#samantha screeches - but not in the good way

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

HERE IT IS!!! I had to fight w/ technology fr

ummmm enjoy! This took like two days to make and a long frickin time to actually upload lol excuse my crappy editing

[simp-ly-writes]

Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.5)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Will John make it out- will your team arrive in time for the mission? And with some unexpected guests to greet you in it all- they all bring forward memories you did best to hide away.

Warnings:4000~ words, light swearing, blood, highly suggestive scenes and trauma. A/N: are we having a good week? Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

Forced into the backseat of a black car you pound back on the door- begging for it to release you yet the sound of tires screeching against the pavement has your head filing back into the seat behind you as you slip to the other side without your seatbelt. You tug the band over your shoulder, snapping it at your waist as you feel the coldness of the glass against your face- watching as the city whips past.

Your heart drops for a second, realizing that you were leaving your car at the agency. A groan escapes you- just another reason to hate the people around you. Samantha was driving you to the airstrip as you looked at her with betrayal. Shaking your head and focusing in on a folder set with more information about your targets set in the seat in front of you. Reaching towards the folder, you slip through the various images, documents, and mission logs. Agent Beetle you had sent ahead of your arrival had already made great progress- tracking down members related to the kidnappers and a series of locations where the princess might be housed currently.

The car turns hastily as you curse out- wishing that you were in your own car about to fly your own plane yet management had to say otherwise after your inability to follow company guidelines… fuckers, is all you could think as yet another turn was taken. Samantha was driving like her ass was on fire and you couldn’t help but take down the divider to check and make sure. Gripping the wall as she sped down the now gravel road, she had a vice grip on the steering wheel, lights on bright as tree branches threatened the paint job. 

She takes a quick glance at you through the rear view mirror, shaking her head and eyes filled with tears yet never speaking a word as the car suddenly stops- a private jet awaiting your control as the door opens with an automatic release and you are being thrown out- the keys hitting your head leaving a dull ache. Stumbling up from the ground while dusting off your suit, she boards your luggage onto the plane before giving you a mocking salute. The dirt kisses your face as the tires grind into the earth- the car joining the setting sun in the distance.

Weighing the keys in your hand and looking around- you shrug and roll your shoulders before making your way inside. Much to your surprise, Ghost is already waiting for you inside. His long legs rest in the aisle as he leans back in the chair, absent-midedly staring up at the star-studded ceiling without acknowledging your appearance but based upon the twitch of his boot. He knew you were here. 

Giving him a playful wave hello, he nods his head once in acknowledgement before going through his own mission debrief resting on the chair beside him. The black-metal briefcase dazzling in the setting sun's rays. Ducking into the operations space, you ready yourself in the pilot's seat, flicking on the various lights as you warm up the engine. The plane roars to life as you set your headset on- testing communications to receive a very giggly Samantha in reply- trying to lighten the evening mood. 

You hear footsteps coming up the aisle as you turn around- expecting to see a skull-face on your own. Soaps and Gaz’s features meet your own with mutual surprise before they tackle you into a hug. Not thinking for a moment you return the gesture before the wheels turn lightly from underneath you all. Cursing out you stomp back on the brakes and turn back with a guilty smile as they laugh in reaction before settling themselves in for the flight. 

Your fingers tapped against the dash, there was only so much daylight left and you had to get wheels up in 10. Starting to pick at your nail polish once more- a frantic set of boots come to a fault by your side. You only find a back as you turn to face them as they move to operate the seat beside you. Confusion coats your features- unknowing of who lied on their report to be qualified in operating a plane. John smiles at you yet his eyes speak of unknown horrors that you acknowledge with a small sob escaping from your lips. 

A soft smile falls upon your own features, eyes welling over as you extend a hand, silently asking if he was alright. Taking your hand in his own- he offers a light squeeze before dropping it and settling into his own headset. Samantha cheers in both of your ears yet you both play no mind to her excitement. Price moves the microphone closer to his mouth, “Load of shit those trials were- the fuck- trauma they try and instil in you lot.” You can only chuckle out to his crude words breaking your cries as John takes control of the flying gear and starts the take off procedure as you dab off your eyes from the handkerchief of your suit. 

“Hello, this is your Captain Daniels and Price speaking, he is readying ourselves for take off. If all passengers could please strap themselves in and pour a drink- we have seven scheduled hours in the air for tonight.” You can distantly here Soap groan out as Gaz ever-so kindly asks him to, “Shut the fuck up.” Shaking your head at this interaction, Price cocks his head over to you- his own smile growing and the prior events of the day being set to the back of the stove. 

--

Clouds paint your peripheral vision as you take control of the flight. Price has fallen asleep beside you as you drift through the sky. Samantha had long fallen asleep at her desk as your mind wandered, wondering where Whitby had been sent, how Charlotte and Handler Jacobs wedding plans were going- she really did try and hide that engagement ring from a spy out of all people. Jason was probably messing around town for the night, celebrating being the only one in the organization who actually worked the nine to five as your external trainees were scheduled for space clearing the next morning. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Simon asks, taking the small seat behind you as he shook Price awake and overtook his seat, taking control of the plane as you rubbed your wrists- sore from the handling. “What are you doing up?” You reply with another question as he slowly turns his head to you. “Couldn’t sleep. I ask again, what's going on?” He pressures, eyes staring through the open airspace ahead of you both. 

“Work like any other time,” you reply with a yawn, “S’all I do.” “Well that's shit,” he responds in a blank tone that has you sitting upright. “Not really, I mean, it's a pretty great job minding all the strings attached,” you say, looking at the side of his mask. “But no vacation? No PTO?” he asks, legs shifting below as he revives word from a nearby communications tower to make a turn in response to an emergency flight coming near. 

“Nope,” you respond, popping the P sound as you start to close your eyes. “Vacation is drinking after hours and hooking up with whomever will forget about you in the morning.” 

“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” Simon responds with sincerity. “I mean… don’t you guys go through the same shit?” you ask, voice starting to become more gruff from the lack of sleep. He is silent for a few moments, picking the words as you open an eye- concern starting to raise as you thought to have crossed a line. Beginning to open your mouth to apologise he responds, “Yes… no. I mean… some of us do have people waiting at home for us… Gaz and Soap have an on and off girl- but at the end of the day, it's a job. You work your hours- get fucking bloody and wash it all off before heading to bed.” 

“That's the thing though… about jobs like ours, you never really wash it all out. Just what can’t be seen on the front…” your voice drifts off as you turn in your chair, trying to make yourself comfortable in the upright position. Ghost does not speak further, only humming yet that sound is all you need to understand he knows your words on a personal level. “Why be so personal now, Handler?” Ghost questions, the words slipping as part of him uses your tried physique to gain an answer. 

“I could ask the same to you, Agent,” you tease back, “....and maybe I am just doing my job in the end too, using everything I’ve got…” you fall asleep soon after, soft snores exiting your mouth as Ghost turns to look at you once with soft eyes before addressing Samantha's report request. His gruff tones are like honey on your ears, drifting you further into a dreamless abyss. 

--

You are shaken awake as the plane begins to descend. Price had retaken control as you swear out, pausing from asking if he wanted any assistance from the glare he sent towards you. “I let you sleep for a reason,” he responds through the headset as you stretch yourself awake and feel for your water bottle, taking a large drink. He speaks up once more, “we have no fucking clue what we are doing once we are out of the sky.” 

“Did they not give you all a report?” you question, body now more respondent. You watch as he shakes his head, the tires scratch under pressure as the plane jumps a handful of times before becoming stagnant on the arstrip. “Had us work to the location of the plane from an unknown location. We had to use Whitby and Charlotte as our handlers to find our way back to you- they said it was comms and finding training and as you can see- we all passed with flying colours.” Rolling your eyes you speak back, “Good to hear my sass is rolling off on you all.”

You listen to him chuckle before locking the plane for any further motions, he helps you up from your seat with a hand as you grace him with a thankful smile- embarrassed from your jelly-like legs. Soap, Simon, and Kyle are all waiting in a convertible, your bags stuffed into the trunk as you all drive into the city, the wind whipping through your hair, the sun beginning to rise against your face as you voice out directions from the passenger's seat. 

--

The private estate sits atop a cliff casting over the sea below. Its deep blue waters invite you into their depths as you lean over the balcony, listening to the waves chase their way up the rock face to only fall back into itself. Light summery pop songs play through the radio as you think about the cold weather back at home as you bask in as much sun you can- praying that you can maintain a tan as a cough sounds from behind you. Pivoting on your heel your eyes go wide to see a barely buttoned linens-shirt in front of your face. The light white material blowing with the breeze as their salmon shorts tease a smile from your lips. “Hello love,” Whitby responds while pulling you into a hug. 

“Do you even work anymore?” you question out to the man, “I-mean. You were scheduled to be with the Americans this week- what changed?” “Solved it online, a few late nights of security footage here, a few voice-changed phone calls there and the president didn’t know any better about the corruption boiling underneath her feet.” You shake your head before following in step with the Agent as his arm drapes its way over your shoulder. Leading you towards the gardens with a smirk as the 141 team look towards him with utmost confusion. 

Johnny calls from the outdoor shower- already having explored the beaches from down the road ahead of your mission start time. “You do look good in swimwear but why are you here man?” Whitby cocks his head to the side before responding, his hand casting gentle rubs to your side. “I also made a… request-” you shove his side. “Well- erm more of a demand that I refuse to work with any other handler too- perks of being the best,” he boasts as you shove him off of you. His smile dips as he whispers sorry as you roll your eyes and take a bow. 

“Glad to know you love me only for work,” you tease- starting to make your way back inside the villa as Whiby darts back over, pulling at your waist as you both fall into an outdoor couch. “You know it's not like that… I mean fuck- I even prop-” you cover his mouth with your hand as he kisses it teasingly. Shaking your hand off with mock disgust, everyone around you stands still and walks closer. “You are engaged?” they ask, worry coursing through their features as they think back to your… quite possibly flirtatious moments Whitby's in the company history that was more than well known throughout the ranks. 

“Oh heavens no! Definitely one day but, duty comes first,” You say, hand on Whitby's knee as a light apology yet he already accepted your decision years ago but that did not mean the offer didn’t hang over both of your heads as did everyone else in your life know not to come in between in beside the playful banter your teams were generally known for. Simon huffs out as your mind darts back to the conversations you shared last night, you watch as he walks back inside the house- Soap trailing behind with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Price sits across from you both as Gaz resumes sketching out the landscape of the hills and orchids just off in the distance. 

 --

In the night, you and Whitby settled into a room together. Singing softly to the lyrics coming off your phone. Brushing your teeth and doing your skincare in the mirror, steam from the earlier shower was still present within the room, warming your skin as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

Whitby smiles leaning forwards, slipping his glasses back on while placing his arms at either side of you and lifts you atop the countertop. The cold stone drew goosebumps across your skin as Whitby's light caress from your hand, to your shoulders and resting on your neck as he squeezed lightly, bringing your lips back onto his with a moan. Your hands squeeze at the towel around his waist as you pull back, breathing heavy as your foreheads rest against one another, taking in air as your breathing starts to become more rapid. 

You feel his hand cup your cheek, making its way to your hair as he massages your scalp. You hum out softly, eyes closing as Whitby leans forward once more, taking your lower lip between his teeth in a playful bite. You feel the towel drop as he shivers, hands dropping to your thighs in an instance. Your eyes snap back open, gaze starting to look down before you are being lifted and carried into the bedroom- thrown on the bed as he stalks up to the bedside. Going on his hands and knees as he climbs over to you as you playfully back up, racing towards the headboard as he shoves you down- trapping both of your wrists between one of his hands- his legs locked around your waist as you huff out and try to blow the hair out of your face. 

Smirking down at you. He takes his glasses back off and sets them on the nightstand before gently brushing the hair out of your face, leaving a featherlight kiss to your temple. “Now do tell me… Handler,” He speaks out to you in a breathy tone as you clench your thighs together. “...what are your commands for me tonight?” he teases. 

“Well if you would let me go, maybe I could do a better job at that,” he hums out in contemplation, your breath hitching as he shifts his body weight still hovering above your lips. Your lips start to feel dry in anticipation, “not the answering I was looking for, love.” You roll your eyes before he switches positions, flipping you to face him- his face hovering over your own yet he does not connect his lips to your own. 

“Tease,” you groan out, wiggling your legs, trying to escape from underneath him. He lets go of your hands as they trace the muscles of his lower stomach, down to his abs thoughtful yet just before your hands can drift deeper he distracts you with his lips against your neck as your back arches, hands falling to grip at the bedsheets. He whispers to you, “I ask again, what is it you desire tonight?”

“I desire for you both to put some fucking clothes on you horny fucks,” the voice startes you both- bodies going still and blood going cold as Whitby covers your body with his own as he starts to pull a gun from underneath one of your pillows. You crane your head to see over Whitby's shoulder, eyes going wide to see red-hair glowing underneath the moonlight. Their green eyes search your own with distaste before curing up into a smile seeing Whitby's ass. 

“Looking truly peachy tonight, Whitby,” Agent Beetle teases as you shove the agent off of you, picking up and slipping on the shirt Beetle throws at you with a whistle. Whitby remains on the bed, face red as he racks his mind for the best way to not embarrass himself further. You open the closet, offering the other agent a pair of pants as he hardly covers himself and makes escape to the bathroom. 

“Do I want to know how long you were standing there, Agent?” you press, hands now feeling around the closet for bottoms as the female Agent sits down at the foot of the bed, eyes trailing around the room. “Not too long, Handler of Dick,” she teases further as you press your face into a pair of pants, shaking your head and letting out a silent scream before placing them on. Whitby had yet to return from the bathroom as you both listen to the shower turn on with a raised brown before you show the female agent towards the kitchen for a late cup of tea. 

“I have a 87% accuracy rating to where the Princess could potentially be held from intercepting a call,” you nod your head, “2 sugar- one milk, right” “correct.”

“Anything else?” you press. Beetle looks at you, taking a slow sip of their drink, “yes, I managed to speak with them briefly while they were being moved. No signs of serious physical injury and they smiled at the mention of your name- something about their knight in shining armour or maybe that was Whitby…” their voice trails off in contemplation, eyes replaying the conversation. “No, actually it might have been Jacobs- well that part does not matter! What matters right now is why you were about to go down on an Agent who is not supposed to be here, Handler?” they rebuttal as you take a small sip of your own, setting it back down on the counter. 

“Can a person not have needs?” you ask as they send you a deadpan look. Your face falls into your hands, groaning out, “Not you too…” “How is this me too?” Beetle questions with a knowing smile. Gossipers- the whole lot… you swear to yourself before picking conversion back up- trying to save what little face you have left. 

