continued sharpening them.

“I think we should pack up and go home.” The words fell out of her mouth sooner than she thought it would and Dean stopped every movement, turning his head slowly to face her. She gulped, grabbing a pillow and using it as shield.

“Why’d you say that?” He asked, his voice calm but there was something hidden in it that terrified her more than anything else. Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing on how to reply to that properly.

“You’ve... You’ve been acting off.” She whispered, eyes falling from Dean onto the bedsheets in front of her. He squinted his eyes, slowly getting up from his seat.

“I’m not off.”

“I never said you were, I said you were acting off...” 

Silence. The room was just silent. Dean’s eyes bore into her soul and for the first time, she felt scared. She had hunted a dozen monsters and creatures but nothing could prepare her for this... this person in front of her. Dean scoffed and walked out the room, slamming the door shut. She jumped a bit, before sinking deep into the covers. She reached out for her gun, her entire body shaking as she did so. Why was she so scared all of a sudden, if he was a demon, she’d surely know how to deal with him. She was hunter, but... but there was something else to this and she wanted- no needed to find out what it was.

The next morning, (Y/N) creeped downstairs. She looked around, making sure no one would see her. Her heart felt like it was about to explode, her breathing becoming labored and her hand sweating profusely as she gripped onto her gun for her dear life. She slipped into a room, closing the door carefully before turning around to face a small desk in the middle of the room. The curtains were drawn, revealing a dark cemetery through the windows,

“How perfect,” She mumbled, walking up to the wooden bureau. Papers were scattered everywhere, the red ink blaring at her. Before she could make out the words, she noticed a device at the corner of the table. It was her phone and she gasped quietly, hands flying to grab it. She scrolled through it, realizing Sam had called her hundreds of times and she immediately blamed Dean. 

Alright this is enough for me, she thought to herself, heading to the exit but she stopped. The papers were still there, and though it had no possibility of moving or talking, it grasped onto her. It beckoned for her to come closer and read it, despite knowing that Dean would probably be here in any second. She looked back at it and for once she had to choose,

Risk everything and read that paper or get yelled at by Dean and possibly... get killed?

Her mind was racing, her forehead throbbing from all the tension and suspense and she simply said, “Fuck it,” and went to see what the red ink had to tell her. She pocketed her gun, and held the papers close and her eyes widened as she realized that it wasn't red ink, it was blood.

“She can’t know you’re a -” She read through, but that was it. The last word was erased or smudged and though Dean must've written this multiple times, each time the end was gone. It wasn’t until she grabbed the last piece of paper (that seemed to be unfinished) did she really become surprised.

That’s what the last word was.... it was demon.

Suddenly, she heard voices speaking outside and she looked out the window to find Dean and someone else talking to each other. (Y/N) crouched down, ultimately crawling out of the room and shutting the door close, praying that Dean would never know about the situation. Racing upstairs, she burst into the bedroom and locked it shut, and then crashed onto the bed. 

It was late at night, the wind outside had died down and Dean had finally come back into the hotel. After receiving tips on how to be less obvious of his secret, he walked into his little room near the lobby. The minute he walked in, he knew. He just knew (Y/N) had came here. He stared at the desk, running up to it and then he groaned, she figured it out. She knew all about it. The phone was gone, and the papers were all messed up. 

“The little bitch,” He cursed, running out the door. “(Y/N)!” At first, Dean was just willing to talk to her and explain about himself, but each step he took felt a step down the wrong path. He was calling her, calling her blood. Every second that passed made him only crazier and by the end of it all, he wanted to see her blood run down his hands.

She could hear him and she felt her gut dropping down at least 3 feet. He was screaming out her name and the other voice on the phone didn’t calm her down at all.

