#scared ryan from management once

[allsassnoclass]

i’m glad y’all think that the haunted house in my last prompt sounds scary because that was my actual place of work last year

[leth-writes]

Yandere platonic The Boys

Your background, in some ways, is similar to Homelander’s. You were kept captive most of your childhood, forced to practice your abilities constantly until you lost sight of what you even truly looked like

You spent so much time forced to be somebody else that you ended up losing your own identity.

Vought has created the perfect one-person PR campaign; you’re always there to promote or disgrace anyone they need you to. You’ve never even had the option to rebel.

Soon after Starlight is introduced into the Seven, you manage to get out, running barefoot through the front doors with a chain trailing behind you.

Homelander is put on the case, assigned to track down the little science experiment.

He has no qualms with it; if all that was done to him, why should you get to leave when he can’t?

That attitude lasts until he finally corners you in an alley.

All he can see is the bright whites of your panicked eyes; you’re crouched behind a trash can, eyes wild and anxious, hair ragged and skin marred with scratches and cuts. There’s just something… off about you. Like a person, just to the left.

Some deep, buried part of him just snaps, pushing itself to the surface and suddenly he’s 5 again, terrified and staring up at the cruel, blank faces of the doctors hurting him over and over.

He can’t let that happen, not to you. You just awaken that paternal instinct, somehow.

From that moment on, Vought can’t touch you. You’ve got your very own superhero, shielding you from those sterile labs and cold faces.

He takes you back to his apartment and dumps every blanket he can find on top of you, getting you nice and comfortable. Then, he flies back and kills the doctors responsible for your pain.

You’re shaking and shivering, confused and completely unaware of the world at large. You hadn’t ever been able to watch tv, or talk to anyone outside of Vought, so you don’t even know who he is. You aren’t scared of him, which is refreshing. For once, he has someone who doesn’t know anything about his reputation and is looking to him for protection not because he’s Homelander, but because of the real him.

You’re completely isolated.

When he returns, he tells you you’re safe and that he’ll be your father. You’ll form a family together, a strong one, and you’ll never have to be alone again.

As a paternal figure, Homelander seeks to help you understand your true identity. Any pictures of who you once were are all long gone, but he’s going to help you forge a new identity, one he approves of, of course.

He lets you stay in his apartment watching movies and catching up on pop culture while he does his job, returning to get dinner from his cook to feed you. You aren’t allowed to talk to any of the various workers that maintain the apartment, but you’re so scared of them you don’t even notice. Homelander is essentially the only person who’s ever been nice to you, so you look to him for his opinion before you do anything

The control inflates Homelander’s ego even farther. While Ryan was able to be independent, especially because Homelander entered his life so late, he’s really able to shape you in a way he wouldn’t be able to do to anyone else

He tries to get you into his hobbies, talking for hours about American history and his career. He only talks about the positive moments, of course.

He also makes sure to show you all his movies, which you absolutely eat up. He definitely has to explain to you that no, this isn’t something that really happened, it’s just a story.

As the months pass, you get more and more comfortable and start longing to go outside. He reintroduces you to Vought, letting you meet the 7; after he spent an hour lecturing them on proper behavior first, of course.

He keeps you far away from the Deep and Translucent if they’re still present, and definitely tries to keep you away from Starlight; he doesn’t want you getting too close to such a rebellious spirit and being corrupted by her and her terrorist boyfriend, afterall. He trusts Maeve to look after you (at least in the earlier seasons) if he ever has to do something while you’re in the tower.

You, of course, gravitate right to Starlight. You love her ability, and immediately morph into her to show your excitement. You’ve started to view your powers as a positive, rather than fearing them for their connection to the doctors, and you often show your affection by transforming into your vision of the person you’re talking to. It’s how Homelander gauges your reactions to him; he can tell, based on how you transform, how you feel about him. You tend to exaggerate the kindness of his eyes and the curve of his mouth, and you always make him look so soft and gentle, it really helps with that anxiety, that fear of you leaving him and destroying your family

With Starlight, she finds it quite creepy at first, at least before she notices you’re exaggerating the features you believe really represent her. You’ve made her hair softer, framing her face perfectly, and made her look a lot happier; you see her as a soft, comforting figure, almost like an older sister.

Starlight can feel her heart melt when she talks to you. You’re so sweet and oblivious, completely unaware of the monster you’re living with, and her goal shifts to include keeping you safe.

Thus begins the back and forth between Homelander and Starlight.