“I already said no… but that does not mean we both do not love one another. I’ve already told him, multiple times at that to find someone else- to-to move on from me yet he never does and I never do either. I love him, I know that but…” you exhale a deep breath, the floor creaking from down the hall as you both pause. Your shoulders tense before dropping as Whitby places a kiss to your shoulder and steals a sip from your drink. You watch as he does this, maintaining eye contact yet as you peer deeper in- you only see understanding. He has been listening… 

He moves away, placing the cup back down before messing through the fridge for a late night snack as you playfully shake your head, Beetle clearing their throat- drawing your attention back to your previous conversation. “But as I was saying, it was one of my final missions before getting promoted and it went tits up. We became swarmed and I was the only agent left on the premises. Aggressors were everywhere, Police were moving up the stairs and I was blocked into a corner- underneath a table. One of them managed to get through my jacket. I strangled them, reaching towards the gun and just as I fired… the bullet continued and hit a civilian. I didn't notice at the time, my body filled with adrenaline and the need to escape yet as I looked back, church bells ringing- I…” you start to quietly sob as Whitby wraps an arm around you for support as you lean back into his embrace. “I killed the groom on what was supposed to be his happiest day, I made it his last and… it's the guilt. Knowing that I took that away from someone that I cannot allow myself to have the same.” You fail to even out your breathing as Whitby begins to glare over your head at Beetle for making you into this state. 

“That’s why I can never be anything more with anyone… no matter how much I may want to… I deserve to be in this pain for giving it out to someone undeserving-” 

“Daniels-” Beetle speaks out softly as you shake your head. “It's s'alright agent,” you say while blowing your nose. “We have a princess that I can hopefully save the next day and a man I can fall into bed with later that night and I am okay with that… as long as he is.” you say, hands now tracing patterns into his arm as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his arms tighten around your form a bit more snuggly. 

“As long as I’m with you darling, in any way,” Whitby states. “Let's go back to bed now, Beetle, there is a room across from ours, I think we have awakened the rest of the house- best we all get some good rest.” You look down the hall, seeing the various lights lit underneath the doors before holding Beetle's hand gently- giving it a squeeze and dropping it. Both watching as she turns into her room as you both do the same.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @yuujisbearx

[dragonsdomain]

Bleeding Out in the Backyard

"Mansions are rich and have a lot of security. One day their lead officer shows them a concerning video of Danny Fenton in the back ally behind their home."

A phic phight prompt by DizzlyPuzzled

...

Pamela Manson sipped her tea before blinking at the camera again. It had been a while since she'd paid attention to these security cameras, but she's starting to think that may have been a mistake.

"Honey?" she called into the hall. "Jeremy? Can you come over here?"

"Sure, sweetie!" Jeremy swept into the room, then drew to an abrupt stop at the view on the screen. "Is that Sam's scraggly boyfriend bleeding out in the backyard?"

Pamela opened her mouth to argue that he wasn't her boyfriend if she had anything to say about it before slapping her forehead. "Oh dear, I should call an ambulance! I wouldn't want to get sued by his crazy parents."

"Why is he bleeding out in our backyard?" Jeremy muttered.

"Here, call the cops, dear," Pam said, handing her phone to Jeremy before poking her head out to the hall again and shrieking "Sam! Get down here!"

Pam's phone dinged in Jeremy's hand. He glanced down at it. "Sam says 'what?'"

"Ugh!" Pamela grabbed the phone back from him and called Sam. "Get down here, you ungrateful girl! Your wretched friend is bleeding out in the backyard!"

There was a beat of silence. Jeremy was thankfully pulling out his own phone to call 911 with. "Mom..." Sam answered, "Are you trying to April Fool's prank me? 'Cause this is a really bad way to do it. Or-- wait, Tucker? Are you pretending to be my mom?"

"I am your mother!" Pam screeched. "Get down here before I have to come up and get you!"

Jeremy was speaking with an operator on the other side of the phone, describing the situation. Good.

Sam strode into the room presently with eyeliner half-removed. She takes in the screen, and Pam watches some indeterminate firecracker of emotions smack up onto Sam's face and then right back off. "...I forgot we have security cameras."

"Ugh," Pam rolls her eyes, mentally brushing off the fact that she had also forgotten.

"Okay, so... he's probably doing a prank."

Pam's eyelid twitches. "You can't be serious, Sam. Your father has already called an ambulance."

Sam cursed under her breath. "Uh, lemme go check on him, see what's going on. I'll call you from the yard and tell you what's up."

"Make it quick," Pamela said, gritting her teeth.

Sam dashed off again. Pamela propped herself up on the desk next to the cameras. She noticed she was shaking and tried taking some deep breaths to soothe her nerves. That boy was going to regret this if it really was just a prank.

Pam nearly shrieked when her phone rang, before she managed to fumble it up to her ear and answer.

"Hey! Haha, so! Yeah, it was just a prank!" Sam said, and Pam wondered if she was imagining that strained note in her daughter's voice. "It was just fake blood. Y'know. Uh, he didn't know about the cameras. And he was going to call me down to come see. So, ha, sorry about the ambulance, but you can send them away when they get here. 'Cause he's. He's fine."

Pamela's head drooped down on the desk. "Sam. Samantha."

Sam laughed nervously. "W-what?"

"You're grounded."

"Hey!"

Pam hung up. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

"What? So is he fine?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," Pamela said exhaustedly.

Jeremy frowned at the screen. "He's still sticking to the bit."

Pamela glanced up and watched Sam dragging her friend across the grass, leaving behind an ugly trail of awfully convincing fake blood. She hoped it was water soluble.

"That girl is going to stop hanging out with those awful boys if it's the last thing I make her do."

[michelleleewise]

🌹Her Romeo🌹

Pairing: Avenger! Loki x insecure! Female reader

Warnings: yelling, manipulation, crying, non consensual touching/a kiss, anxiety, swearing, name calling, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, self esteem issues, if I missed anything let me know!!

Summary: Loki's pov reveals the truth while you nurse your heart...

A/n- graphics by @harlequin-hangout, thanks so much to @mochie85 for helping brain storm through this!! Your amazing my dear!!!!!

Part Three-- Part Four-

Backstage (opening night)-

Loki looked in the mirror, adjusting his tie looking down at his watch smiling. The reservations were in half and hour and his nerves were on edge. He walked to where his coat hung on the hook, reaching in the pocket pulling out the small box, the velvet soft under his fingertips as he opened it making sure its contents were nestled safely in place when a knock came at the door. "Come in." He called out slipping the box back in his pocket.

"Hey Lo, you did great tonight." Samantha said walking inside, closing the door behind her "Thank you, so did you." He nodded putting his hands in his pockets "are you coming to the after party?" She asked, sauntering forward not taking her eyes off him "no, I have plans with y/n." He said taking a step back. "Funny, I didn't see her in the crowd, are you sure she came?" She asked continuing towards him "I am not sure, but even then I have plans." He said taking another step back. "I saw how she treats you, you deserve much better." She smiled continuing her course "my life is no concern of yours." He said sternly when the back of his legs hit the couch.

"Oh, I could make it my concern." She purred catching him off guard pushing him back. "What are you.." he started when she jumped on his lap, grabbing the front of his jacket "get off of me this instant." He said grabbing her hips trying to manuver her "I can make you feel good Lo...just let me..." She purred leaning forward "I have tried to be nice, but you are wearing my patience. Now get....off." he growled clenching his jaw "mmm...Loki." She moaned loudly when he heard a shuffle of fabric on the other side of the door. "Shit.." he muttered going to stand when she pressed her lips to his, holding the sides of his face when he heard you say his name, your voice quiet as he grabbed her wrists pulling free.

"oops, guess we're caught." Samantha said laughing "y/n...wait! It's not..." he tried watching you take a step back, his heart racing as he pushed samantha off. "she was going to find out eventually." Samantha purred grabbing his arm "there is nothing to find out! Y/n, please...i have not done anything with her, I swear!" Loki said sternly wrenching his arm from her. He watched you close your eyes, surely wishing you were anywhere but here right now "Love, please...listen to me." Loki said, reaching out to touch your arm, pulling back when you jerked away from him. "i..I can't do this." He heard you whisper, the rose dropping to the floor as you ran down the hall. "y/n!" Loki yelled after you, deep down knowing you wouldn't stop as he ran after you.

He ran out the backstage door seeing security "which way did she go?" He asked looking around "she left through the main doors sir." He replied as Loki bolted up the aisle hoping to catch you, he needed to explain. He threw the front door open, looking around he saw your figure running to your car "y/n, wait!" Loki yelled, about to step off the sidewalk when a mob of women surrounded him. He looked up seeing your car screeching forward, smoke billowing behind it as you drove off. "Ladies, I am terribly sorry but i have to leave, there is an emergency I must deal with." He said bowing slightly hearing the disappointed groan from the small crowd. "Next time, I swear." He offered a smile before running back into the building.

He stormed into his dressing room, anger coursing through him seeing Samantha sprawled out on the couch "is she finally gone?" She snarked sitting up "get out of my dressing room...now!" He yelled grabbing his cost feeling his pockets "looking for this?" She asked holding up the small box when Loki snatched it out of her hand "what do you even see in her? She so...plain." Samantha said crossing her arms as Loki stormed up to her making her step back "she is a better woman then you will ever be." He growled stepping closer "you are nothing but a trollop...a harlot looking for her next opportunity." He said seeing her eyes widen "did you truly believe you could win my affections with your manipulation?" He asked taking another step forward

"women like you are a dime a dozen, falling to your knees at the first man who pays attention to you" he continued, the fear swirling in her eyes making him smile "you are nothing but a conniving, deceitful cunt." He snarled towering over her as she fell back onto the couch "you are the dirt beneath my queens feet." He said leaning over her "you...are...nothing." He hissed standing back up putting the box in his pocket "y..you can't talk to me like that, I'll have you fired!" She yelled beginning to stand when his glare snapped to her making her sit back down "I will speak to you however I wish, and I refuse to work with you let alone be in the same building with you so I will be resigning." He said storming to the door "contact me again, and you will regret it." He said sternly before turning and leaving.

Loki walked into the alley in the back, his heart racing as he closed his eyes trying to teleport home, opening his eyes seeing he missed his mark by a few blocks "dammit!" He yelled, running as fast as he could towards your shared home. He needed to see you, talk to you. He rounded the corner seeing you placing a bag in the trunk as you slammed it down "y/n wait!" He yelled, seeing you glance back at him before jumping inside, burnt rubber filling the air as you took off just as he reached you. "Yn! Please!" He yelled, running his hands through his hair "fuck!" He yelled, kicking the side of the building watching the lights of your car fade into the night. He was too late....

"They were kissing val!" You yelled setting your coffee down seeing her hold her hands up "ok...ok, I'm just trying to understand." Val said watching you "I told you, I walked into his dressing room and she was on his lap, and they were...yeah." you said picking at your finger nails. "It just doesn't make sense, everytime we've talked you've told me how wonderful he is, and how good he treats you." She said sighing "well apparently he was just waiting for the next best thing." You huffed "for two years...I don't know." She said crossing her arms. "So what, I'm in the wrong?" You snapped looking at her "I didn't say that, I'm just saying there has to be an explanation." Val said sternly. "Yeah, he's a liar." You said laying your head against the back of the chair.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Val asked "no, he tried to call but I turned my phone off." You said rubbing your eyes. "Well maybe, if you want to that is, hear what his side is. This Samantha girl doesn't seem the most trustworthy." Val said. "I don't want to listen to anymore of his bullshit Val, I'm done." You huffed standing up "I just need a few days to figure things out and find a place." You said grabbing your cup when Val got up grabbing your shoulders "you are welcome here as long as you need, but y/n think about what I said please." Val said gripping your arms "I know you love him, and I don't want you to lose what you had because some skank came between you." She said. You nodded looking to the floor "alright, I'll think about it. But not tonight, im exhausted." You said as Val took your cup.

"I got your room set up, third floor on the end. You get the balcony." She smiled walking to the sink. "Thanks val, this really means alot." You said grabbing your suitcase "what are friends for? And if he did...you know...I'll help you hide the body." She winked making you laugh "whose?" You asked walking to the stairs "both of them...now get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." She said. You nodded, slowly heading up to the third floor. "Why is this house so damn big." You huffed finally making it to the top. You panted, trying to catch your breath reaching the end of the hall, opening the door seeing a large four poster bed with sheer white curtains flowing from the canopy, fairly lights twinkling softly along the fabric "romantic val." You laughed setting your suitcase on the bed, walking to the French doors, opening them you walked out onto the balcony. Leaning over the thick balustrade seeing vines curling and twisting up along the white trellis like a second skin, rose buds blooming throught the foliage.

You leaned over letting out a deep sigh, the sweet smell of the roses mixed with the night air calming your nerves hearing the steady song of crickets around you. It was peaceful...beautiful, you could picture yourself standing here, Loki stood behind you, his strong arms wrapped around you holding you like he would never let you go as he swayed back and forth whispering sweet nothings and promises in your ear. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, feel his touch on your skin as you let the silence consume you when reality came flashing back. You opened your eyes feeling a tear roll down your cheek, reminding you of what happened...that you were alone.

You took one last look out into the night "where's my Romeo.." you whispered feeling your heart clench in your chest. "I guess he's her Romeo now." You sighed heading back inside the room closing the doors behind you. You unpacked your suitcase, what little your were able to grab fitting in the dresser as you changed into your night clothes. "I need her job." You laughed walking into the bathroom that was the size of your bedroom at home. You quickly brushed your teeth, switching the lights off you let the fairy lights guide you to the large bed. You pulled the blanket down, climbing up you slid down pulling them to your chin staring up at the canopy.

You knew in your heart val had a point, maybe there was something you didn't know...but your mind refused to listen. The doubt growing the more you thought. What was he actually doing on those missions...he is the God of lies...had he done this before and he just got caught this time. You rolled over trying to close your eyes, the image of them burnt into your memory flashed behind your eyelids. You reached up grabbing the pillow next to you bringing it to your chest feeling tears welling in your eyes. You're chest hurting with every breath as your heart felt like it was physically ripped out. Clutching the pillow you couldn't stop the sobs that racked through you. You loved him, with every fiber of your being you loved him but it wasn't enough...it was never enough.

you prayed to whoever was listening that you could move on from him, get over him...you didnt want this pain.....if this is what it was to love him, you didn't want to it anymore.....

@vbecker10@lokisgoodgirl @springdandelixn @kinky-faerie @xorpsbane @midnights-ramblings @simping-for-marvel @holdmytesseract @kkdvkyya @slpnbty2001 @lokixryss @vane28282 @violethaze @coldnique @aniar4wniak @nate-ate-hate @buttercupcookies-blog @brattymum96 @dukes2581 @your-taste-on-my-lips @mybabyh @blog-the-lilly @irishhappiness @sinsandguilt @filthyhiddles @lovebyloki @kikster606 @javagirl328 @misunderstoodself @highkeysimpingforloki @eleniblue @commanding-officer @athalialaufeyson @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiandbuckysdoll @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @high-functioning-lokipath @kittiowolf210 @slytherclaw1227 @joyfullymassivewhispers @wolfsmom1 @libbybeaz @lokikissesmyforehead @goblingirlsarah @thomase1

[collaredattachment]

Classroom Blues

Character: Melissa Schemmenti Word count: 3,310 Warnings: Car accidents, panic attacks, PTSD Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters. Every single kid stops what they’re doing. --- It’s never been so frightening to look out the window

“That’s looking great, Noah!”

You smile over his shoulder, and he beams back at you before returning to his crayons.

Second graders are so easy to please.

You walk past him to get a look at everybody else’s paper plate dinosaurs. Nathan’s is breathing fire. Tyrone gave his a little princess crown. When you asked, Jamila said hers is ‘a apatopasaurus’ and that she refuses any further comment.

Fantastic work, overall.