“(Y/N) what’s happening?” Sam asked, his voice bringing the smallest amount of comfort. She was crying at this point, stifling her shaky breaths and tears as she ripped the door open and raced the opposite way and through a secret entrance she found when she began walking around the hotel. Her gun was still with her and she silenced Sam slightly by lowering the volume on her phone,

“Sam,” She croaked out, her voice barely above a whisper. On the other side of the phone, Sam was panicking and he grabbed Bobby’s car keys, desperate to go retrieve his friend safely.

“Stay with me, (Y/N).” He stated, racing past a confused Bobby and into his car.

“Whoa, Sam!” The old man cried out, trying to grab the younger Winchester’s attention, but it was too late. Sam was already on the road, the car driving at a high speed.

Meanwhile back at the hotel, (Y/N) was in a locked room, sitting fairly close to the window. If Dean came breaking through the door, she had a quick option to leap through the panels and run for her life. This wasn’t what she planned the vacation to be and she kept praying to have Sam come bursting through the door instead and save her from the monster Dean had become. The door to the room jiggled, as if someone on the other side was furiously trying to open the door and come in. Just from the footsteps, she knew who it was and she braced for impact.

Sam had reached the hotel in a matter of minutes, outracing a couple police officers as he did so, because nothing mattered more to him than having his friend being saved from Dean. Dean was a ruthless guy when he wasn’t himself, and by no means would he want her harmed. He prayed to God, praying that nothing happened to (Y/N), that this was all gonna be good and he could go fix his brother before he did something he would regret later.

“(Y/N)!” He called out through the phone, walking up to the hotel and realizing that she really meant it when she said the hotel was creepy. “Come on, please, answer me!”

He took another step noticing that a familiar figure was pulling the door open. Sam halted in his tracks, squinting his eyes to make out who it was. They were all filled with blood stains, one hand gripping an equally bloody knife. The other was holding a phone near their ear, and they beamed. Sam bit back a cry, holding the urge to charge at his brother. Dean’s black eyes bore into his soul, the signature smirk still present as he opened his mouth to greet his little brother,

“Hey, Sammy.”

[nekoannie-chan]

Deadly nightmares part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader, past Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 1539 words.

Summary: You daren’t fall asleep because if you dream, you know the killer will get you.

Warnings: Angst, domestic abuse, mention of the death of character, this series maybe could be dark.

A/N: This is my entry to the @nellblazer’s the 80’s Challenge with the movie theme:

“Nightmare on Elm Street”.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @navybrat817 @sinceimetyou @saiyanprincessswanie @pandaxnienke

You walked down the halls, you knew the place... you hated that place, in fact, not to mention that it seemed that the lights in the hallways didn't work well, how did you come to the building where you and Brock lived a long time ago?  

You kept walking, as you headed to the exit, but somehow you ended up in front of the apartment door.  

You felt like your mouth was dry, why were you in that place? 

You looked hesitantly at the knob, should you open and come in? 

No, you have sworn you had never back there again, you walked away for five minutes, even though you ended up in front of the apartment again.  

It seemed like it was the only way out of the building going into that apartment, you went through with saliva, and you felt goosebumps.

You put your hand on the knob and opened the door slowly, practically holding your breath. It looked like the apartment was inhabited or maybe as someone had a few hours of someone going out there, everything was like the last time you were there, and it was scary.  

You started walking down the aisle trying to make no noise, you had to get to the emergency exit to get out of the building... or so you thought. You didn't know if Brock was there, although he wasn't supposed to be... not after what had happened.  

"Did you miss me?” a voice asked behind you.  

Slowly you turned around, it wasn't possible... Brock approached you slowly as he drew his gun.

"Did you think you could live without me? Fucking bitch, I warned you, you're nothing, you need me to do anything, and you’re nothing but useless crap...

 You opened your eyes at the time, breathed quickly, again another nightmare where Brock appeared, while they were in a relationship... it was the worst moment of your life.  

You took your robe, covered yourself and left the room for the kitchen, you kept shaking, maybe your worst nightmare was that your ex-boyfriend was still alive, even though Steve had made sure he was already dead, Steve saw Brock’s corpse when they were looking for the victims of the Triskelion collapsing; so there was no way he would torment you again. 