[justanotherescapism]

SFW Alphabet - Homelander

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Homelander is very affectionate but only when he's alone with you. He wouldn't like much PDA but would love to hold you close when in his apartment.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Initially he wouldn't trust you, after all, everyone likes to appease him as they're scared of him. But you would be different, speaking your mind around him, you wouldn't even seem to be remotely scared of him. That makes him take a liking to you, and soon become close friends.

He'd trust you with all of his secrets and be his go-to person when he's stressed or overwhelmed. He would also ask for your advice when it comes to Ryan as he would struggle to manage being a parent.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Homelander is a big softie behind close doors. He would love when he can be the small spoon as for once someone is comforting him rather than using or hurting him. He would also love to lay in your lap after a long day whilst you play with his hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He would like to settle down but not before he finishes his plans to make it safe for him and his family. He would want kids in the future but he's in no rush, as he has Ryan.

As he doesn't really need to eat, he wouldn't know how to cook but luckily he can fly anywhere and get any take-out you could ever want.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Homelander would turn stone cold. He'd be unapologetic, after all, everyone he has loved has betrayed him or died, so he wouldn't skip a beat. When you cry or plead with him, he'd simply step away from you and show you the door.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage is a strange concept to Homelander. He wouldn't really know how or when he would do it. But once you start hinting you want to get married, he'd get you a ring the next day.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He can change and somewhat suddenly. He might come back to your apartment gently kissing your neck, only to quickly push you up against and hall and begin making out with you roughly. When it comes to emotions, he can be closed off but all it takes it you taking him in your arms and he crumbles.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Every night when he would come back to you, he would wrap his around you. He squeezes you tightly but not enough to hurt. He would love to come behind you and cradle into the crook of your neck.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Once how knows, he knows. He might not tell you straight away but he would know. It would come out accidentally when you were complaining about something or talking about your day. You would ask if he was listening and he'd just blurt it out.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Very. He would get passive aggressive and try (and succeed) to intimidate the other person. They would back off straight away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sometimes, they would be rough and take your breath away, other times they would be gentle and vulnerable. He would like been kissed on the forehead when you're cuddling, it would make him feel safe and at ease.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Around little little ones, he would be unsure and confused. Often holding the baby like its an alien. You would have to teach him how to look after them and hold them but once they become a bit older and start showing powers, he would love to help them train and become better supes.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He wouldn't be one to hang around in the morning, preferring to get up right away but sometimes you can convince to cuddle for a little bit. He pretends he hates it but really he loves it. After you both get up and shower, he would make you a coffee whilst you make breakfast for you both.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings would be spent quietly, often you would be by yourself until quite late due to his job. You might spend time with Ryan if he wanted to, and cook you both dinner or order take out. When Homelander comes back, all he wants is comfort and love. He would cuddle you until you both fall alseep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Intially you'd know very little about his past and how he feels inside, because he's scared you'd use it against him. But once he realises that he loves you, he'd begin telling you stories about his childhood. When you respond protectively and get angry at the people from the stories, he would only love you more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Surprisingly, I feel like he would be really patient with you, but with anyone else he would be quick to anger, especially if it was to do with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He'd remember everything but he'd pretend like he doesn't know a story or a fact so that he can hear you tell it all over again.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you first got together, you were introduced to Ryan. Homelander was scared because what if you didn't get along. But when you met, you instantly warmed up to each other. So, when he came home one night and found you two asleep on the couch after watching some movies together, take-out boxes and milkshakes on the coffee table. He couldn't feel more love for you and Ryan.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Homelander is extremely protective as to be expected. He would always have a hand on the small of your back or around your waist so both you and he knows your there. He would also fly you anywhere you'd need to go because he couldn't stand the thought of anyone taking you away from him

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would go all out. For someone who can go anywhere, he could get any food you'd want or take you to any restaurant. Also the endorsement of the Homelander would get you to the top of any reservation list.