It’s looking mighty fine outside too; the day is stretching into afternoon, and the sun blazes into the art room, etching on the walls the shadows of the easter bunnies the first graders had made last week.

The clock is slowly ticking towards two, and you’re only fifteen minutes away from a hot McVegan — no tomato, and two hours of the Good Place. Jamila lifts her hand as high as she can and speaks before you can even get to her.

“I’m all done,” she says. Her apatopasaurus is made of three plates instead of one, and the legs have pink pipe cleaners for both claws and a tongue. There’s a little tear drawn beneath its googly eye.

“Oh, wow.” You turn it around and smile at the glitter glue spots drawn on the other side. “This is really great, Jamila. You wanna help me put it on the—“

Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters.

Every single kid stops what they’re doing.

“Look!” Samantha yells and runs to the window. Half the class follows her, crowding in a line to catch a glimpse. God’s mercy that most of them are too short to see past the supply shelf. It offers you no such protection, though.

Just by the crossing outside, a black car is crushed against a DHL truck. Must have been going way outside the speed limit; you’re barely allowed to hit 40 out there because of the kids. The left side is completely collapsed around the truck’s hood, but you can see the driver just fine from here.

Dead.

He’s dead.

You snap into action.

“Hey, come on,” you say and start herding them away from the windows. “The ambulance guys will handle it, okay? Let’s get back to work.”

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, like you’re speaking into a bottomless tunnel. The kids don’t seem to hear you either. More likely they’re just not listening because they’re eight-year-olds and most of them haven’t had time to even think about death yet.

They haven’t been to a funeral on a perfectly sunny day, just like this one.

Haven’t hung upside down by their seatbelt in a upended car.

Or seen how broken glass mangles a face.

Stop.

You blink yourself back into the here-and-now. Your knees are already beginning to feel weak, ready to buckle under the slightest strain.

Just breathe. Ten years of practiced technique, honed to perfection. Breathe.

For the kids, if not for yourself.

The minute hand on the clock ticks over to fifty-three. A few kids, the same ones who always put the watercolors back where they belong once they’re done, were kind enough to head back to their seats, but that still leaves you with eight children glued to the glass, watching the driver get dragged out of the car. He’s dropped onto the pavement. Someone’s trying to resuscitate. You can tell from here that it won’t work.

“Okay, I mean it this time.” You try to cover your trembling voice, to apply the gentle authority you’d seen Barbara pull a thousand times. They don’t move an inch. Maybe it’s the gulf of difference in experience, maybe it’s just Barbara being Barbara, or maybe they can tell that you’re afraid.

You sigh and peel the kids off the window one by one and escort them into their seats. Inelegant. Methodical. Your limbs function outside your jurisdiction in a world entirely of their own. When you bring your hand to hover in front of your face, it feels lightyears away, a limb puppeted without its master.

You can still feel crumbled glass embedded between the creases of your palm.

Breathe, damn it.

“Who was that guy?” Jamila asks even after you’ve sat her back down by her dinosaur.

“I don’t know, buddy.” You brush cardboard clippings off her shorts and onto the floor. The fabric is void of feeling under your prickling fingers. “But I’m sure they’ve called an ambulance. They’ll take care of it.”

Sure enough, when you glance at the road, Janine is buzzing around the truck driver, her phone already glued to her ear.

The bell rings at last. The kids yell out in joy and their wave of conversation washes you back ashore for a second. They grab their bags, forget their plates and stickers and markers, and are out the door in record time. They’re so excited.

You can’t tell them to slow down, to stop, even, until the commotion outside is finished. You can’t do anything but stand still and listen as their voices ebb away into just an echo.

Pills. Where are your pills.

You stumble to your bag and search it with trembling, unsure hands, like fingers against a jammed car door, dipping into the seams to tear the whole thing off if you have to. You throw your keys on the table, same as your wallet, your planner, your lighter, and a handful of stray pens; all of them in a heap that slips over the edge and to the floor. You turn the whole bag inside out, but can’t find the pill bottle.

Your chest is getting tighter, heavier, like the spaces between your ribs are stuffed with cotton, like you’re trapped under a ten ton truck careening off the highway uncaring of casualties.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

You can’t breathe, that’s the whole fucking problem.

The room is empty. Your only companion is the sun, and even she’s about to dip behind the buildings on the other side of the street.

You fall to your knees, grasping at the collar of your shirt, your fingers far too stiff, too jittery to undo one single button. You tear them open anyway. One flies under the shelf, like a body clean through the windshield. He said he didn’t need the seatbelt; it was such a short trip anyway. His legs were bent wrong six times over down in the ditch.

The world becomes muffled, stuffs your ears with ringing to keep you from hearing your own scratchy, frightened heaves for air. To save you the fear. The shame. You claw at your throat, at your chest, hoping you might dig out the chunk obstructing your windpipe.

You want to scream. So much. You’re mentally holding yourself by the shoulders, begging yourself to keep quiet. You’re in a position of authority. A child sees you like this, it’ll go down to the parents and you’re in trouble. Abbott’s in trouble. You can’t afford that.

You remember the mud staining your shirt when you’d crawled out, your leg broken and your face dripping with blood. You still don’t know if it was yours. Sirens, nearby. A broken airbag. A broken neck.

Blood.

You back up against the wall and your head bangs into the bricks with a sudden jerk, though the pain is nothing, nothing compared to—

A hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in fright, your other arm flying to shield your face. Something hot drips down your cheek, but you can’t bring your fingers up to check, can’t trap yourself in that knowledge.

“Whoa, okay,” someone says. “No sudden touching. Gotcha.” The voice sinks like a rock into deep, dark water, far off and twisted. You can’t move to see who it is, who’s come to watch you in your weakest, most undignified moment.

“I’m gonna take your hand,” they say. “That okay?”

You nod, but the movement is stiff and thick with tension, just like the neckbrace they’d given you, after everything. You had a rash for weeks.

Your hand is enveloped by another, the touch soft, the fingers a little cold. There are rings right above the knuckles: two of them plain bands and one with a big, sharp stone on it. You squeeze the hand hard, hard enough to make the other person groan a thick, hefty ‘ow’.

“Okay. Think you could try and breathe with me? Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

The person doesn’t wait this time. They take a deep breath, exaggerated enough for even you to hear, and then exhale, like wind in the trees on a stormy night when nobody should’ve been driving in the first place.

Your attempt in following them is sad and broken. The air remains trapped in your throat, refusing to flow all the way into your lungs, no matter how you try to wheeze it in or out.

“Good, keep going.”

It’s not even remotely good, not even passable, but you keep it up anyway. In and out, but it’s more like i-i-i-i-in-in-in and ooo-out-o-ooout. This doesn’t deter the person sitting next to you, though. They keep their breathing even and deep, and you follow them, out of pace and rhythm in a one-sided dance where you keep crushing your mystery partner’s toes.

“You’re doin’ real good,” they say, and a thumb is drawn across your knuckles, soft and soothing, free of crusted blood or thick, soupy mud. “Just keep going.

Ain’t no point in rushin’ it, right?”

You do as you’re told. In and out. Your pained attempts slowly start to resemble what the other person is doing, more of a mirror than a reflection in disturbed water. The locked knots in your muscles start unwinding themselves open one by one, and you suddenly find yourself sagging forwards without control.

Arms wrap around your torso and your head knocks into someone’s clavicle instead of the floor. You’re shifted like a living doll into a more comfortable position and your nose buries itself into the nook between the person’s neck and shoulders. You inhale a lungful of syrupy perfume and papaya shampoo.

The clock keeps ticking. The rhythm anchors you, keeps you safely here on the classroom floor where there’s no cars, no highways, no forgotten seatbelts.

“That any better?”

Melissa Schemmenti moves her hand to your back to draw big, smooth circles into your shirt. You manage a dazed, exhausted nod.

The classroom is swimming back into view, bit by bit, color by color. Chairs abandoned where their occupants leapt out of them, craft supplies all over the floor. Tamir forgot his backpack.

“The kids—“

“Are fine,” Melissa says. Her arm slides off your back and around your shoulder instead. She squeezes you tight. “Janine and Gregory were on herding duty.”

“Ok,” you whisper. The clock ticks on, and your stomach dips when you read the face: ten past three.

“You wanna talk about it?” Melissa asks.

The scenery fades in and out, transforms into the woods by the highway and back into an elementary art class in disarray. A mess, both ways. You press your knuckles into your eyes and watch the sparks.

“I’m not sure,” you say.

Melissa nods and clicks open her phone. She shoots someone a text, though you only realize to look away by the time she’s about to write something to Janine.

“Thanks, though” you mumble into the crook of her neck. Your body is dipping straight past relaxed all the way into half-dead. Your fingers feel like spaghetti noodles.

Melissa huffs a laugh. “It’s no trouble.”

You sniff and wipe your cheeks. Apparently you were crying after all.

“How did you find me?”

Melissa puts her phone back in her pocket and you can feel her jaw tighten. She’s thinking.

“I was coming to check on the kids because, well. You know.” She waves her free hand toward the window. “I saw you go down. Fell right off your feet. Scared me to hell, you know.”

You grimace. “Sorry.”

“Pssh,” she says. “Like I said. It’s no trouble.”

You watch the splotch of sunlight, still persistently on the wall. Another hour and it’ll be gone.

You start to peel yourself off of Melissa, pausing mid-movement to wait for the ringing in your ears to ease up, and lean against the wall instead. Melissa, thankfully, keeps her arm around you for support.

“I was in a car accident,” you say.

Melissa’s brow shoots to her hairline when her head whips around.

“It was bad.” You rub your fingers together; a feeble attempt to get some feeling back into them. “I was sitting in the back and my best friend was driving. Her boyfriend was in the passenger seat.”

Deep breaths. In and out.

“They both died.”

“Jesus,” Melissa says, spits the lord’s name in a way that would make Barbara send both of you to sunday school. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, hoping to buy yourself a second of time to stave off any further admission; words you know you can’t keep to yourself right now but ones you’re embarrassed to admit regardless. “I can’t even watch tv shows about that stuff ever since. Of course it would find me in the front yard.” You scoff. “Figures.”

Melissa sighs, soft and smooth, so unlike your own strained, barely calmed breathing. “Shit.”

You can’t help the smile. “Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?” she asks.

You give your neck a little roll, wiggle your fingers and your toes. “I think so. I don’t think I can walk just yet, though.”

“That’s all right. My dinner plans can wait a couple minutes.”

Footsteps draw your attention to the hall. Barbara appears in the doorway in her light brown jacket, her and Melissa’s purses both slung over her shoulder. She takes a quick look at you and then stares meaningfully at Melissa, posing a silent question.

Heat floods into your cheeks, your neck, your ears. It could’ve been Janine, could’ve been Gregory, even Jacob, but of course it has to be Barbara Howard, the singlemost composed person in the whole world, who stumbles in on you crying into Melissa’s shoulder.

Her divorce papers were recently filed, though, so if anything, she’s probably very familiar with the feeling.

Melissa mimes ‘five more minutes’ at Barbara, and there’s a silent battle of wills between them, a conversation you couldn’t even begin to understand, after which Barbara sighs with a smile on her face, bows her head and disappears back into the hall.

“You gonna get home okay?” Melissa asks you when the sound of Barbara’s heels has faded.

“Yeah. Usually I bike, but I think I’ll walk home today. I’ll be fine.” Melissa’s face dips into a frown as she very seriously doubts you. There’s no escaping that look, and it only takes you a second to start sweating. You wonder how people actually trying to fight Melissa Schemmenti aren’t immediately recuded to cinders.

“I swear,” you say, and draw a cross over your heart. Melissa smacks her lips and tilts her head as she assesses your woozy, bulldozed self. Apparently you aren’t shaking that bad, because when she straightens herself, she says, “Okay. But.”

You want to groan. A good sign. Your feet are a little closer to ground again.

“You text both me and Barb when ya get home. Is that clear?”

You lift your hand in a salute. “Crystal.”

Melissa laughs, a smoke-worn, throaty sound that pulls you another inch closer to reality.

“Keep that up and no Schemmenti leftovers for you,” she says. “Cheeky little shit.”

She somehow drags a laugh out of you, short and genuine and good, and it’s not like none of this happened, but it lets you put a band-aid on the wound at least.

“I think I could try getting up now.” You try putting a little pressure on your foot, and though your leg doesn’t immediately smack right back to the floor, it does tremble a significant amount. Heat crawls down your neck again as you ask,

“Could you, uh…”

“’Course.”

Melissa gets to her feet with a strained groan and a ‘fuck my fucking knees’, but manages to get herself standing. She offers you her hand and you take it, keeping your free palm firmly against the wall as she pulls you to your feet. It’s an unsteady operation, one that leaves you dizzy and winded, and nearly back on your ass more than once.

Once you’re safely standing, Melissa gathers up the contents of your bag and hands it to you, but only once she’s made sure that you can actually carry it. She holds you by the shoulders all the way to the hall, and doesn’t let go until the door has safely clicked shut. You still keep your hand by the wall, though. Just in case.

“I’ll have to come in early tomorrow to clean up,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t even think about it.”

When you look at her, Melissa is staring you down with the intensity of three suns. Whole solar systems, even. You put your hands up in surrender.

“Only if you’re sure,” you say. It is a relief, you have to admit. Especially if you still have to run to the pharmacy to get your prescription refilled.

“Don’t you worry your li’l head about it.”

She walks you all the way to the entrance, where Barbara is still waiting with a paperback book propped on Melissa’s bag.

“All cleared up, then?” she asks.

“Yup,” Melissa says. Short and sweet. Barbara doesn’t ask any further question, though you doubt it’s from lack of interest. At least Melissa has a dinner story to share, if nothing else.

You all slip out the door, but Melissa stops you there. She looks you over, head to toe, her lips pursed and her hands fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“You sure about this?” she asks. “I could give you a ride.”

You fish your keys from your bag and close your fingers around the one meant for the lock on your bike.

“I’ll be okay. And I’ll text you.”

Melissa raises her brow.

“Both of you.”

The idea of sending Barbara Howard a text of any kind outside a professional environment feels like some kind of a breach of protocol, but Barbara herself doesn’t seem phased. Outward, at least.

Janine is going to lose her mind when you tell her about this.

A cool breeze slides under your thin shirt, and your arms erupt in goosebumps.

“I better get going,” you say, but can’t get yourself to walk over to the bike rack just yet. Your fingernail digs into the notches of the key, and you try to figure out something to say, anything that could put into words just how much Melissa has done for you in one afternoon. In the end, you decide to go with something simple.

“Thank you, Melissa.”

She looks amused, truly like she’s done what anybody else would have. Like it’s nothing. You wonder if she’ll ever know how much it means, even if you tried to tell her.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “It was no trouble.”

How perfectly Melissa of her.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, and with one final wave and a smile goodbye, you start heading for home.

Behind you, once you’re definitely out of range, Barbara turns to Melissa.

“What happened?” she asks.

Melissa watches you clear the crosswalk and waits until you disappear behind the Subway.

“I’ll tell you later, hon.” She presses a kiss to Barbara’s cheek. “First we need to eat. I am too fucking hungry to talk.”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” Barbara gasps, “you watch that tongue of yours.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Barb.”

“Incorrigible,” Barbara mutters and heads for the car. Melissa doesn’t miss the smile on her face.