In the kitchen you started opening the refrigerator and cupboard, you didn't know what to serve or cook to try to calm down while you self-convinced that it was all a dream.  

"Doll?” Steve replied, sleepy, entering the kitchen.  

You were startled when you heard your boyfriend's voice, you managed to contain the scream that went up to your throat. 

"S-Steve.”  

"Is something wrong?” He questioned.  

You shook your head.  

"Nightmares again?”  

There was no answer.  

"Come on Y/N, you know you can trust me, tell me anything, I'll always believe you," he reminded you slowly approaching you.  

You always had a different reaction to those nightmares, but they seemed so real like Brock sought to torment you again. Even though Steve always assured you that they were just lousy dreams that your mind was playing with you he wasn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore.    

"Everything's fine," you lied while smiling.  

Steve stared at you, knew you were lying, he didn't want to worry you, but every time you woke up crying terrified thinking Brock was there.  

"Y/N, I know you're lying, something happens...”

“He... he's dead, isn't he?” Your voice trembled.

"Yes doll, I assure you, he will never going to hurt you again," Steve replied and hugging you. 

From that night on, you were looking for some way to entertain yourself to avoid sleep because every time you did, you dreamed of Brock that terrified you, those dreams were too disturbing, and it was like living that hell with him again.  

The mission had been exhausting, although after bathing, you felt relaxed and tired because you hadn't slept for several days, you turned on the TV, but that didn't stop you from falling asleep.

 You were sitting on the swing, while the other three swings swayed without anyone else there, you had the dress that Brock liked so much if you wore, you didn't know where you were, you got up and started walking.  

The street was empty, it was starting to darken, the lighting was minimal, and the atmosphere felt heavy, it was like you were having a hard time breathing, the temperature seemed to drop.  

You stopped when you saw a silhouette in front of you, it was familiar, it started to come to you, when it got to where there was light, you saw his face smiling, you felt like a shiver walking your body, you started to retreat instinctively, you needed to walk away, why was he there?   

“B-Brock... Stay away...  

He kept approaching without removing the smile from his face as you kept backing away.  

"Are you afraid of me? This isn't that jerk to intrude on, it's just you and me, babygirl.”

As he had teleported, he was now in front of you taking your arm.  

"Come on babygirl, you know you've been very bad and you need a lesson," he said, pulled you a Little. 

You pushed yourself, you wanted to call Steve, but no sound came out of your mouth, every attempt it looked like Brock was tightening the grip. 

"I told you, you were never going to get rid of me, you and I will always be together," he continued as he brought you closer to his chest.  

You tried to push him to beat him, your hand got tangled in the plate that he used to bring hanging around his neck, maybe you could hang him with it and be able to escape, with the other hand you started pushing without releasing the dog tag, he started lowering his hand to take his knife...

 You woke up in bed, your breath was agitated, you saw your hand, you had the badge there, and you put your gaze on your arm, the mark that someone had held you was on your skin. You quickly beat the dog tag away from you as if it had burned you, you got up, you went to the bathroom and got your face wet, it wasn't possible.  

Brock was dead... but he was also alive, you had the proof in your hands, you had no idea how but Brock had managed to get back to life, he was in the only place where neither Steve nor your friends could protect you; in your dreams. If you'd just been a simple nightmare, you'd know he couldn't hurt you, but that way he could even kill you, you weren't sure if that was going to affect "reality" or if it would wipe out your soul or just stop dreaming.  

How would you explain to Steve now? How could you fix this? The only solution you could think of was that you didn't sleep, or maybe if you slept for short periods it wasn't going to show up or that's what you thought.

 You were in the corridor of the Organization talking to Steve about the documents they required for the mission when Brock saw you, that infuriated him, he immediately approached you.  

“Y/N!”   

You immediately strained when you heard your name, especially because of the tone he had used.  