However, when it comes to day to day stuff, he is often so drained from Vought that he can't put much effort into gestures of affection. This can cause you to feel a bit neglected sometimes but honestly, you're more understanding than annoyed. He would make up for it when he can and you appreciate it every time.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His jealously is a lot for any person to handle. If anyone so much as looked at you, he would be ready to fight them. He would become so passive aggressive and sinister. You get lonely quite a lot because it's hard to maintain friends when you have Homelander at your side

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He cares quite a bit, however, it mostly because of the way Vought brought him up. When he starts to visibly age, he'd try to hid it from you at first. Worried you wouldn't be as attractive to him but when he finally comes clean, you tell him you love him regardless of how he looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. He needs you to be able to get through the day.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Homelander loves massages, both giving and receiving. He would love to rub you down after you have had a workout or just want to relax. When you rub him down, it doesn't help any of his pain but he loves to be vulnerable around you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Playing games, Homelander likes it simple when it comes to dating. He just wants to be with someone and that's it. He doesn't like chasing or playing hard to get. It would frustrate him and he doesn't have time for that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Homelander doesn't really need to sleep but he would love to lay with you and watch you sleep. He loves it when you roll onto him in the night. He always holds you close and lets you sprawl across his body. Eventually he would get used to falling asleep next to you at night.

[bingbongsupremacy]

This might be bad but could you write a Steve Harrington story where he left the reader for nancy after they were secretly dating bc she’s plus sized. Then once he cleans up his act he writes her a letter. I was thinking it could be based on closure by Taylor Swift! Thank you !

Closure

This isn't bad ! I can totally do that. I listened to the song for the first time today so I hope you like this! Also, This is going to be a two part piece. I wanted to give some background context so that's what this first part is about. I'll be working on part 2 soon. I hope you don't mind.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: I'm not a basketball player nor have I ever been a manager. Honestly I've never really been to a basketball game so I'm not sure if this is all super accurate. Pls let me know. Cursing, Use of Y/N, use of the word girl, some self doubt.

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave cause you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

Teenage love. Powerful. Fast. Fun. Potent.

The first boy I fell in love with was Steve Harrington. How couldn't I have? His perfect hair. Beautiful eyes. His flirty smile.

Every girl liked Steve at one point or another.

Steve and I grew up together in Hawkins. We never had the same classes together, but boy, I knew of Steve. We finally officially met in high school when I became the manager for the Hawkins High Basketball team.

Freshman Year - 1981

" Alright guys, huddle up. " Coach Ryan shouts to the sweaty boys drilling around the gym. " This is our manager. You will treat them with respect, you hear? I want none of that bullshit that went on last year. You got that Seniors? " Coach Ryan sends a pointed look at the upperclassmen. " If I hear of anyone disrespecting our manager, you'll be running on bleachers for the next month. I'm serious. "

What an introduction.

I shift slightly, a little uncomfortable with the gazes of the boys. I send a small smile to the team, trying to calm myself. " Hey, guys. Let me know if you need anything. " I scan the group in front of me. My eyes land on a familiar face on the back row. His friendly smile sends a wave of butterflies fluttering throughout my body. My eyes linger on him for a few seconds before I force myself to look away.

The last thing I need is for him to realize I like him. How awkward.

The coach makes a few more announcements before he dismisses the boys to the locker rooms.

" I needs you to gather up the balls and take them back to the equipment room. " Coach Ryan nods in the direction of the small closet on the other side of the room.

" Sure thing! Anything else? " I ask, reaching down to pick up one of the stray balls.

" Not that I can think of. I'll be in my office if you need me. " Coach Ryan nods a goodbye before heading towards the boys locker room where his office is located.

I look around the gym. Abandoned basketballs lay scattered around the gym. This is going to take a minute.

I pull the metal ball holder behind me as I begin picking everything up.

" Here ya go. " A voice startles me from behind.

I turn to see Steve holding two basketballs under his arms. He sends me a small smile.

" Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. " He sets the basketballs on the top rack.

I smile back at him. " It's all good. I scare easily. "

Steve jogs over to one of the balls a few feet away from us, swiftly picking it up.

" Oh, you don't need to do that. I've got it. It's my job anyway. "

Steve shakes his head, a looks piece of hair falling in front of his face. " I don't mind. It's kinda fucked up you have to clean up our mess. "

I shrug. " I mean, I signed up to do it. "

Steve nods. " Why did you sign up to be a manager? "

" Honestly, to get out of class. " I feel heat begin to spread over my face at the sound of Steve's laugh. " I hate biology. "

" Whaddya mean? Mr. Jackson's a world-class comedian. You're telling me you don't like his cell jokes? " Steve grins.

I cringe, memories of Mr. Jackson's awkward dad jokes and the silence following filling my mind. " I could do without. "

" You know, I don't think we've actually ever talked before. " Steve points out while heading towards another ball. Instead of returning it to the cart, he dribbles it towards the hoop closest to us. He shoots it into the hoop, the ball making a loud sound as it returns to the ground.

" Well, we've never had a class together. " I shrug, taking the ball from him as he hands it over to me.