“Love you too.”

[blackwolfstabs]

SAME OLD BOY, SAME SWEET GIRL

some Sam x Danny fluff. (requested by @michiganstray)

fandom: Scream characters: Tara Carpenter, Sam Carpenter, & Danny Brackett content: fluff (kind of)

a/n: i don't like this.

“He deserves to know, Sam.”

Tara’s voice was both serious and sympathetic as it came through the phone’s speaker. Sam nodded, keeping her eyes fixated on the road. “I know.”

“What? Do you think he’s gonna be mad at you or—”

“No. No, it’s not that. I just…” she was at a loss for words at how to explain the mixture of emotions that were stirring inside her. She sighed, “I don’t know.”

But Tara reassured her. 

“I know it’s scary, but you’re gonna be fine. He’ll be with you and so will I. Just take a deep breath, okay?”

Another sigh. She didn’t know why she was feeling this way. “Okay… I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too.” And she hung up. One person down, the first person she’d always swore would be the first. Now, was the next one in line.

──

Sam let herself into Danny’s apartment, recalling him leaving the door unlocked when she had texted him that she was on her way. She didn’t say anything at first, her anxiety kicking in at full speed when she turned the door handle, but luckily, Danny was the one to greet her.

He glanced over his shoulder from putting some clean dishes up in the cabinet. “Hey, baby.” He closed the cabinet door and turned around to give her his attention. “What’d the doctor say?”

Sam set her phone down on the counter with a small sigh, “She said it’s just like uh… a stomach bug. Should be gone in a couple days.” Surprisingly enough, her voice came out more casual than she thought it would. 

He nodded, “Mm…” Then, he came away from the counter to meet her, “She give you anything for it?”

She shook her head, struggling to keep from looking away, “No.” Her heart was fluttering like mad, making her already-tender stomach start to feel queasy again. She swallowed. She was never good at telling a lie, when it came to him.

Danny’s blue eyes caught her dark ones. “I told you, you should’ve gone sooner. They would’ve been able to catch it then.” As much as he meant this, a smirk was pulling at his lips. Sam was so stubborn, he knew that, so it wasn’t a wonder why she hadn’t listened to him.

His girlfriend shifted with a light shrug, “Maybe…”

He hummed again, and they exchanged a brief kiss before he gently brushed her cheek with his knuckles. He could still see the malaise still present in her eyes as she blinked up at him, which drew the pity for her out of him like it did every time. He knew she was tired. “You look like you could use a nap.”

Sam gave a wry scoff, as if saying “You think?” She’d been exhausted for what felt like weeks now, and now she knew why. But he didn’t…

Her boyfriend took that as a yes and pressed a gentle kiss to her head before starting towards his room, intending for her to follow.

Tara was right. He deserved to know the truth. Yes, it was new and life-changing and that scared her, which was why she was so anxious about it all. It was overwhelming, but she wasn’t alone. He got her into this just as much as she had gotten herself into it. 

She needed to tell him. 

“Danny.”

He stopped and turned around, “Hmm?”

The words nearly caught in her throat. She felt hot and shaky, like she was about to tell the deepest secret she’d ever known. “I-It’s not a stomach bug…” was what she could start with.

Danny blinked at her, the slight tilt of his head in-sync with the questioning expression that altered his face.

“I lied.”

His brow twitched. “Then, what is it?”

Samantha fidgeted with her hands and avoided eye contact as she tried to convince herself to just spit it out. It wasn’t that hard. “I, uh…” But then it just came to her. “I’m pregnant.” And the swirling, torrential anxiety inside of her came to a screeching halt.

The other blinked at her, his expression softening just to get locked into shock. “What?”

Her heart grew in rhythm again. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the small image the doctor had printed of the ultrasound. She didn’t look at it, just held it out to him. “I’m not sick, I’m pregnant,” she repeated. 

Danny retreated back to her and took the photo. He stared at it, and it was clear to Sam that this was the last thing he was expecting to hear from her. He glanced up to her, then back to the picture, then to her again. “Really?”

The tone of his voice, though still disbelieved, told Sam that it was okay. He wasn’t upset or scared or disappointed. He was hoping she would confirm that really. So, she couldn’t suppress the relief that managed to express itself in a smile when she nodded. “Yeah, I told her to check it four times.”

Again, he looked at the laminated image, a smile of admiration lighting up his face. Subtle, pleasant shock was quickly exchanged for thrilled excitement as he impulsively picked her up and spun her around, completely forgetting about her lingering “sickness” which was now confirmed to be morning sickness. “We’re gonna have a baby, Sam!” That reality was imaginatively unimaginable.

Sam couldn’t break her smile at his enthusiasm, actually cracking a laugh as she countered, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sick anymore! So, take it easy!” The sudden movement was enough to make her stomach twinge, even though she hadn’t eaten anything.

He got the message straight away and put her down, but he didn’t let her go. “Sorry,” he chuckled, brushing a strand of her hair back. He looked down at her, while she looked up at him, the two almost close enough to kiss. “That’s just amazing…”

She hummed in response, almost feeling shy as she blinked away and her cheeks grew warm. “It wasn’t just me, remember?” But that wasn’t to say she’d take full credit.

He chuckled again. “I know.” He still held the picture of her ultrasound in his hand that sat at her lower back, which brought him back to when she’d first come in. “Why couldn’t you tell me this when you first came in?” He wasn’t upset with her, he made sure she knew that, but he couldn’t understand why she’d seemed so anxious.

That’s when Samantha’s face dropped, and she shifted in his arms. “I just… I was scared…”

“Why?”

As stupid as the truth sounded, it was the truth, and if she knew anything, the truth was hard to settle with. “I’ve never had any good news to share before,” she confessed, “Everywhere I go, everything I do, someone seems to pay a price for it—someone I love… That’s the way it’s always been. And—”

“Sam.”

She stopped.

“This is so different,” he told her, his voice soft as he could tell the anxiety in her was starting to build back up again. “Not every experience you have has to hurt you, or your friends, or your family. Don’t let that chapter hold you back, baby. Turn the page.”

She just blinked at him.

“I’m not gonna stand here and tell you that it’ll be easy or there won’t be tough times along the way, but no matter what, you’re never alone,” he promised. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Then, he smiled. “You’re gonna be a great mother, Sam.”

The other gave a small, but warm smile. She knew pregnancy was the hardest and scariest thing a woman could go through, which was adding to her internal disruption, but she also knew that meant she was going to need to rely on Danny—as the father of the growing child inside of her and as the love of her life. “Thank you,” she replied. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Simultaneously, they joined in a kiss. They’d climbed mountains, raced rivers, faced storms, and fought dragons bigger than the chapter they were about to start. It was new, so there were a million different lessons to learn, a thousand different decisions to make, and a hundred different challenges to overcome. But they’d do it together. Because now, it wasn’t just about them. It wasn’t just about them as individuals, as a couple. It was about someone they’d created in their own love, passion, and dedication. Someone who’d be the chains that held all of who they were together. 

It wasn’t a mistake, or a curse, or a price that needed to be paid. It wasn’t a punishment, or a crime, or a fake name that could be stained with lies of a lifetime.

It was just perfect.

It was just them.

[rogue-durin-16]

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

[gamergirl929]

The Not So Little Secret (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

After a drunken one night stand, the reader finds the person she slept with unexpectedly, unexpectedtly considering they’d just walked on the team bus wearing her favorite hoodie a hoodie that had gone missing moments after her one night stand had made her escape.

A/N: This story is G!P, and has brief mentions of smut, so if that’s not your thing, feel free to skip this one.

You groan, the sound of your hotel room’s door shutting making you grimace, your head throbbing painfully thanks to the effects of the alcohol you drank the night before.  

“Wh-What?” You stutter as you sit up, your eyes wide when you realize you’re entirely bare, clothes strewn about the room.  

Your eyes widen in realization as you leap from the bed, it’s covers wrapped around you as you rush towards the door, jerking it open and stepping out into the hallway, your head on a swivel as you look for the person you’d shared a bed with the night before.  

“Well, looks like someone enjoyed their night.”  

You huff, rolling your eyes as you turn towards Kelley O’Hara, the defender snickering as Emily Sonnett snaps pictures of you in nothing but your bed’s sheet.  

“Was she good?” Emily asks with a snicker.  

You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder once more hoping to catch a glimpse of the person you spent the night with, but when you come up empty you turn back to the two defenders, your middle finger held high as you make your way into your room, kicking the door shut behind you.  

                                                           ***

The door to Sam and Kristie Mewis’s hotel room swings open, the latter tiptoeing inside, her teeth clenched as she moves towards her bed.  

“Oh my god, are you doing the walk of shame?” Sam asks from her place in the bathroom, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.  

“Shut up.” She growls as she slinks towards her bed.  

“Whose shirt is that?” Sam asks, giving the material a tug, the NYU shirt baggy on her frame.  

“I-I don’t know.” She mumbles and Sam’s blue eyes widen.  

“YOU DON’T KNOW!?” She screeches and Kristie groans, giving her temples a rub.  

“Not so loud.”  

Sam shakes her head.  

“How can you not know?”  

Kristie rolls her eyes.  

“I was drunk, I left as soon as I woke up, okay?” She shuffles towards her suitcase, jerking the shirt off over her head and throwing it in her empty, made bed.  

“So, you have, NO IDEA, who you slept with? You didn’t even look!?” She asks and Kristie shakes her head.  

“Just drop it, okay?” She huffs, tugging a shirt over her head as Sam snickers.

“Was it good?” She asks, her tongue trapped between her teeth, and Kristie groans, her cheeks flushing when she thinks of the night before, the way it felt when they’d first slid inside her-

Kristie is cut off mid-thought when Sam snorts.  

“Judging by the look on your face, I’d say it wasssssss REALLY good.” She sings, Kristie smacking her in the face with a nearby pillow.  

“Shut up, Samantha.”  

“Why? It’s seems like you were enjoying thinking about it.” She teases, her sister groaning louder as she kicks the bathroom door shut behind her, thoughts of the night before fresh in her mind, thoughts of what happened between the two of them making the ache in her hips prominent.  

Now if only she could remember who it was, she slept with, she could put the prominent ache in her core to the face of the person who’d caused it.  

                                                           ***

You stretch your arms high above your head as you make your way onto the bus, your face twisted in a grimace.  

“You look as bad as I feel.” Mallory groans as she falls in the seat beside Rose, the two wearing sunglasses to block out the brightness the sun provides.  

You fall into an empty seat, growling when your head hits the window.  

“You’re just having the best morning, aren’t you?” Kelley teases on her way by and you whine, your eyes fluttering shut.  

“Shut up.”  

“What’s wrong?”  

Your eyes crack open before widening in shock, the blonde making her way down the aisle wearing something familiar, something that had gone missing from your room moments before your one-night stand had left.  

“What?” Kristie asks, noting the look on your face and you shake your head rapidly, your cheeks burning.

“N-Nothing.” You stutter, turning towards the window, unable to look the woman in the eye.  

When Kristie moves out of view you shake your head, covering your face with your hands, your face hot to the touch.  

“What’s wrong with you?” Emily asks as she flops into the seat beside Lindsey, and right across from you.  

“J-Just don’t feel good.”  

“I mean, I thought you would feel great after what happened this morning.” She teases, the tips of your ears burning.  

You couldn’t believe it, out of all of the people you could’ve slept with you’d slept with Kristie Mewis, the one person you never wanted to find out your secret, the secret being the very thing you’d slid into her with the night before.  

“SOOOOO, Kris.”  

You pick your head up, swallowing hard when Sam makes her way down the aisle towards you.  

“Why don’t you tell everyone about the incredible one night-stand you had last night?” She smirks, bypassing you on her way to the seat beside her sister’s.  

Emily’s eyes widen, the blonde turning towards Kelley, whose brown orbs are already on you.  

“Oooooo, yeah Kristie, why don’t you tell us about this, one night-stand?” Emily smirks, and you turn, smacking your head purposely on the window.  

“Sam, I swear to god.” Kristie growls.  

“Apparently it was REALLY good, wasn’t it Kris?” Sam snickers and Kristie groans.  

“Come on Kristie, tell us all about this REALLY GOOD, one night-stand?” Kelley pries and you clear your throat, unable to bite back your smirk when you realize Kristie had referred to the night you shared as, really good.

Your smirk quickly turns into a frown, your eyes dropping to the crotch of your pants, pants that were hiding a secret you would rather the world not know about.  

“Apparently it was so good she couldn’t stop thinking about it this morning.” Sam gives her sister a nudge, the older Mewis covering her face with her hands.  

“Shut up.” She whines, the bus of USWNT players erupting in a fit of giggles.  

“Does this one night-stand have a name?” Emily asks, eyeing you out of the corner of her eye and you swallow hard.  

“She doesn’t remember who it was.” Sam shakes her head, missing the glance Kelley shoots your way.  

“SO, it could be ANYONE?” She asks, brown orbs still on you and you swallow hard, hoping that no one catches on to what Kelley is saying.  

“What about your night Y/N?” Emily asks with a smirk and your brows arch, everyone turning your way, a certain pair of blue orbs burning holes into your back.  

“I honestly just passed out when I got back to my room.” You shrug and Emily hums.  

“Honestly?”  

Your nostrils flare, your eyes narrowed.  

“Honestly.” You repeat and she hums, sending a side eyed glance in Kelley’s direction.  

Meanwhile, towards the back of the bus, Kristie frowns.  

If there was one person, she’d hoped to spend the night with, she’d hoped it was you, but unfortunately, it looked as if it wasn’t the case.  

Thankfully for not only her, but you, the jeering stops roughly as soon as it started, everyone getting lost in their own activities.  

Unfortunately for you however, Emily practically leaps into the empty seat beside you the second she gets, the blonde smirking cockily.  

“Are you SUREEEE, that’s all you remember about last night? Hmmmm?” She whispers, nudging you rapidly and you groan.  

“Come on Y/N, tell us more about your nighttttt.” Kelley slips into the empty seat behind you her hands on her shoulder’s as she shakes you.

You take a deep breath, frowning as you turn towards the two.  

“Can you guys let it go?”  

Kelley and Emily share a glance.

You groan.  

“It wasn’t me.”  

“It was totally you, maybe we should ask Kristie and see-

“NO.” You yell, everyone on the bus turning towards you, your cheeks burning as you clear your throat.  

“Please don’t.” Your voice drops below a whisper, Emily and Kelley again sharing a glance.  

“SO, YOU ARE THE REALLY GOOD ONE NIGHT-STAND!” Emily whisper yells, the blonde wiggling in her seat.  

“But Kristie doesn’t know it was you.”  

Emily strokes her chin.  

“What if we-

“No.” You cut her off, shaking your head rapidly. “Absolutely not.”  

“Why not?” Emily pouts, earning a nudge from the older defender.  

“Matters of the heart don’t involve us, Son.” Kelley smiles, and Emily’s bottom lip juts out even further.  

“Does that mean we have to stop teasing her?” She asks and Kelley grins maliciously.  

“Nope.”  

                                                           ***

Unfortunately for you, the pair spend a fraction of the ride teasing you until they eventually make their ways back to their seats.  

You lean your head against the window, your mind racing.  

What were you supposed to do?  