"Brock, what's going on?” You asked trying to sound calm.  

"It's the same thing I want to know.”  

"Rumlow, we were just talking about work," Steve replied, feeling the atmosphere so tense. 

You looked down, you knew it meant that look on your boyfriend, it was better that you didn't say anything that would him off.  

"Y/N, is that true?”   

"Yes, about next week's mission," you responded almost in a whisper.  

"We have to go to the training, come on," Brock grabbed your arm and carried you practically dragging. 

"B-Brock, seriously, I promise we're just talking about the mission...” 

"We'll talk about it in the house," he said.  

You nodded slowly, you knew what that meant, he didn't believe you, you still had the mark last time, and it looked like it wasn't going to go away, you didn't want to do anything to make him angrier or things would be worse.  

After closing the door of the house where they lived, he grabbed you by the neck.  

"I saw you, you were flirting with Rogers.”  

"No, I wasn't... we were just talking about the mission,' you groaned.  

"You need a lesson," Brock said as he pulled out his knife.

 You shook your head to dispel the memory, though it was difficult, with that knife he had marked his initials on your hip on the left side.  

You started looking in the cupboard, you knew coffee wouldn't be enough, you also took some books, and you needed anything that kept you awake.  

Every time you turned around to see, you weren't sure if you were now in a hallucination, a vivid dream or Brock was there, waiting for you to be distracted and attacked, even you would doubt if you were awake, however, you were going to start looking for a way to defend yourself without others knowing what was happening. 

[nekoannie-chan]

Deadly nightmares/Pesadillas mortales Masterlist

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Steve Rogers masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader masterlist.

Steve Rogers X Reader series masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

(𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇/𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈́𝗇 𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾́𝗌)

Summary: You daren’t fall asleep because if you dream, you know the killer will get you.

Part I

Part II

[nekoannie-chan]

Pesadillas mortales parte I

Pareja: Steve Rogers X Lectora, anterior Brock Rumlow X Lectora.      

Palabras: 1430 palabras.

Sinopsis: No te atrevas a dormirte porque si sueñas, sabes que el asesino te atrapará

Advertencias: Angst, violencia en la relación, mención de la muerte de un personaje.

N/A: Esta es mi entrada para Nellblazer’s the 80’s Challenge con la película:

“Pesadilla en la calle del infierno”

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien. DISCLAIMER:Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Tag: @sinceimetyou

Parte II

 Caminaste por los pasillos, conocías el lugar…odiabas ese lugar de hecho, sin contar que parecía que las luces de los pasillos no funcionaban bien, ¿cómo habías llegado al edificio donde hace muchísimo tiempo vivían Brock y tú?

Seguiste caminando, según te dirigías a la salida, pero de alguna manera terminaste enfrente de la puerta del departamento.

Sentiste como si tu boca estuviera seca, ¿por qué estabas en ese lugar?

Miraste dubitativa la perilla, ¿deberías abrir y entrar?

No, habías jurado nunca más volver ahí, te alejaste y volviste a caminar durante cinco minutos, aunque volviste a terminar frente al departamento.

Parecía que era la única forma de salir del edificio entrando a ese departamento, pasaste con trabajos saliva, sentiste como se erizaba tu piel.

Pusiste tu mano en la perilla y abriste la puerta lentamente, prácticamente conteniendo la respiración. Lucía como si el departamento estuviera habitado o quizás como si tuvieran unas horas de que alguien hubiese salido ahí, todo estaba como la última vez que estuviste ahí, era aterrador.

Comenzaste a caminar por el pasillo tratando de no hacer ruido, tenías que llegar hasta la salida de emergencia para salir del edificio…o eso es lo que creías. No sabías si Brock estaba ahí, aunque se suponía que no debería de estar…no después de lo que había pasado.

— ¿Me extrañaste? —preguntó una voz atrás de ti.