" What a shame. "

Does Steve like talking to me?

" I mean, that doesn't mean we can't start now. We're gonna be stuck together for the next few months. "

Steve picks up the last basketball. " True. I gotta go get changed before my mom gets here. It's been nice. See ya tomorrow? " His eyes steadily hold my gaze.

I nod. " For sure. "

Steve's smile widens slightly. " Later, Y/N. "

" Bye Steve. " My throat feels tight from excitement. I can't believe that just happened. Steve knows I exist. He knows I exist! And he actually likes talking to me! This...this is fucking great.

Sophomore Year - 1982

" Hurry the fuck up, Y/N. " Steve groans, his sweaty forehead pressed against his forearm. He lazily leans against the now empty bleachers, his eyes following me as I finish writing down the total of money the team made off of concessions.

" I told you that you didn't have to wait for me. I have shit to finish up here. " I nod towards the clip board in front of me.

" I'd be a shitty friend if I left you here. What if you get...kidnapped or some shit. I'd be first on the suspect list. "

Friend. I'm only his friend. Gosh, I need to get over this stupid crush. I mean, it's been over a year since we met and he hasn't said anything about liking me. Why would he like me now? He's into girls like Chrissy. Why else would he flirt with girls like her and not with me? If he liked me he'd tell me. Right?

I roll my eyes, trying to shake off my thoughts and focus of the impatient boy in front of me. " Great to see you care about me so much. Definitely isn't because of your reputation. "

Steve lets out a small laugh. " You know I'm fucking with you, right? "

" I know. Look, I'm almost done. Grab your duffle from the locker, will you? By the time you get back I'll have everything finished. Plus it'll give me a break from your whiny ass. " I joke.

" Ouch. And here I thought you loved me. " Steve holds a hand up to his heart, humor clearly in his tone.

For a moment my heart begins to race. Love. He knows? He doesn't know. Shut the fuck up and be normal. He's a friend. Just a friend.

" What made you believe that? Tommy's obviously my number 1. "

I'm not the biggest fan of Tommy. He's hot a cold. Somedays he's decent, other days he's a complete shit head. He's changed a lot since middle school.

For a moment something flashes over Steve's expression. Surprise maybe? Annoyance? As quickly as it comes it's gone. His playful expression returns. " I'll be sure to let him know that. "

" Don't you fucking dare! " My head snaps towards him. " I'll kill you, Harrington. I'm not even joking. He'll never let me live that shit down, even if it's a lie. And Carol will beat the shit out of me. "

Steve raises an eyebrow in amusement. He leans back against the bleachers, crossing his arms. " Don't worry, I'll sell tickets for the show. I'll even cheer you on. "

I roll my eyes. " Of course you would. "

" I'm gonna go grab my stuff before the janitors lock the locker rooms up for the night. " Steve laughs, pushing himself up. " Hurry the fuck up before I leave you here. "

" You wouldn't dare. "

" Watch me. " With that, he strolls towards the direction of the locker rooms. His strides ooze with confidence, a kind only Steve can emit.

Steve truly is one of a kind.

Junior Year - 1983

" Are you going to prom? " Steve asks out of the blue. He doesn't bother looking up from his text book.

I swallow harshly, heat climbing up my cheeks. I hate when people ask me this. " Nah. Prom's overrated. "

Steve's eyebrow quirks up. " So you're a dance hater? "

I shrug. " I just don't see what the big deal is. Blowing a ton of cash for one night? I'd rather buy new records. " I debate whether or not to tell him the next part. " Plus no one's asked me. " They never do. Why would they when they could ask someone like Carol or Chrissy?

Steve finally looks up at me, his gaze finally meeting mine. Shock is evident in his expression. " Really? You haven't been asked? "

I shake my head, heat crawling up my face again. " Why would I? In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have a ton of guy friends. And my friend pool isn't the largest. "

Steve sends me a sympathetic smile.

Instead of comforting me, it annoys me. He doesn't understand. He's had girls asking him out and asking him to dances from the moment he was allowed to go to dances.

" Anyone would be lucky to take you. You're a great person, Y/N. "

I roll my eyes, laughing slightly. " Yeah. Lucky. "

Steve's eyebrows furrow. " Why are you laughing? I'm serious. You're like the coolest person I know. "

" Then you have a very unique perspective of the word cool. " I glance up at the clock on the wall behind him. " Shit, I told my mom I'd run to the store and pick up some potatoes for dinner. I'm gonna be late. I gotta go. " I rush to gather my notebooks off of the library table.