How exactly were you supposed to tell Kristie that the woman she slept with the night before was indeed, you and that you in fact, had an appendage between your legs that most didn’t have?

You frown, smacking your head against the window, again, purposely.  

You weren’t sure how, but you had to tell her, you had no other choice, especially considering you weren’t the only one who knew, and Kelley and Emily weren’t able to keep a secret to save their lives.  

You run a hand down your face, thoughts of the night previous running through your mind as you attempt to grasp onto anything that might make you remember what happened the night before.  

You inhale sharply, your eyes widening when the base of the appendage between your legs begins to tingle.  

You roll your eyes.  

“Well, one of us remembers what happened last night.” You grumble, swallowing hard when you remember what it was like, sliding inside her tight-

“Alright, we’re here.”  

“Oh, thank fuck.” You yell, grabbing your bag and sprinting off the bus nearly bulldozing over Vlatko, everyone watching you go with wide eyes.

“What was that about?” Sam snorts, Kristie’s eye narrowed as she watches you sprint into the stadium.  

“No clue.”

                                                           ***

You knew you were playing poorly, something that became more apparent when Vlatko subbed you off roughly a few minutes into the second half of the game.  

You make your way towards the sidelines, head hung in shame, only lifting your head when someone’s hand settles on your back, your eyes widening when they lock with Kristie’s blue orbs.  

She gives you a tiny smile, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze before jogging out onto the field, taking your place.  

You toe the line, turning to watch the blonde, a small smile on your face as you watch her sprint down field.  

“Things don’t have to change between you, you know?”  

You stiffen, turning in the direction of Kelley, the woman smiling as she pats the bench beside her.  

You shake your head, reluctantly taking the seat beside her, sighing.  

“But they already have.”  

Kelley shakes her head.  

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.” She whispers and you swallow hard, attempting to swallow the growing lump in your throat.  

“And I may have just ruined any chance I had with her.”  

Kelley frowns.  

“Why do you say that?” She asks and you frown, mulling over your words for a moment before you speak.  

“She knows something about me now, something I’d rather not anyone know, and that something may have just ruined everything.”  

Kelley hums, though she, surprisingly, doesn’t pry, the defender leaning against you.  

“If she cares for you, whatever it is she knows shouldn’t change that.”  

You swallow hard, glancing down at the slight bulge in your shorts and you immediately shift, hiding it from view.  

“I don’t know Kel, but I sure hope you’re right.” You say as you lean against her, the defender scoffing.  

“I’m always right.”

                                                           ***

You kept your head down after that, unable to look really anyone in the eye.  

It was only when the entire locker room had emptied out that you’d picked up your head.  

“Are you okay??”  

You stiffen, your eyes widening when you realize it was in fact Kristie Mewis standing behind you.  

You turn on your heels, swallowing hard as you shuffle nervously on your feet.  

“Y/N, what’s-

“I-I-It looks good on you.” You stutter, the blonde’s brows furrowing.  

“What does?” She asks, her eyes widening when you nod your head, nodding to the old NYU sweater clinging to her, a sweater that belonged to you, a sweater she hadn’t meant to grab that morning or before she’d gotten on the bus.  

Kristie’s eyes double in size, her mouth agape as she looks from you, to the sweater and back, her cheeks growing redder by the second.  

“It was--It was you?” She whispers softly, your eyes downcast as you nod your head, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.  

“B-But you have-

“Are you guys coming?” Sam asks, her head poking into the locker room.  

You clear your throat.  

“Ye-Yeah, we’re coming.”  

Your eyes lock with Kristie’s, the woman’s tongue swiping at her lips, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to find her words, words that go unheard by you as you turn on your heels and march out of the locker room, leaving the two Mewis sisters behind.  

“What was that about?” Sam asks, blue orbs narrowed as they dart from the door you just exited, to Kristie, the blonde’s cheeks pink.  

“It’s nothing.”  

Before Sam can ask anything further, Kristie has followed your lead, marching out of the locker room and towards the bus.  

The blonde tried everything she could to catch your gaze, but to no avail, considering your face was literally squished to the bus’s window.  

She flops down in her empty seat with a sigh, the woman’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head.  

You swallow hard, wondering if telling her so blatantly had been a mistake.  

                                                           ***

Before Kristie can even move to her feet, you’re off the bus, sprinting into the hotel and out of sight, the blonde frowning sadly.  

“Are you sure something isn’t going on?” Sam asks, earning a shake of the head from her sister.  

“No, nothing’s going on.” She says nonchalantly, her heart racing in her chest as she tries to remember the night previous, the woman only able to recollect a number of lewd scenes, things that make her core ache.  

She clears her throat, hastily grabbing her bag and following behind you in the hopes that she’d catch you before you entered the elevators, unfortunately, she’s unsuccessful, the blonde sighing in defeat.  

Meanwhile, upstairs you’ve slammed your hotel room’s door shut behind you, tears in your eyes as you slide down it, your back pressed against its wood surface.  

You tremble, unable to control the shaking in your hands as you recount what had happened in the locker room, the look on her face when you’d told her it was in fact you, she’d spent the night with the night previous.  

You let out a sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as you wrap your arms around your legs, pulling them to your chest.  

Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the door, Kristie frowns, her heart torn into literal pieces when she hears your cries.  

She takes a seat in front of the door, leaning back heavily against it, the woman currently crying on the other side of the door unaware of her presence.  

Eventually, your cries taper off, your hands running down your face as you move to your feet, slinking towards the bed, content with falling in it and not leaving for the remainder of the day, that is, until a knock sounds on your hotel room’s door. 

You close your eyes knowing all too well who was on the other side of the door.  

Slowly, you make your way towards her, nodding to yourself before pulling it open to reveal Kristie Mewis, the blonde simply staring at you before you step to the side, allowing her inside.  

You swallow, the door still ajar, its knob still in your hand.  

Once you’d closed it, you knew there was no going back, in reality, there was no going back at all, you just deluded yourself to the fact that there was and you indeed had control over it, when you realized you didn’t you gave the door a push, closing it softly.  

You stare at your feet before reluctantly moving further into the room, making your way towards the window, bypassing the blonde perched on the end of your bed, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you wait for her to say something, anything to fill the tense silence.  

“How long did you know?” She asks and you clear your throat.  

“When you got on the bus, you were in my NYU hoodie.”  

Kristie glances downward, smiling softly as she caresses the faded material between her thumbs and index fingers.  

She moves to her feet, the sound making you tense, your throat bobbing as you attempt to swallow.  

Your breath hitches when she places a hand on your back, her touch gentle, and soothing.  

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before your lips part.  

“I’m intersex.” You mutter, your bottom lip trembling slightly as the words you’d held in for so long escape your mouth, words you never thought you’d have to say. 

Behind you, Kristie nods, the woman taking your hand before giving your arm a tug, thus, turning you around, your watery Y/E/C’s locking with her shining blues. 

Your eyes double in size when she cups your cheeks, swiping tears away that you hadn’t realized had begun to fall.  

Her arms slip around your neck, the blonde pulling you in.  

She’d never seen you so vulnerable, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hid your face in her neck, unwilling to let the universe see you break down.

“Shhhh.” She coos her hands running up and down your back as you sniffle.

She turns her head, whispering in your ear.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you.” She whispers and you stiffen, pulling back so you can look her in the eye.

“How can it not? I mean I’m a fre-

Kristie places a fingertip to your pursed lips, effectively silencing you.

“Don’t ever call yourself that, it’s not true.”  

When she gently cups your cheek, you close your eyes.

Moments later your eyes flutter open, a question perched on the tip of your tongue.

“And how is it that you feel about me?” You whisper, your voice so soft she has to strain her ears to hear it.

Her eyes search your face before she takes a deep breath, nodding to herself before closing the distance between you, her lips pressing tenderly against yours.

She abruptly pulls back when she realizes your lips aren’t moving, your face frozen in a shocked expression. 

“I’m sorry. I-I thought—

She stops mid-sentence when you delicately cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her flushed skin before you lean in, the distance between you fading away when your lips meet hers.

Her hands find purchase on your waist, the two of you parting only to lean back in, your lips meeting again and again.  

You reluctantly part, neither going far as you lean your foreheads against one another.

She bumps her nose playfully against yours, and despite the fact that she now knows your secret, you can’t help but smile.  

“Does that tell you how I feel about you?” She whispers and you nod, leaning your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.  

“It does.”  

You pull back, swallowing hard.  

“But what about my—"

Kristie again presses her index finger to your lips.  

“Like I said, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” She smiles, replacing her finger with her lips.  

You smile into the kiss, giving her waist a squeeze.  

A cocky smirk stretches across your face.  

“Was I really that good last night?” You tease and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushing.  

Your smirk splits into a cocky grin.

“I was, wasn’t I?”

“Shut up.”  

[redrobin-detective]

exile

Maddie Fenton woke up on the worst day of her life with a headache. That wasn’t at all unusual, Jack’s snoring could be grating even when asleep. Combined with too many late nights in the lab, too much coffee and just general stress about her work and her kids... it seemed Maddie woke up with a headache more often then not. Jack was the early riser of the two of them so he was already awake and likely starting work in the lab. He’d knock on the kids’ doors to get them up but Danny always needed a special touch, or an aggressive shove, to get up. 

Maddie got up and dressed and made her way downstairs, Jazz’s room was cracked and she heard her daughter bustling inside. Danny’s was still shut tight. She knocked forcefully on the door. “Danny honey, it’s 6:30, you need to start getting ready for school.” She got no answer but she didn’t always get one. She had a feeling it was going to be one of those mornings. Setting downstairs, she’d just started the coffee machine when the phone rang.

“Now who is calling at this hour?” Maddie asked herself, picking up the phone. “FentonWorks, this is Maddie Fen-”

“You tell my daughter to come home right this instant!” Pam Manson’s shrill voice came over the phone. Maddie winced and pulled the phone back from her ear. “And you tell her she can kiss that horrible death metal whatever concert she was going to on Saturday goodbye! I will not have my young, impressionable daughter thinking she can tramp around god knows where-”

“Pam, slow down,” Maddie interrupted, irate as always when dealing with the woman. “Sam isn’t here, I didn’t see her at all yesterday or today.” Or Danny, Maddie thought privately with a frown. Pamela’s fury and frustration was understandable in a way. Maddie also had no idea what her own child was up to most days. 

“She’s not there?” Pam said quietly after a few moments of silence. “Are you sure?” She added a bit more frantically. “Because she’s not in her bedroom and her bed looks like she never slept in it. She’s not answering her phone but she sometimes doesn’t when she’s sees it’s-” Pam took a deep steadying breath. “Can you check and make certain she’s not there? I’m going to call Angela.” Pam hung up suddenly and Maddie pulled back and looked at the phone, biting her lip with nerves. The coffee maker screeching to life behind her startled her so much that she jumped.

“Goodness,” She said, setting the phone down and thinking. She was certain she hadn’t seen Sam. The last time she’d seen her son’s friend was the day before last when she and Tucker had dragged a very exhausted, bruised up Danny home. Took a fall down the stairs, they’d said, not explaining why their clothes were worn and hands scratched up. Frowning, she wandered to the top of the lab steps. “Jack, you haven’t seen Sam around, have you? Danny’s friend?”

“Sam?” She heard Jack shout back, he poked his head around the corner. “No, did she stay the night? By the way, did you move some of the weapons. I can’t seem to find a few of them...” 

“Jack that’s not important right now, Pamela doesn’t know where she is,” Maddie said sharply. She felt a little bad watching as Jack’s face become pensive but she was too anxious herself to apologize. She turned and walked towards the upstairs steps. “I’m going to ask Danny.” 

She can’t deny that a subtle little thrill went through her when she got onto the second floor landing and saw Danny’s door open. The sink was running in the bathroom and she knocked heartily on the door. “Daniel Fenton, Mrs. Manson can’t find her daughter and if I find you had her over without telling anyone you are going to be in so much-” 

The door opened revealing Jazz with her eyes wide and a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. “Waz goin on?” she asked around the brush. She took out the brush and spit out into the sink. “I poked my head into Danny’s room to wake him up but he wasn’t in there.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “they can’t find Sam?”

Feeling lightheaded, Maddie walked down the hall to Danny’s room to find no one there. She can’t put her finger on why but it didn’t just feel empty but vacant. Danny’s clothes weren’t on the floor, his desk was practically clear for the first time since they bought it. His bed was made just as she’d done it the morning before when she’d rousted her son. Distantly, she heard the phone ringing again but Maddie couldn’t bring herself to leave the deserted room. 

Danny had several photos on his wall and desk, she couldn’t help but notice that two were missing. A framed photo of the entire Fenton family they’d taken last year for New Years and a particularly nice shot of Danny with his friends Jazz had snapped. They say in a crime scene, something is always taken and left behind. But why... The sound of footsteps approached her rapidly from behind.

“Mom,” Jazz with a small fearful little tone. She was holding the house phone in one hand and her cell in the other, Danny’s contact information open on her screen. It was just ringing through. “It’s Mrs. Manson, not only is Sam not at Tucker’s but... the Foleys can’t find him either. I... I told them we don’t know where Danny is at the moment. I’m trying to call but its just ringing and ringing...”

“Jasmine, calm down,” Maddie said, taking the phone away from her. “Keep trying his cell and go get your father. Pam, are you still there?” Maddie said speaking into the phone. She was met with tears on the other end.

“Where are they? How could this happen? Sammy... she has a sizable trust and could be a target for ransom but your boy and Tucker? It doesn’t make sense.” Pamela paused to take a few loud, sobbing breaths that pounded at Maddie’s headache like a jackhammer. “Unless they ran away but why? Samantha’s always been spirited but nothing like this... God, I need to call the police, we’ll be in touch.” She clicked off without another word.

“-swer your phone, please little brother. Please, I know. Know-know, I was waiting for you to come to me but now we can’t find you, Sam or Tucker and everyone’s freaking out and we just need to know that you’re all okay.” She heard Jazz speak quickly into her cell, curling in on it like she used to do with her old stuffed animals. Jack’s hands gripping her shoulders from behind, taking in the abandoned room just like she’d been.

“Mads,” Jack whispered, “where’d he go?”

Maddie would ask herself that same question in the coming days, weeks, months and years that would pass. Over the course of front page headlines and tv spots begging for information. When they found a large amount had been transferred out of Sam’s trust, when Tucker’s phone and computer was found broken in two near the dump by the interstate, when their weapons catalogue came up short. As more time passed, it became increasingly obviously the kids not only had left of their own volition but it had been a calculated, planned affair. 

Maddie would lie awake late into the night and wonder where it all went wrong? What had she, or any of the grieving parents, done to warrant their children to up and leave in the middle of the night. Something had happened, something that had been under their noses, something they’d missed. And they were now paying for it.

Back in the present moment, with her husband’s warm hands on her shoulders, her daughter’s increasingly more frantic voice talking into Danny’s phone that just kept ringing and her headache pounding worse than ever, all she could do was moan. “I don’t know, they’re just gone.”

The worst day of her life was just getting started and was going to continue for a long, long while.