Lentamente te volteaste, no era posible…

Brock se acercó hacia ti lentamente mientras desenfundaba su pistola.

— ¿Realmente creíste que podías vivir sin mí? Maldita perra infeliz, te lo advertí, no eres nada, me necesitas para hacer cualquier cosa, no eres más que una basura inútil…

 Abriste los ojos en ese momento, respirabas con rapidez, de nuevo otra pesadilla donde Brock aparecía, mientras estuvieron en una relación…fue el peor momento de tu vida.

Tomaste tu bata, te cubriste y saliste de la habitación hacia la cocina, no dejabas de temblar, quizás tu peor pesadilla era que tu ex novio siguiera vivo, aunque Steve te había aseguro que ya estaba muerto, él mismo había visto su cadáver cuando estaban viendo a las víctimas del percance del Triskelion; así que no había forma de que él volviera a atormentarte.

 En la cocina empezaste a abrir el refrigerador y la alacena, no sabías que servirte o cocinar para tratar de calmarte mientras te auto convencías que todo era un sueño.

— ¿Muñeca? —preguntó Steve adormilado entrando a la cocina.

Te sobresaltaste al escuchar la voz de tu novio, lograste contener el grito que subía por tu garganta.

—S-Steve.

— ¿Pasa algo? —cuestionó.

Negaste con la cabeza.

— ¿Pesadillas de nuevo?

No hubo respuesta.

—Vamos T/N, sabes que puedes confiar en mí, contarme lo que sea, yo siempre te creeré —te recordó acercándose lentamente hacia ti.

Siempre tenías una reacción diferente con esas pesadillas, pero parecían tan reales, como si de verdad Brock buscara atormentarte de nuevo. A pesar de que Steve siempre te aseguraba que no eran más que pésimos sueños, que tu mente estaba jugando contigo, él no iba a permitir que nadie te hiciera daño nunca más.  

—Todo está bien —mentiste a la vez que sonreías.

Steve te miró fijamente, sabía que mentías, él no quería preocuparte, pero cada vez que te despertabas llorando aterrada creyendo que Brock estaba ahí.

—T/N, sé que mientes, algo pasa…

—Él…él está muerto, ¿verdad? —tu voz tembló.

—Si amor, te lo aseguro, nunca más va a volver a hacerte daño —respondió Steve abrazándote.

A partir de esa noche buscabas alguna manera de entretenerte para evitar dormir porque cada vez que lo hacías, soñabas con Brock, eso te aterraba, esos sueños eran demasiado perturbadores, era como volver a vivir ese infierno con él.

La misión había sido agotadora, aunque después de bañarte, te sentías relajada y cansada por no haber dormido durante varios días, prendiste la televisión, pero eso no evitó que terminaras durmiéndote.

 Estabas sentada en el columpio, mientras que los otros tres columpios se balanceaban sin que hubiera alguien más ahí, tenías puesto el vestido que tanto le gustaba a Brock que usaras, no sabías en donde estabas, te levantaste y comenzaste a caminar.

La calle estaba vacía, comenzaba a oscurecer, la iluminación era mínima, el ambiente se sentía pesado, era como si te costara trabajo respirar, la temperatura parecía que descendía.

Te detuviste cuando viste una silueta frente a ti, te resultaba familiar, comenzó a acercarse a ti, cuando llegó a donde había luz, viste su rostro sonriendo, sentiste como un escalofrío recorría tu cuerpo, comenzaste a retroceder instintivamente, necesitabas alejarte, ¿por qué estaba ahí?

—B-Brock…aléjate…

Él continuó acercándose sin quitar la sonrisa de su rostro mientras tú seguías retrocediendo.

— ¿Acaso me tienes miedo? Aquí no está ese imbécil para entrometerse, sólo somos tú y yo cariño.

Como si se hubiera teletransportado, él ahora estaba frente a ti tomando tu brazo.