" Do you want me to take you? " Steve asks, getting up after me.

I shake my head. " It's fine. It's just down the street. You keep studying. Lord knows you need to. Gotta pass that calc test in Jones' class tomorrow. " Truthfully, I just want to get out of this conversation and I'm worried that if Steve gives me a ride it'll just reignite the topic.

" Are you sure? I really don't mind taking you. I can always study at home. "

" I'm fine Steve. Plus, if you try to 'Study' at home, you're not going to get anything done. I know you. "

Steve rolls his eyes. " I love your confidence in me. With your reassuring words I can do anything. "

I let out a small laugh. " Shut up. "

Steve grins.

Fuck he's perfect.

I need to get out of here.

" I'll see ya later Steve. " I wave at him, pulling my bookbag over my shoulder.

" Later, Y/N. Walk safe. Call me in an hour or two so I know you weren't kidnapped or forced to join a circus. " Steve's joking but a part of his expression seems serious. Like he's actually worried about me.

I let out a sigh. " I'll be fine but I'll call you. "

I wish I was the type of person boys would ask out. The type that don't have to do anything for people to crush on them.

But I'm not.

++++++

" Y/N, Steve's here! " My mothers voice calls up to me.

What? Why's Steve here?

Confused, I head downstairs. As soon as I reach the bottom my eyes widen. Steve's still in the doorway, a small box in his hands. His hair is styled perfectly, like always. He's dressed in a fancy suit, something I've only seen him do for fall sport award nights or very special occasions.

" What the...? " I finally get to the bottom of the stairs. " Steve? What's going on? "

" You're going to Prom with me. " Steve holds out the box, his comment more of a statement then a question.

" I don't have an outfit! " I protest, confusion still fogging my mind.

" Just put on whatever you have. Come on, Y/N. It's prom. You need to experience it at least once. Why not with me? "

I feel my stomach begin to churn. Steve's taking me to prom? What fucking dream have I been blessed with?

I chew on my bottom lip. " I'll be back. " I turn to run back up the stairs.

I can't believe I'm going to prom with Steve.

I do my best to get dressed quickly. I manage to find a semi appropriate outfit for the dance and we head out.

" Dinner first. The dance is at 9. " Steve pulls into a familiar diner. It's the diner the whole team eats at after winning a game.

" Oh, you forgot to put on your corsage. " Steve opens the small box, gently taking out a beautiful corsage.

" Oh Steve, you really didn't have to do that. " I stare down at the beautiful flowers. " This is too much. "

Steve shakes his head. " I want you to have a prom to remember. You deserve it. "

I send him a smile. " Thank you. You...you're really the best. "

His smile widens, sending butterflies through my body. He gently puts the corsage onto my wrist. His fingers are cool. They leave tingly sensations on the skin he touches.

For a moment it's silent. I try to find a way to calm my nerves.

He's your friend. Just a friend.

" Actually, Y/N. I also wanted to talk to you about something. " Steve breaks the comfortable silence.

" Yeah? Go for it. " I take a sip of my water, my eyes staying on him.

For the first time he looks nervous. Like he has so much to say but he doesn't know how to.

" Are you okay? " I ask, slightly concerned. He's always so confident. He knows who he is and he's proud of it. It's something I've always admired.

Steve nods, pulling his eyes away from his water cup. " I'm just going to say it. Fuck. " He runs a hand through his hair.

My heart begins to pound faster. What's going on?

" Fuck, I hope this doesn't make things weird. That's the last thing I want. Look, I really like having you as a friend... " He starts.

What the fuck is he going to say? Now I'm nervous. Does he have another girlfriend? Someone who doesn't like him being friends with me?

"-But...fuck, look I like you. " He blurts out, a small blush crawling up his cheeks. " I've liked you for years and I really want to be more than friends. And...I don't know if this makes it weird. If you don't like me, I completely understand. We can just pretend this shit didn't happen and go to prom and never talk about it again. I really don't want to make you uncomfortable-" Steve rambles.

" Steve. " I try to interrupt.

" It's just been something I've struggled with for years and fuck, I don't want to keep it from you. Not when we could potentially be something more. I mean - "

" Steve. " I try a little more forcefully.

Steve's clearly stuck in his head because he doesn't seem to hear me.

"-I just don't want to have any regrets. Especially about you-"

" Fucking hell. Steve Harrington, I need you to shut the fuck up for a second. " I say louder, attracting the attention from an older couple nearby. " Sorry. "

Steve looks at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting my reaction.