[ateezgf]

i took ss so it wld be easier on me to go through and block ppl and like,, there was so much hypocrisy 😭 someone started their tags w "some of yall need actual help" and then went on to say they feel like punching skz minho everytime they see him; one of the ppl who said jongho "screeches" stans beets,,,; "that eunwoo guy cant act" made me laugh bc iirc hes considered to be one of the best idol actors..

yk what all of them sound like the twt stans who actively hate on and suddenly become expert vocal or dance coaches or wtv to "criticize" (hate on) idols they dont like instead of focusing on the ones they do like ,,, how embarrassing 😭

but yeah all in all its just. a vile post and its a good way to show how many kpoppies dont see idols as people.

RIGHT like how can you say people need help and shouldnt act that way and then go ahead and say the same thing 😭 like it isnt even equivalent to when people are like "oh theyre so cute i just wanna smush his cheeks" or whatever like .. it isnt even the same train of thought. it's also definitely the same people who preach on and on about how "idols (their faves) are humans too!!" & "mental health matters!!" but turn around and laugh at other idol's mental health and wish poor things on them or even their families 😐

when it comes to ateez, i just think it's so funny when people try to discredit them as if well-known and respected names (lia kim, psy, rain, etc.) haven't praised them for being a refreshing image on what a performer is in kpop. people calling them nobodies as if they didnt just sell out two tours? they even sold out a world tour 3 months after debut like sorry but i'll take a professional performer and the korean govt.'s word over samantha from michigan who's angry posting because she doesnt like the way they dance/sing.

honestly like the one good thing that came from that post was giving a list of people i dont want to talk to if they think disliking someone is free pass to harm them.

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

HB: WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE SO MANY SONGS IN THIS EPISODE

I'm gonna talk abt this once I finish the episode, get some soup in my system, draw, cope, rewind and regret my choices.

Update: FUCK I didn't read the title its a musical lmfao

[world-of-aus]

The compound (teaser)

A little teaser written for a submitted gif by my one and only favorite stove @fandom-basurero

Enjoy!

“Samantha, not that way, you need to stay on the sidewalk babe,” you groaned watching as your stumbling friend nearly ran herself into the bushes, your hand catching her around her bicep just in time to keep her from face planting the greenery.

“Why did I agree to be the designated driver again,” you grumbled under your breath as you pulled your friend close, your other hand wrapping around the other stumbling drunk to your right.

You moved the two girls forward to keep up with the other girls who clung to one another as they stumbled down the sidewalk their high-pitched squeals piercing your ears as you herded the buzzed bridal party down the busy sidewalk, their excitement growing as you drew closer to the upscale establishment that the bride had chosen to end the night.

Samantha leaned heavily into you, clinging to your side, “y-you think I-I'll be able to – be able to stick a dollar in there briefs, I'd really like to stick a dollar in their briefs!”

Though your lips were spread thin, your lips upturned a bit at your friends' question, “I have no doubt that they will take your money Sam, now c’mon lets get you guys inside, and maybe get some water in you.”

Though you nearly lost your cool more than once you had managed to get the girls through the grand brass doors of “the compound” a low heavy bass hitting you as you crossed the threshold.

The entrance was dark; a dimly red glow barely illuminating the area as you pushed the girls forward.

You made it only a few feet before a dressed to the nines man stopped you, “reservation for y/l/n?”

You raised your hand from the middle of the group, “that would be us,” you called out from the buzz of the group.

“Excellent,” he grinned, “right this way ladies, we’ve managed to get you the best spot in the house, it definitely won’t disappoint,” he smirked, as he turned on his heel the group stumbling after him giddily.

You wrangled Samantha closer as you followed behind the group, eyes watchful of their backs and feet as you were drawn further into the red glow.

You held back the gasp as the space opened up before you, rounded booths and tables were scattered through the place, with single black metal poles placed meticulously around the seating areas. There was not one table that wasn’t filled to the brim with women. From end to end the entirety of the seat was taken by girls eagerly awaiting the main act.

That’s not what caught your eye though, what caught your eye was the sleek black stage, lined with the lights that radiated the same red glow that filled the room that had you in a trance.

“The compound” really knew how to draw the eye to the main event.

“Here you are ladies, the best seat in the house, and should you need anything, don’t be afraid to call for me, the names Tony, Tony Stark, and welcome to the compound.”

The man was gliding away a second later, weaving his way through the tables leaving you and your group to settle into the rounded booth. Trying to squish a group of women who were thrumming with excitement to see half-dressed men become further undressed had proven to be quite the task, and though half your ass cheek was hanging out of the booth as long as the party was sitting and not stumbling around the area you couldn’t have asked for more.

The thing about your particular group of friends is once the drinks had started flowing, they had no intention of stopping, and with the celebration of your soon to be wedded friend, well there was no better occasion, then to drink themselves drunk.

They had whined till even the low bass pounding through the club could no longer be heard by your ears and while you liked to believe your patience could never run thin with them, you had never waved a waitress down quicker than you had at that moment, needing to silence the alcohol induced whines spewing from your friends' lips.

The redhead that had stopped by your table handled your group with grace, offering to throw in a free drink for you, even though you had waved her off, “I’m the designated driver for tonight,” you had answered, to which she replied, “one drink isn’t going to incapacitate you babe, this ones on me.”

There hadn’t been any room for argument as the lights dimmed further, the heavy bass coming to a stop, and a chorus of screams from the rows around you erupting through the room.

“good evening,” a voice purred through the speakers, “and welcome to the hottest night of your life.”

You internally grimaced as the screams grew, your party now partaking in the screeching, that filled the finer establishment, “we have a special treat for all you gorgeous ladies out here tonight,” the voice continued, “we’re bringing out an old class act, a timely favorite if you will,” the screams grew, “you all know the one don’t you?”

No, you didn’t, and you weren’t sure you wanted to.

“Put your hands, and your bills together for the ‘Howling Commandos!’

The screams ceased to the minimal, as the lights completely went out, your brows furrowed, eyes squinted at the stage as you struggled to make out forms that spilled out from the curtain.

It was a breath later, and the lights snapped on, that your breath caught in your throat, the screams now deafening, as the men in uniform stalked forward.

Your eyes scanned each man, but ultimately landed on the blonde, bright eyed man in the middle, “holy shit.”

“holy shit, is right,” the redhead laughed, as she deposited your drink in your hand, “I would’t recommend placing that on the table,” she advised, “the captain and his soldier, frequent this table often, wouldn’t want them spilling it all over you, though if you wouldn’t mind their hands cleaning you up then -” she shrugged offering you a wink before she was moving off to another screaming booth.

Your eyes drift back to the main stage, the mens faces hard and defined as they look over the crowd, it should have been the man in the middles eyes finding yours that had you reeling, but it was the wink he threw before the lights dimmed.

[lesbianlotties]

five times Deena and Sam met in secret (and one time they didn’t) - Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/6 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, High School, Cheerleaders, Band, Teenagers, Teen Romance, First Meetings, First Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst

Secrets.

Deena and Sam met by accident. They fell in love in secret.

But how long can they last together like that?

Chapter 5 - secret heartbreak:

The following weeks were a real rollercoaster for Deena and Sam. When they were up, dizzy with love, on top of the world, they were blind to the dangers ahead of them. When they were down, a thin line away from rock-bottom, in moods so dark they could barely find each other, no matter how hard they craned their necks they couldn’t catch sight of what it was like when they were up in the clouds. Objectively, they were kids living under genuinely difficult circumstances already, and the fact that they loved each other tragically turned out to bring on more obstacles. However, if anybody dared to even hint at the fact they were possibly acting as traditionally dramatic teenagers in love… that person was aggressively ignored. If in a couple of months the two girls would find themselves involved in much more dangerous, seemingly inexplicable, deadly situations, well, they had no way of knowing that. At the time, every moment they spent together, the good and the bad, felt like a life or death situation.

Of course, there were still good moments. Those memories would last them a lifetime. Those moments would inspire them to fight back against evil forces beyond their imagination. Those memories would warm them in the cold and lonely nights they’d have to spend separately. There were big, unforgettable nights. The two of them going to a party with Kate and Simon, just so the four of them could end up ditching the party and driving Deena’s car around Shadyside in the middle of the night, music blasting from the speakers, the four of them signing at the top of their lungs, at one point breaking one of the car’s windows. Then there were a hundred simple experiences, nearly identical, but all unique and magical on their own. Three girls stopping by the Grab n´ Bag when Simon was working to cheer him up, hanging around the store as if it was a second home, making a mess and helping him clean up, laughing the entire time. Movie nights in the Johnson’s house, Kate spilling her drink during a scary movie picked by Sam, Josh adorably flustered while trying to help her, Simon waking up the next day with marker scrawls on his face, Deena and Sam sneaking away from them for some time for themselves with little to no shame in their smiling faces. Skipping classes together, bus drives to football games, hanging out at the mall, a perfect hundred years.

Looking back, in their separate houses, Deena and Sam would one day feel it was almost infuriating how perfectly Sam used to fit in with them, all of them.

Because she quickly became Kate’s right-hand woman on the cheerleading team. Kate’s commanding frown was always accompanied by a soft “she’s right” from Sam, a combination that could convince anybody of anything to the point the team looked like a small mafia of blue skirts and perfect ponytails. Kate’s razor-sharp wit was surprisingly matched by soft-spoken Sam with quiet, clever, and perfectly timed comments. The two girls used to go shopping together while waiting for Deena and Simon to get out of detention, they would be the ones in charge of cooking on the rare occasion the group chose to prepare something at home instead of ordering pizza. Deena found out only months later that Sam had approached cheer captain Kate and blushed vehemently asking her about Deena. Sam had always been too scared to call Kate her best friend, knowing Deena would always be Kate’s favorite, but that didn’t make it any less true. Kate joked so many times about how Sam “could do so much better than Deena'', not knowing Sam believed it was the entire opposite. Neither of them even suspected that in a matter of weeks Kate would be comforting a heartbroken Deena and furiously taking her side.

Then there was Simon. Walking away from him hurt Sam almost as much as leaving Deena. Simon had been the first one to call her Sam, the best at cheering her up, the one to encourage her to express every part of her that could be considered out of the norm. Sam used to be the one to paint Simon’s nails, he would be painfully slow attending Sam’s mom at the store just to annoy her and amuse Sam. He would be the one to go with her to the movies to rewatch for the third time her latest favorite horror movie, and she was the only of the girls who didn’t fight back his brotherly affection of bear hugs and occasionally picking her up. Deena had no idea that Simon had gotten the number of Sam’s house in Sunnyvale. He called her twice a week, every two weeks, once a month, and then never again. Sam deeply regretted not calling him her best more often, and she still kept the black nail polish that she didn’t even use.

Every loss that Sam was going to experience upon leaving Shadyside hurt a different way. Josh wasn’t the exception. Because Sam was an only child. She felt like she hadn't known the meaning of family until she found herself eating pizza in the Johnson’s basement with Deena, Josh, Kate, and Simon. Josh didn’t feel like a little brother to her, not exactly, but he inevitably became something very similar. Just as she knew that she couldn’t be a sister to him, not exactly, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t know she’d been a good friend to him. They could relate to each other. They were both introverted, guarded, still keeping their interest safely to themselves and the best parts of who they were hidden behind brick walls. But Sam felt more like herself whenever she was in that house, where she had received nothing but kindness and open arms. The least she could do was return the favor. The least she could do was smile and cheerfully greet him every time they crossed paths, regardless of his apparent fear of cheerleaders. She could ask about his day, about the latest videogame she didn’t really understand, about his current favorite record, listen to his rants on conspiracy theories even if Deena was rolling her eyes and trying to pull her away toward her room. Sam liked to think that if she’d known her absence would actually take a toll on him, that he’d retreat further into himself, no longer talk about his real interests to anybody in person anymore, end up resenting her and Deena as one, maybe she would’ve done things differently. 

Something. 

Anything.

She would’ve done everything differently if she’d known Kate would hate her, Simon would forget her, Josh would blame her, and Deena…

Deena.

Goddammit, weren’t there good moments with Deena? More than enough to make up for the bad ones? Why should Sam have to give up all that? Skipping class to run away with Deena, eating cheeseburgers in the hood of her car, helping her clean up her house to ease that weight from her shoulders, fall asleep in her arms, wake up with Deena’s head on her chest, stealing her girlfriend’s jacket, laughing with her, kissing her, dancing with her, talking for hours, counting her freckles, just the pleasure of seeing her smile… Who really cared about the bad stuff? Maybe Deena was wrong in pressuring her to come out, and maybe it was true that Sam refused to even talk about the future. So what if Deena’s negativity could be too much at times, so what if Sam’s idea of “better” was other people's thoughts and not her own. But what if it really could hurt when Deena’s temperament got the worst of her, and Sam went out of her way to outmatch her? Maybe they actually cared and suffered because of Deena misdirecting her anger at the world toward her vulnerable girlfriend, and Sam resenting Deena for issues that only Sam could solve but wouldn’t.

In the end, it hardly mattered if they knew that they were worth the fight. They didn’t find in time the motivation to fight against their problems, not even the ones they could have solved. Because if they would’ve just taken a step back they could have seen. The people around them, the ones that truly loved them, had been right when they suggested these were common struggles with teenagers handling feelings bigger than themselves. They could have seen most of their issues weren’t so severe, they were things they could have easily worked on. They had been so close to make it, they were meant to get better and get over those obstacles. And someday, they would. But first, they had to face the chapter in their lives when Deena got tired of being a secret and Sam had one last secret that would change everything.

--

On the last day, Deena drove as fast as she could to their high school. Her car’s tires screeched on the pavement as she parked hastily, and she was out of the car in the blink of an eye. She practically ran all the way to their spot under the bleachers to find Sam. She was waiting for her right on the spot where they met, arms wrapped around herself and eyes swollen red.

“Sam,” Deena whispered her name as soon as she was close enough and after a couple more steps, she threw her arms around her girlfriend. Sam was nearly thrown off balance, she was so dejected she barely reacted. “Tell me it isn’t true,” Deena begged through gritted teeth. “Sam,” she called her name more desperately now. “Talk to me, please. It’s me.”

That seemed to be enough to break the spell of sorrow that had fallen over Sam. All at once, the blonde wrapped her arms around Deena, grabbing fistfuls of the familiar green jacket and holding on tightly, she started sobbing, she pressed her face against Deena’s shoulder, and her entire body trembled as she cried.

“Don’t go,” Deena choked, holding the girl she loved as tight as she could. “You don’t have to go, Sam,” Deena breathed out. She was trying harder than ever to keep her cool. She bit her bottom lip hard, to avoid crying. “Please, don’t leave me,” Deena said, finally breaking down and starting to cry, “I love you.”

Deena’s heart and mind were racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. The divorce was done. Sam’s mother was moving to Sunnyvale, and taking her daughter with her. Sam was moving away. Not to a neighboring town, to an enemy town. Not a few minutes away, but a poisoned ocean away. She was leaving Deena, she was leaving her behind, and that was the loudest thought resonating in the brunette’s mind.

For a while, all they could do was hold each other. Eventually, Sam’s sobs subsided, their tears stopped coming, and their breathing evened out, so their hearts were once again beating in unison. Sam eased her hold on Deena and pulled away just enough to rest their foreheads together. She looked at the pair of eyes that had become her one true home, and she said, “I love you too, you know?”