—Vamos cariño, sabes que te has portado muy mal y necesitas una lección —dijo jalándote un poco,

Forcejeaste para soltarte, querías llamar a Steve, pero ningún sonido salía de tu boca, a cada intento parecía que Brock apretaba el agarre.

—Te dije que nunca te ibas a librar de mí, tú y yo siempre estaremos juntos —continuó mientras te acercaba a su pecho.

Intentaste empujarlo para aventarlo, tu mano se enredó en la placa que él solía traer colgada en el cuello, quizás lo podías ahorcar con ella y poder escapar, con la otra mano comenzaste a empujar sin soltar la placa, él comenzó a bajar la mano para tomar su cuchillo...

 Despertaste en la cama, tu respiración era agitada, viste tu mano, tenías ahí la placa, posaste tu mirada en tu brazo, la marca de que alguien te había sujetado estaba en tu piel. Rápidamente aventaste lejos de ti la placa como si te hubiese quemado, te levantaste, fuiste al baño y te mojaste la cara, no era posible.

Brock estaba muerto…pero también estaba vivo, tuviste la prueba en tus manos, no tenías ni la menor idea de cómo pero Brock había logrado regresar a la vida, estaba en el único lugar donde ni Steve ni tus amigos te podían proteger; en tus sueños. Si tan sólo hubieses sido una simple pesadilla sabrías que no podría hacerte daño, pero de esa manera él podría inclusive matarte, no estabas segura si eso iba a afectar en la “realidad” o si acabaría con tu alma o simplemente dejarías de soñar.

¿Cómo le explicarías ahora a Steve? ¿Cómo ibas a solucionar esto? La única solución que se te ocurría era que no durmieras o quizás si dormías por períodos cortos no iba a aparecer o eso era lo que creías.

 Estabas en el pasillo de la Organización hablando con Steve acerca de los documentos que requerían para la misión cuando Brock los vio, eso lo enfureció, de inmediato se acercó a ustedes.

— ¡T/N!

De inmediato te tensaste al escuchar tu nombre, especialmente por el tono que él había usado.

—Brock, ¿qué pasa? —preguntaste tratando de sonar tranquila.

—Es lo mismo que quiero saber.

—Rumlow, sólo hablábamos de trabajo —respondió Steve al sentir el ambiente tan tenso.

Bajaste la vista sabías que significaba esa mirada en tu novio, era mejor que no dijeras nada que lo hiciera enojar.

—T/N, ¿eso es verdad?

—Sí, de la misión de la próxima semana —respondiste casi en un susurro.

—Tenemos entrenamiento, vamos —Brock te tomó del brazo y te llevó prácticamente arrastrando.

—B-Brock, en serio, te lo prometo sólo hablamos de la misión…

—En la casa lo arreglaremos —él sentenció.

Asentiste lentamente, sabías lo que eso significaba, no te había creído, aún tenías la marca de la última vez, parecía que no iba a desaparecer, no querías hacer nada para que él se enojara más o las cosas serían peor.

Después de cerrar la puerta de la casa donde vivían te tomó del cuello.

—Te vi, estabas coqueteando con Rogers.

—No, yo no estaba…sólo hablábamos de la misión —gimoteaste.

—Necesitas una lección —dijo Brock mientras sacaba su cuchillo.

 Sacudiste tu cabeza para disipar el recuerdo, aunque era difícil, con ese cuchillo él había marcado sus iniciales en tu cadera del lado izquierdo.

Empezaste a buscar en la alacena, sabías que el café no sería suficiente, también tomaste algunos libros, necesitabas cualquier cosa que te mantuviera despierta.

A cada rato volteabas a ver a tu alrededor, no estabas segura si ahora te encontrabas una alucinación, un sueño vívido o realmente Brock estaba ahí, esperando a que estuvieras distraída y atacarte, inclusive llegabas a dudar si te encontrabas despierta, como fuera ibas a comenzar a buscar la manera de defenderte sin que los demás supieran lo que estaba ocurriendo.