" Let me talk. Please. " I look into his eyes, excitement bubbling in my chest. " I like you to. Fuck, I never thought this would happen. "

Steve breaks into a wide grin. His shoulders relax and he seems less tense. " You do? "

I laugh slightly. " I mean, yeah. You're funny, you're talented, you're nice. You're the whole package. Steve, you're one of the kindest people I know. It's hard not to like you. "

" Oh my...thank god. I was so nervous you weren't going to feel the same. " Steve leans back into the booth seat he's in across from me.

" Me too. "

Today really has to be a dream.

" So...do you want to be my partner? " Steve asks, his gaze holding mine.

I smile. " I'd love to. "

Senior Year - 1984

" I'll see you after class? " Steve grins at me. He pushes away from the lockers he was leaning on.

" Of course. I'll meet you at your car. "

I watch as Steve walks away. He's immediately swallowed up by the crowd.

Thing's have been pretty good. Ever since we started going steady, things have been really nice. Of course, some people in the school don't really approve. It's hard to ignore sometimes but we try. Not everyone agrees that Steve should date someone like me.

It hurts.

But what's important is that we're still together. Despite the shit people say, we're trying.

Sometimes I can see it gets to Steve. He's lost a bit of respect. It's so fucking stupid. I don't understand why people think it's so important for him to date a certain type of person.

Sometimes I feel guilty for us dating. Sometimes his teammates can be dicks. They don't see what he sees in me.

It doesn't matter. As long as we're both happy, that's what's important.

++++++

" Look, we need to talk. "

Those are the first words I hear when I get into Steve's car. His jaw is tight. He avoids looking at me.

" Oh, yeah. What's up? " I ask, confused about what's going on. " Are you alright? You look tense. Did something happen in fifth period? "

" We need to break up. " Steve blurts out. He still avoids my gaze.

My eyes widen. " What? What's going on? Steve, look at me? "

" I'm done, Y/N. I need out of this relationship. "

What the fuck happened? We were fine literally an hour ago. What the fuck is going on?

" Why? Steve, what the fuck are you talking about? "

I feel my heart begin to break at his words.

Steve shakes his head. " I just-look, you're a nice girl, Y/N. But...I can't date you anymore. " His voice waivers slightly.

" Steve, what did I do? " My voice crackles. I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. " What the fuck happened? "

" We don't look good together, Y/N. "

His excuse is fucking stupid.

" Since when have you cared about what other people think? Why now? "

Steve swallows harshly. " It's different now...I...you...we can't do this. You hear what they say about us, Y/N, don't you? What they say about you? "

Anger begins to bubble inside of me. This is what it's about. " It's me. You're embarrassed of me. " I'm silent for a second, trying not to let the tears come out. " Fuck you, Steve. "

Finally Steve looks up at me, hurt flashing over his face.

" You're an asshole, you know that? Since when have you given a fuck about someone elses' opinion? You're really doing this because of what other people have said? You're just like fucking Tommy, you know that? Like all of the other shallow assholes going to our school. " I open my door. " I hope you're happy. You'll finally get your spot as King of Hawkins back. I wish I'd never met you, Steve. "

" Y/N-" Steve begins, his arm reaching towards me. " I'm sorry- "

" Fuck you. " I slam his door, rushing away from his car. I hear a snicker as I walk past a few of the cars. Tommy and Carol whisper to each other, their harsh gazes glaring holes into my frame.

Steve's always had a bit of a reputation for being a dick to certain people. He's had a bit of a bullying streak. I thought that shit was over. I thought he'd grown out of it, I mean he was never mean to me.

I was wrong.

+++++++

Two days later he started dating Nancy Wheeler and I quit being a manager for the basketball team.

Fuck you Steve Harrington.

[nhlclover]

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 | 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐃

summary: ryan reaches a breaking point and finally confronts your hesitation towards him

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, good guy ryan alert, open ended/cliffhanger

word count: 1.12k

The dimly lit bar hummed with life, bodies crowding every area, with the low murmur of conversations filling the air. People crowded every inch of the space, but somehow, you and Ryan had managed to carve out your own little corner next to the oak bar. Shoulders brushing, the world beyond the two of you seemed to fade away as you shared a quiet moment amid the chaos.

Ryan's dark eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the overhead lights, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you. His presence was magnetic—effortless in a way that made the noise of the bar slip into the background. He had that kind of effect on you, the ability to make everything else feel less important.

“Having fun?” Ryan asked, his voice warm and teasing, laced with the hint of a smile that sent warmth rushing through your veins.