Deena gave her a watery smile and moved her hand to delicately wipe away the tears that fell on Sam’s cheeks. “Why are you making it sound like a goodbye?” she wondered. As her only response, Sam closed her eyes, but continued to hold her. “When do you leave, Sam?” was Deena’s next question, but again, she only received silence in response. She saw no option but to pull back so she could properly look at Sam, and she repeated her question. “When do you leave, Sam?”

The blonde nearly started trembling again, but she didn’t cry. She took a deep breath, opened her watery blue eyes, and looked at Deena as she replied, “Next week.”

“Are you serious?” Deena flinched. That was a genuine question, and when the other girl nodded, she frowned. “And you’re only telling me now?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, looking down again.

“Sam, that’s fucked up,” Deena seethed. Her arms fell from her girlfriend’s frame as she took a step back. Sam reached out just in time so at least their hands would stay linked.

“I didn’t,” Sam sniffled, “want to do this.”

“Do what?” Deena tilted her head. “Break up with me?”

“Don’t do this,” Sam closed her eyes again, tightly.

“Oh, excuse me for being shocked at the fact that my fucking girlfriend tells me she’s moving away one day before leaving!”

“It’s not one day, it’s one week!” Sam protested. “This is exactly what I was avoiding.”

Deena let go of Sam’s hands then. She took a step back, but she bit her tongue to keep her next accusation from spilling out. “I’m sorry,” she finally grumbled.

Sam looked at her with a small spark of hope in her eyes. “Me too. Really.”

There was a pause in their conversation. Sam couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if she’d tried. Deena was clenching her jaw and looking at the ground. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants and when she trusted her voice to be sufficiently steady, she said. “Sunnyvale, Sam? Really?”

The blonde let out a sad chuckle. “My mom’s choice. But… you know…”

Her words made Deena frown. “Know what?” She inquired. “Know what, Sam?”

In response, Sam scoffed. “Nothing,” she shook her head, “Nothing. I just, uh, have to go.” She shrugged, and looked away.

“Holy shit,” Deena breathed out, as something important clicked in her mind. “You actually want to go…”

“I don’t. My mom’s making me go.”

“Bullshit,” Deena snapped. “One, you hate your mom. Two, you’re lying to me right now, Sam.”

“She’s my mom, Deena.”

“You also have a dad,” Deena pointed out.

The comment made Sam roll her eyes. “You know my dad’s not doing much better than yours.”

“Don’t fucking get my dad involved in this.”

“Fine,” it was Sam’s turn to snap. “I’m just saying, it might not be such a bad thing.”

“Not a bad thing?!” Deena laughed darkly. “Babe, you’re moving to Sunnyvale. That goes against everything you are.”

“You don’t know that,” Sam’s frown deepened.

Once again, Deena exhaled a bitter laugh. “Oh, this again?”

“What?”

Sam had taken a step closer, and Deena imitated her, not even realizing when they had moved so far away from each other in the first place. “You think you can move to Sunnyvale and it’ll fix all your problems, huh?” Deena willed herself to smile through the pain she was feeling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I’m right,” Deena continued to smirk, even if her heart broke repeatedly watching Sam’s eyes fill with tears again. “You think that if you follow your mom blindly to Sunnyvale she will suddenly like you? Is that it? You think that you can change your house, the color of your cheer uniform, and it’ll change what’s inside you? Take away all your problems?”

“Deena, stop,” Sam attempted to put an end to the attack, her voice shaking.

“Tell me, Sam,” Deena continued, ruthless, “does she know you came here to break up with me? Or is that a secret too?”

“I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Might as well do it.”

“Deena.”

At that point, both girls shut up. They were hit by the realization of what Deena had just said, what she had hinted at, not very delicately. Deena was horrified by her own words, but Sam was only getting angrier.

She took a deep, steadying breath and said, “Deena, if you really loved me you’d want what’s best for me.”

“How is this good for you?!” Deena hissed. “It’s a lie!”

“It’s an improvement.”

Another bitter chuckle from Deena came. “Nice.” As conflicted as she felt, she couldn’t take her eyes off Sam. The blonde girl was visibly furious, standing painfully straight, her hands tightened into fists, taking deep breaths to hold on to her anger. But she looked beautiful. And Deena knew her, and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on for longer, and knew, too, that part of her needed Sam to break too.

“In Sunnyvale, there’s hope, Deena,” Sam explained slowly through gritted teeth, “I could have a better future there.”

“A future without me,” Deena added. All at once, without even her expecting it, her voice took a sad and resigned tone, instead of the blazing anger from before.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you’ll have.”

“It doesn’t have to be!” Sam’s voice was trembling worse than before, “Deena… I still love you.”

Deena roughly wiped tears off her cheeks and clenched her jaw. “Well, that’s inconvenient for you,” she said, “You’re a Sunnyvaler now, aren’t you?”

“Deena!” Sam yelled. She covered her face with her hands.

“How could you not tell me, Sam?!” Deena yelled too. And she got exactly what she had been waiting for.

“I was avoiding this!” Sam replied, face flushed with rage. “I knew you would freak out, I knew you wouldn't understand, I knew you would blame me!”

“What?” Deena breathed out.

“Deena! Look around you!” Sam continued to yell, moving her arms around her now. “Your life is a mess, and you want to keep it that way! You are way too damn comfortable at your rock bottom you refuse to see any other option. Even worse, you want to drag me down with you! You drag everyone down with you, Deena. Your chaos, your anger, your hate. It doesn’t help you, it doesn’t help anybody, and it’ll get you nowhere! And I’m tired of that!”

There was a tear falling over Deena’s cheek, and her lips were parted in surprise, but an incredulous smile was tugging at her lips. She was trembling as much as Sam, they were both breathing heavily, and they hadn’t felt pain like that ever before.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Deena whispered.

“No…” Sam weakly shook her head, but she couldn’t meet Deena’s eyes as she replied.

That earned the worst laugh from Deena so far. Sam took a couple of steps forward. But when she reached out for Deena, the brunette flinched away. That was one of the worst parts for Sam, because it made her feel like there was really no turning back from this now.

“It’s not the end of the world, you know?” Sam sniffled, looking as sad as she ever did, but trying her hardest to hold on to her anger. “I’m only thirty minutes away.”

Deena thought about it for a moment, she was looking down, lightly kicking the ground with the tip of her boot.

“Hey, if I’m not worth staying for, then you’re not chasing. Are you, Sam?”

Sam pretty much gasped when she heard those words. In the blink of an eye, Deena pictured what would happen if Sam burst into tears again and she wouldn’t be able to not reach out and comfort her, so they would cry together, and kiss, and make up, and solve it all. But, of course, that wasn’t what happened. Because Deena had hurt Sam just as badly. 

In the end, Sam only frowned, gritted her teeth, and yelled, “Fine!”

Which, Deena thought, was sort of okay. Because as she started walking away, if she was being honest with herself, this was the only way this could have ended up like. “Have fun living your fake ass life, Sam,” she said, before turning away completely and slowly walking toward her badly parked car.

“Deena!” Sam called out her name one last time.

Sam was frozen and crying in the spot where Deena left her, while Deena drove away heartbroken in the cursed town where Sam left her.

[romeomahbromeo]

guys i’m back on my bullshit

thoughts on rewatching the les mis movie

⁃ wow they really messed up the musical timeline

⁃ stop changing the fUCKING LYRICS

⁃ jackman is... ok, but still. valjean ought to be DILFier. buff, with white hair

⁃ javert looks like a beauxbatons reject. where’s the ponytail. where’s the sideburns. this isn’t a wolf, this is a guy who read warrior cats once and now identifies with one of them (idk i haven’t read the books since elementary school)

⁃ the seggsual tenshun between a bastard police officer, his club, and the criminal he’s hunted for 14 years with single-minded homoerotic precision...

(more below the cut duh)

⁃ anne hathaway really is a fantastic fantine, good for her

⁃ got to admit, i’m not a fan of the shaky camera, except for in the riot scenes

⁃ love the aesthetics in this movie, feel less so about the costumes

⁃ ah yes we will have fantine be the only one in pink and with her hair down to signify that she is Innocent ™️

⁃ i’ve always thought this but why didn’t fantine just say that she was a widow like it’s not like anyone could prove it

⁃ i feel like switching Lovely Ladies and I Dreamed A Dream made it more powerful but i still prefer the original order

⁃ like i said, timeline is fuckt

⁃ also some of these accents are just. hard to listen to

⁃ i wish we had a movie of the original french musical

⁃ okay i love the shot of little cosette where they recreate the original poster they did a great job at casting her

⁃ sacha and helena are great but i’m still partial to matt lucas tbh

⁃ hello baby gavroche

⁃ the santa part was not needed, it was uncomfortable for everyone involved

⁃ ok that one guy madame tried to seduce in her verse of Master Of The House is pretty damn attractive

⁃ can you imagine the actress of little eponine on set while they filmed that number

⁃ sHoW mE wHeRe yOu LiVe

⁃ “i’ll be father and mother to you” wow #girlboss AND malewife <3

⁃ no stop idc about an original song give me Grantaire’s verse in Drink With Me

⁃ ah yes #hoistthechild

⁃ glad they brought fauchelevant in, he shoulda been in the musical (besides ya know, the cart)

⁃ heehoo javert singing in a high place no foreshadowing there Oops I Hope I Don’t Fall

⁃ the transition into Paris/Look Down is great but fuckin. STOP MOVING SONGS AROUND. I NEED CHEEKY LITTLE SHIT GAVROCHE TO MAKE FUN OF JAVERT AFTER HIS BIG SERIOUS SONG. IDC IF IT MAKES MORE THEMATIC SENSE. I REALLY DON’T.

⁃ still love gav’s elephant home. and gav.

⁃ god i fuckin love gavroche.

⁃ VIVE LA FRANCE

⁃ FUCK YEAH COURFEY-PIGGYBAC

⁃ *pauses* *deep breath* *screeches* ITS MAH BOIZ

⁃ enjolras is the only blond i’ll ever find attractive

⁃ god samantha barks is just SO pretty. and SUCH a good eponine omfg she’s almost TOO pretty

⁃ joly my bby 🥺

⁃ why they got rid of enj’s classic vest idk

⁃ still mad they made it seem like marius and enjolras were actively friends are you kidding me

⁃ okay but the waterfall chords when marius and cosette make eye contact for the first time 🥺😭

⁃ why does parnasse look Like That 😬

⁃ WHY DOES JAVERT PICK GAVROCHE UP LIKE THAT BAHAHA I FORGOT GHAT HAPPENS

⁃ the thenardiers are supposed to be funny but they just make me so uncomfortable

⁃ why on earth cant i remember pontmercy’s actors name holy shit its not evan, right?? anyways he’s good but i prefer gareth gates personally </3

⁃ OOH THEM FUNKY LITTLE HORNS ITS REVOLUTION TIME

⁃ heLLOOOOO PRETTYBOY (grantaire, obvs)

⁃ literally how dare george blagden be so pretty

⁃ george, internally: “STARE AT AARON. GAY. ACT LIKE YOU’RE IN LOVE BUT NOT IN A WAY THAT HE’LL NOTICE. YOU ARE A 19TH CENTURY BISEXUAL. KEEP IT CHILL, JUST CONTINUALLY GLANCE OVER WITH ABSOLUTE ADORATION IN YOUR EXPRESSION.”

⁃ goddammit marius you slut

⁃ *insert mean girls quote here*

⁃ literally the amount of eyefucking in this scene... get a room. whether you argue or fuck, grantaire will be satisfied either way

⁃ i love the courf+gav friendship in the film but you know i’m a slut for that grantaire+gav friendship in the musical

⁃ a travesty they don’t ever let lesgles be bald </3

⁃ listen. i love amanda seyfried. what a queen. but as cosette she sounds like she swallowed a vibrator. we don’t need that much vibrato girl, it’s okay

⁃ tbh the same goes for a lot of the movie actors in this as opposed to the musical actors

⁃ i’m so sorry but i’m skipping the marisette garden shit i don’t have time for heterosexual bs right now

⁃ i fuckin adore samantha barks did i mention that already

⁃ a queen. you know all the girls in 2012 wanted to be her

⁃ jesus christ it’s been almost 10 years do you think they’ll do a reunion concert

⁃ god i can’t stop thinking about all the behind the scenes from this movie

⁃ hell yes there’s one day more

⁃ cosette “your neighbor is gnc af” marius “you’re insane”

⁃ yes queen bind those breasts. give me gender envy why don’t you

⁃ mmmm enjolras tastey

⁃ stop making javert this important figure he’s just A Guy

⁃ and in that moment, i swear, we all wanted to be Madame Houcheloup

⁃ the flags waved throughout the streets 😀 this will def end well

⁃ tbh i kinda like Do You Hear The People Sing as the start of the revolution

⁃ in 8th grade i would have this scene as a youtube video on repeat while i did my homework

⁃ ok yeah this will never not move me to pieces

⁃ fuckign yeah enj wave that flag

⁃ ooh yuh get it i guess grantaire, drive that coach

⁃ and in that moment, i swear, we were infinite

⁃ pontmercy: *doesn’t know how to hold a gun* also pontmercy: *steals a fuckin horse*

⁃ TO THE BARRICADES

⁃ gEt oFf yOuR aRsE iTs bEgUn yeah mate i was already there driving the fuckin coach i’m just that fast mynameisbarryallenandimthefastestmanalive—

⁃ ah yes the demonic pontmercy smile how i’ve missed that

⁃ WE NEED AS MOCH FORNITURE AS YEW CAN THRO DOWN

⁃ i sincerely wish i could have been there

⁃ HELL YEAH BARRICOW

⁃ AND IN THAT MOMENT, I SWEAR WE ALL WISH WE WERE MADAME HOUCHELOUP

⁃ okay so if gavroche was there to say “fleas will bite” then why didn’t he recognize.l javert right then and there

⁃ GOD THE FIRST SIGHT OF THE BARRICADE 😩👌

⁃ yes daddy enj you can shoot me with your rifle any time 😏🤤😽

⁃ enjoltaire shippers in 2012: “oMg eNjY pRoTeCtEd R fRoM jAvErT tHaT mEaNs he LoVeS HiM bACk 😍😍”

⁃ and they were absolutely right

⁃ no joke aaron tveit could beat me with a pipe and i would be grateful

⁃ “who’s there?” “french revolution!” plz tell me that wasn’t pulled directly for the brick but i feel in my heart of hearts that it was

⁃ the assthetics 😫🤌 the simbalism....