You smiled back feeling a familiar flutter in your chest. “Yeah… yeah I am.”

“Me too.” Ryan’s gaze lingered on you, his hand resting casually on the bar just inches from yours. The space between you two seemed smaller than ever, the lines between friendship and something more growing impossibly blurred.

The excitement of it all was undeniable. Yet, beneath that, something dark and heavy weighed you down—fear, the unshakable fear of history repeating itself. His fingers brushed yours again, sending a spark of warmth through your skin. A touch that should’ve felt thrilling but instead ignited a storm of anxiety deep within you.

You wanted to let go, to let yourself dive into the possibility of what was happening with Ryan, but memories of your past tugged you back like chains around your heart. Three years. You’d given three years to someone you thought you knew, someone you trusted, only to discover his betrayal. That moment had shattered something inside you, something that refused to be rebuilt easily.

Even though you had left him—cut ties, picked up the pieces, and moved on—it still lingered. You had healed, or at least you thought you had, but now, with Ryan looking at you like that, with the possibility of something real staring you in the face, all those old fears came rushing back.

Ryan’s hand drifted even closer, his fingers just barely touching yours, as if asking permission to go further. The warmth of his skin should’ve felt comforting, but instead, it pulled you back to that place—where the trust you once had was ripped away.

You pulled your hand back instinctively, slipping it into your pocket, needing space—needing to breathe. You felt Ryan stiffen beside you, his playful expression falling away like a mask.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice was low, barely above a murmur, but it was enough to cut through the noise around you.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden change in his tone. “Doing what?”

Ryan’s eye’s flashed with hurt. “You know what I’m talking about. You keep pulling away—every time we get close, you shut down.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut because he was right. Every time he inched closer—physically, emotionally—you retreated. You couldn’t help it. The fear was like a reflex, one that you couldn’t seem to control. Every time he tried to get closer, you felt yourself retreating into the safety of your walls. You’d open yourself up to him, and just when you’re on the precipice of finally being happy with someone again, you step back from the ledge.

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes dropping to the floor, guilt pooling in your chest. “It’s not you… it’s me. I just—I’m scared, Ryan.”

Ryan’s brows furrowed in confusion, though his frustration simmered just beneath the surface. He took a step closer, his presence towering though never overwhelming. His voice was softer this time, but still filled with quiet determination. “Scared of what? Of me?”

“No, not you,” you shook your head quickly, heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m scared of what could happen. Of getting hurt again.”

The vulnerability in your voice hit him, and for a moment, his features softened. But he didn’t let it go entirely. “I’m not him,” Ryan said, his tone firm but gentle, trying to break through your barriers. “I know what he did to you was horrible, and I’m sorry you had to go through that. But I’m not him. I’m not going to cheat on you, or lie, or do any of the crap he did. But you have to stop treating me like I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, willing yourself to hold it together. “I don’t mean to,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s just… I trusted him, and it destroyed me. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Ryan let out a slow breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “I get that,” he said quietly, “but if you don’t take a chance—if you keep running away—how will you ever know?”

You stared down at your intertwined hands, the warmth of his touch calming the storm in your chest, but the fear still loomed. He could break your heart, just like your ex. But what if he didn’t?

Ryan squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Look,” he said, his voice steady, “I’m all in. I like you—a lot. More than that, I care about you. I’ve been waiting, giving you space to figure things out, but I can’t keep doing this forever. If you don’t want this—if you don’t want me—then I need to know. I need to know now because I’m done waiting for you to decide.”

There was a finality in his words that sent a cold rush of panic through you. His eyes searched yours, desperate to find some sort of resolution in them, however he just watched them dart around his face laced with uncertainty.

Ryan sighed, pulling his hand away from yours. The loss of his warmth was immediate and sharp, a reminder of what you were risking. He fished out his wallet from his back pocket and tossed some cash onto the bar, enough to cover both your drinks.

“I’m not going to wait forever,” he said softly, his voice filled with an aching sincerity. “But I want this. I want you. You just need to figure out if you want the same.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. You stood there, alone by the bar, the weight of his words pressing down on you, your heart caught in a battle between fear and longing.