⁃ marius really is dense not only did he not notice the girl in love with him for literally uhhhh years? he also didn’t notice the fuckin rifle two inches from his face

⁃ the lines shouted at marius as he retreats from the gunpowder gambit... initially poetic cinema

⁃ no but boyponine is so gender

⁃ oh man little fall of rain

⁃ i wrote a songfic to this for miraculous ladybug back in freshman year 💀

⁃ oh to be cradled in the arms of the boy i love as i die and also look super hot as i do it

⁃ eponine deserved better but better is not marius

⁃ lol drowned rat enjolras sheds a single manly tear you can’t fool us you fuckin twink

⁃ dammit gavroche hasn’t even died yet but still. get him AWAY from that BARRICADE

⁃ i already know the final battle is gonna end me

⁃ (just like it ended les amis 🤪)

⁃ oh to have a pistol held to my head by george blagden as grantaire

⁃ he really is so pretty

⁃ lol you know valjean’s internal monologue the SECOND he spotted javert at the barricade was just. so much cursing

⁃ lmao enjolras grinning as he shoots the roof dude

⁃ who gave the child a gun dammit

⁃ russell crowe javert singing usually: 😬😐

⁃ russell crowe javert singing while tied up at the barricade with a knife held to him by his long time nemesis: 🥴🤭

⁃ *cries in Drink With Me*

⁃ these boys want to hold out hope but they know there’s no getting out of here

⁃ Where Are The Barricade Ladies

⁃ WHERE IS GRANTAIRE VERSE FOCK U TOM

⁃ *guiltily skips bring him home*

⁃ you know what i was saying earlier about certain characters singing like they have a vibrate stuck in their throat? yeah

⁃ ah that shot that pans out to show that they’re all alone

⁃ gavroche singing won’t save you from dying i fwu tho 🥺

⁃ my little brother loves singing and acting out this song complete with delicate collapsing at the end

⁃ fucking courfeyrac, always gotta make me cry over gavroche more than i mean to

⁃ i have beef with everyone involved

⁃ HADLEY

⁃ combeferre holding back and then comforting courfeyrac 😭😭😭

⁃ let others rise to take our place until the earth is free. god damn. i fuck with that quote too hard.

⁃ CANNONS *queue that one post about the tumblr re-enacting les mis and nearly killing the window cleaner guy when she dramatically opened the windows to scream cannons*

⁃ And In That Moment They Knew. They Were Fucked.

⁃ i don’t need to see any more of my boys die explicitly but i wish we could have had prouvaire’s death scene from the brick, it was really powerful

⁃ THERES MORE MEN

⁃ let them in you HEARTLESS BASTSRDS

⁃ i could do with less time looking at pontmercy’s arse and more time watching the carnage, thanks

⁃ FEUILLY BOSSUET NO

⁃ oh god oh fuck the final four

⁃ *remembers that post i saw where people calculated how long it would have taken for them to die based on bullet angles and that joly and combeferre were both medical and had to watch each other and courfeyrac die and not be able to do anything about it *

⁃ oh god oh fuck permets-tu

⁃ if there’s one instance they could have kept the line from the book it ought to have been this one

⁃ *remembers the post that says that grantaire was not only staggering of drunkenness, but also because he was tripping over the corpses of his friends*

⁃ *remembers hadley is the guard*

⁃ god fukcign. fuck. that orchestral rendition of red & black as exr martyr theirselves for a doomed cause.

⁃ their deaths in the book are so poetic— enj pinned to the wall, crucified by the 8 bullets representing les amis and the cause being worth dying for, while grantaire died at his feet with one bullet representing that enjolras is worth dying for— but something about enjolras dangling out the window, wrapped in the flag... damn

⁃ did you see them, lying side by side...

⁃ *vivid flashbacks to behind the scenes and them singing a jazzy version of On My Own*

⁃ ok that’s enough for now *skips to finale*

⁃ like i love turning and empty chairs but i don’t have the emotional capacity for that rn

⁃ HERE. COMES THE HEAVENLY BARRICADE

⁃ nope i can’t

⁃ i love it too much

⁃ this is the version of DYHTPS that i listened to on repeat during Homework Time for the first several months of quarantine last year

⁃ i have too many feelings about it to put into text

⁃ goddamn i love this show fuck

⁃ *cries*

[echo-three-one]

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick. 

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling. 

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy. 

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

~

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound. 

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence. 

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently. 

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine." 

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past.  The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby,  are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder. 

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John." 

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[occult-castiel]

Leave a message (after the beep!)

Suptober. Day 13: Rewind Dean has a few things to say to Cas. Word count: 2542 [Read on Ao3]

3 Weeks.

Dean's been stealing glances at his phone for over an hour. The dim light of the hall that creeps from under his door is the only reason he can see the thing, blurred out to a barely-there grey hunk of plastic.

The idea is fucking stupid. He doesn't care what Sam thinks. Sam wasn't even supposed to know. Let alone have fucking opinions.

But Dean slipped.

And it took more effort than he will ever admit to walk out of the kitchen without clocking his brother in the goddamn jaw.

Fuck Sam and fuck the phone.

He turns around, away from the stupidest temptation of his life, and demands sleep come.

It's only mildly successful.

2 Month, 1 Week.

Nothing bad can happen from a phone call. Doing it once can’t hurt you any more than you are now

Sam's a well-meaning kid. He really is. But sometimes he just needs to can it.

'Cause he had to go and say some shit like that, completely unprompted — they were talking about potential witch activity in Utah, not Dean's feelings, for Christ's sake — and now it's all Dean can think about now that the distractions of the day have bled into a dark room and cold bed.

And that gray hunk of plastic on his desk is laughing at him. He could reach it if he sat up. Stretched a bit.

But the idea is dumb. And Sam doesn't get it. He really fucking doesn’t.

Except Dean knows he's kind of full of crap.

He grits his teeth, shoves the covers to the side, and grabs his phone.

With each passing buzz, his heart stutters, breath cut into shorter and shorter spurts.

Stupidstupidstupid.

It- it isn't like he's gunna answer. Dean knows he not, but it just rings and rings and —

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

And it hurts.

He calls again every night for the next week. Of course, he never picks up. Sam doesn't ask.

4 Months.

Dean kicks the door after it slams shut. Throws his gun at his headboard, if it goes off and shoots him, oh fucking well. It's great. Just fantastic.

He pulls his phone out without thinking. Clicks Cas.

It rings, and for a moment his shoulders relax as the familiar greeting plays. Cause its Cas' voice. And fuck. Just… fuck.

Then it beeps, and he actually does the one thing he's wanted for months.

"None of your douchebag family will answer me. And I've tried friggin' everything, I swear to Christ."

He runs his hand over his face, glances up at the sour-yellow ceiling.

"How you ever stood them is beyond me dude."

And then, like a rational human being. He hangs up and pretends that whatever that was didn't happen.

Once the bitter taste of angels that don’t pick the fucking phone up from earlier that day fades, Dean stares at the darkened ceiling.

He left a voicemail. A fucking voicemail.

Pathetic.

4 Months, 3 Weeks.

So he hasn't called again since his, uh, slip up. And Sam keeps giving him these little looks. And he knows that Sam knows, and knows he isn't calling because he's a changed man or whatever.

Maybe Sam would drop it, whatever the hell he thinks Dean's mess is, if he could manage to eat.

Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Alex are all around the table with them. Jody's the charmer she always is, talking about how she's grateful for the help and oh, of course you guys are gunna stay for dinner! Ah-ah! No buts.  

There was a hunt in town she tracked down with Claire, a huge vamps nest — we're talking dozens — and called them over for help. And is now feeding them. Because she's a saint and never deserved to be in the know in the first place.

Dean looks at the food. Pork lathered in dark brown graveyard with a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes. There's a pile of carrots on Sam's plate. Dean opted out.

Not that he's eating now. No, mostly just pushing it all around. He does eat in general.

But Claire isn't looking at him. Hasn't. She barely managed a glance up when he saved her — just a small nod and weary glance.

Sam, on the other hand, may as well be ogling.

Dean wishes he could read Sam's mind, find out where he's keeping it so Dean can wallow in misery without his brother being keen on some of the finer details, thank you very much.

He manages a few bites. Its excellent, mouth-watering, home-cooked goodness he's missed fiercely since he got a taste for it the few days Mrs. Butters was around.

But right now? Turns his stomach.

On the way back home, Sam clears his throat. Dean grips the wheel a little tighter.

"So —"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Samantha."

In the corner of his eye, Sam's shoulder slump. His brother looks down and sighs out a sad little noise.

But the rest of the drive is quiet. And that's a win in Dean's book.

*

It's roughly midnight, and books are scattered across the library table. They're all open to different pages, but none of it matters. Not really.

Dean's combing through it all anyway. Has been since Heavens decided they have a no-call policy with anyone named Winchester.

The piles he has laid around him have grown increasingly larger as the weeks have drug on. Spiked exponentially when he decided not to call anymore.

"Hey Dean."

Dean snaps his head up mid-sentence. Sam stands in the threshold, holding a plate. In pajamas.

Dean just looks at him. "What?"

"Made you food." He lifts the plate up a fraction

"That looks like a cold cut, so made is a generous word."

Sam has the audacity to slump into himself, full-on wounded-puppy mode. So Dean rolls his eyes and waves him over.

The plate gets sat down with a distinct clank, and Sam pats his shoulder.

"You know I just… want what's best for you."

Dean tenses his shoulders, closes the book in front of him. He speaks through his teeth.

"Yeah, well I never had it in the first place. And now it is gone, and there's nothing I can do."

"You don't know that Dean."

He glues his eyes to the back of the book. Balls his fists.

"Don't I? That — That fucking thing just —"

"I know. But it's also gone. We don't know what happened."

Dean chooses then to look over, fix his brother with a proper glare so he'll go the hell away — but sees it.

Sitting innocuously on the plate, like it isn't an affront to everything Dean would rather not, is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sam's talking but he can't hear it. His brains turned to mush, a radio-static circus of nothing.

The bottom of his chair screeches as it drags against the floor.

And Dean can’t see.

Sam grabs his arm, he shakes it off. He moves decisively, tries too, but his eyes prickle and he can’t see shit, and he isn’t about to cry right there in front of his brother, validate every stupid thought the guy has that’s probably one-hundred percent right.

His door clicks shut, and he pressed himself against it. Slides down until he hits the icy floor.

Dean's throat is a constricted cage, each breath in has to be muscled in, down, out. Each wobble as much as the last.

Sam doesn't know shit. He doesn’t know what he's talking about. He really doesn't.

Calling someone who can’t answer, won’t ever answer, is fucking stupid. It's not therapeutic.

When he rubs a hand over his face. It comes back wet, and his eyes sting.

"Fuck."

He fishes for his phone. Going to Cas' number is muscle memory at this point.

It rings. Cause Sam can't help but keep the thing charged.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

The ball in his chest is impossibly tight. Why hasn't he called? Just to hear him again, the gruff tenor that's like gravel and silk and the only thing he ever wants to hear, ever. And now he only has nine words he'll ever hear him say again.

That's it. Two sentences.

You saved the whole world. He didn’t save shit.

And what the fuck is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to do anything? He’s never been any good, not as good as he needs to be. Maybe if he would’ve been — or did somethin’ different, anything different —

Dean threads his fingers in his hair and balls his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut against the pool of tears that just leak out, and curls in on himself. His guts are twisted and tight, just like the rest of him. Every part of him shakes, the hand vice-gripping his hair should hurt, should be enough to pull him back to sanity, but the tears don’t stop.

And really what does it matter if he cries. Chucks gone, and The Empty, that — that thing got what was coming to it.

But Cas didn't come back.

He lulls his head against the door, untangles the hand from his hair like his fingers piston operated they ache so bad

God, Cas should’ve just left him in Hell.

Maybe he's Heaven, Billy had said with a shrug. Casual. Like she didn't understand. And Dean knows she does. She gets it more than any of them, saw just what this shit did the last time. Saw exactly how much he didn't want to be around.

Jack had to fuck off to put the universe in balance, so he’s MIA and no help. And Heaven doesn't seem to give a shit.

There must've been a beep somewhere, so Dean just goes with it. Presses the phone to his ear again and works his jaw open until it’s loose enough to allow something resembling words can happen.

"It's — it's bullshit." God Dean can't recognize his own voice, pulled thin and hoarse. "You — you know that right? Bullshit." He shakes his head. Tries to take a deep breath that comes out only slightly less ragged. "You always left. And I — I get that you had to sometimes. But no one wanted you here more than me."

He wipes his face off with the collar of his shirt. His skull screams in sharp pain, and his temples thud. And normally this would be too long of a pause, but normally you don't start a voicemail off trying not to sob, and normally they're made for people who can actually listen to them. So whatever.

"This is stupid. It's not — voicemails ain't your style." His breath leaves, and exhaustion sets deep into his bones. "You always just called back for the explanation. You'd leave 'em, though."

At least Dean assumes. Every call back he'd ever gotten from the guy he'd have to fill him in on whatever was happening anyway. Guess it makes sense in a way. If you have enough time to listen to a message, you've got enough time to call.

The space behind his robes aches when he says, "We both shoulda picked up more, I guess. And Sammy wants me to call now. Like it makes up for shit. It doesn't."

He swipes the little red phone to the left, and stares at the word Cas in his contacts page.

But the screen goes blank, and all he can see are his puffy red eyes reflected in the black screen, and that's motivation, so he gets ready for bed.

1 Year, 10 Months, 13 Days

He calls a few times after that. But tries not to leave voicemails for someone that's just gone, in every sense of the word.

It’s dumb. Still really dumb. And he has no defense for it. Eventually Sam hands him Cas' old phone and a charger. All of the missed voicemails untouched.

Dean could swear he remembers ever last one.

They're mostly simple crap, sometimes. Updates.

"Sam and Eileen are getting hitched. They're pretty fucking disgusting together. But sometimes they look at me, and I can just see it, man. See how they like, bubble themselves off." He laughs, but it's strained.  "Guess it just be written on my face. Which is just friggin’ fantastic. Cause I'm happy for them. I've always wanted that for Sam. But I wanted it for us too. Fucked up that I can only say it now, huh."

"I don't like the way burgers taste anymore. And I, uh, have a bumper sticker now. It's a bee. I kept it together until Sam got misty-eyed." There's a pause for a touch too long, then, "That mixtapes been the only thing in Baby for a month."

"I kept the trenchcoat. Wore it earlier. Got cold out for the first time since —" he sighs. "You wore it better. Looks like shit on me. It pretty much lives in my closet. Can't get monster guts on it that way."

But sometimes it's just a confession, none of the other bullshit. Just the truth.

"Look. I'm not mad. So don't think that. Cause I'm not. Wish I was. It's — it's always been easier. But I was trying to get my head on straight. I would've for you. I just… Don't know how now."

"Can't tell if I like using your old angel blade or fucking hate it. Don't like much of anything anymore. You were better with it."

"Id pray to you, but this is all I got. And I wish I could hope you're up there. But then I'd hope there isn't any pay per view Earth or whatever. Cause this shit? Is pitiful." A sigh. "G'night, Cas."

And one night, a long time later, he's sitting with his back against his bed, nestled next to the end table he never used, he says the truth in a way he knows he should've years and years ago.

"Guess this is like prayin', ain't it? Sammy caught me a few months ago. He wasn't even surprised I'm still doing this. Told me it was, uh — It was okay. Even if I just… never did. And you know what? I don't think l can." He gives a small laugh. "Hell, I only leave messages when I'm feeling, I dunno, brave? Like some part of me thinks you could still hear it and tell me to get lost."

Logically, he knows Cas wouldn't have kicked him to the curb. Wanted him just as much.

"God I listen to it almost every night dude. Just hearing this stupid fucking line —  It's like hitting rewind, for a few seconds."

The rest comes off easy, in its own way

"I miss you, Buddy. And I — I love you more than I know what to do with. I wish it would've been enough. But instead, it killed you."

He ends it, and calls back. Just to listen to the only thing he'll ever hear Cas say again. It’s not a replacement, never will be until he can see if Heaven really does have an angels left.

But the only faith he ever had is just an echo on the other end.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."