[coolprettyleo]

the jokes weren't funny. - connor bedard ☆

wc: 627

tw: filming, drama, sadness, mean comments

ryan leonard x ex oc

connor bedard x oc

death by a thousand cuts au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie hughes felt like she couldn't catch a break for the life of her.

no matter how many times the girl thought her life was finally getting better, it only seemed to turn around and smack her right back down.

she sat in the las Vegas hotel room in tears as she read through the comments about the latest TMZ article that, of course, had to do with her.

someone had filmed her and connor outside the bar last night as they waited for their Uber, and the video was quite interesting, to say the least.

it started off with the two of them drunkenly dancing around from the muffled bar music, obviously intoxicated, which seemed to cause a stir amongst the media, seeing as they were both underage and were supposed to be 'role models'. it only got worse because the two young adults seemed to forget they were in public and made out with each other against the wall a little later on into the video.

the comments were brutal, and she couldn't help but think she deserved every single one.

what happened to her and ryan? they were so cute.

omg she's cheating

puck bunny at its finest

leonards too good for her anyways

why do i ship

maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but people still believed she was with ryan. they hadn't given anyone to believe they were over, they hadn't unfollowed each other or removed the pictures of each other from their social media, so it was understandable why the world thought she was a cheater.

she had definitely felt like one. her heart still belonged to ryan, but she was sure he would want nothing to do with her once he caught sight of the video.

she felt completely helpless, so she resorted to doing nothing but curl up into a ball and cry. wondering why the hell she was the way she was.

she was cut off from wallowing in self-pity when her manager, darcy, called. knowing it was going to be nothing but a scolding, she answered because she most likely had a solution.

"hello?" she answered a bit timidly.

"hello. I'm assuming you've seen the video, and I'm calling to tell you it's going to be fine. you were bound to have a scandal at some point; I'm just happy it isn't rehab yet. anyways, we have two choices, we can put out a statement on your behalf, or you unfollow and remove every picture of ryan from your feed," darcy rushed out.

"I don't- I don't want to do that," frankie said, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes. she felt like that would make the breakup so much more real, and she knew she wasn't ready to do that yet.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, honey. you're still on the rise, and a big scandal this early into your career won't go well. it's better to put out the fire before it gets bigger," darcy explained to her.

"I just feel like it will blow over if we, like, let it," Frankie said.

"it wouldn't just blow over! unless..." darcy thought as frankie waited. anything would sound better to her at this point.

"i mean, i would have to get in contact with his team, but I'm sure they'd be on board. the internet loves a good crossover, just look at taylor swift and travis kelce-"

"what?" frankie asked, confused as to who or what she was saying.

"we could make the public think you and ryan have been separated for a while now," she said

"and how would we do that?" frankie asked, scared to hear the answer.

"you get into a pr relationship with connor bedard, of course!"

[bigmpregnm]

Movie Night - Part 3

[Story Collection] | [Part 2] [●]

“Uhh… ahh… wha-what the fuck are you talking about? Tha-that’s not fucking funny… uugghh, there’s something wrong,” Hunter managed to say through gritted teeth, clearly in pain. He was squeezing my hand really hard; his breathing became heavy, and his belly kept contracting. Tears streamed down his cheeks, showing how much pain he was experiencing.

“I’m not kidding. Just look at the movie and then look at yourself. It all makes sense. Somehow, I knocked you up. It makes sense,” I explained, but Hunter looked harshly at me, clearly not believing me.

“I’m a man! Men can’t get pregnant... aaaggghhh… I don’t wanna hear your… uugghh… jokes about my weight,” Hunter replied, crying even harder. He suddenly got all emotional, another proof to confirm my theory.

“Hey, I’m not kidding, and you know I’d never make fun of your weight. I like you, Hunter. I like you this big or with abs. It’s time we stop pretending we’re still just friends,” I said, looking him in the eyes. He breathed heavily and rubbed his belly. “I think you’re my man, Hunter. The one I want,” I added, leaning in to kiss his lips. However, before I could do it, he screamed in pain once again.

“Ryan, take me to the bathroom. Please… uugghh… I need to go unless you want me to… aah… ruin our couch,” Hunter said, struggling to move from the couch without success.

“Did you even hear what I said?” I asked, feeling confused and hurt.

“BATHROOM! NOW!” he shouted. I stood from the couch and extended my arms to help him stand.

I grabbed both his arms and pulled him up, hearing him groan and grunt all along. He was heavier than I expected, probably because he wasn’t making any effort to stand up. It seemed like he was in so much pain that his legs weren’t responding, or maybe he just wanted me to do all the work. Whatever the case was, as strong as I was, it was difficult for me to get him off the couch.

Tears of pain were running down his cheeks, and his belly was still shaking violently. Realizing that moving him off the couch would be too painful for him and nearly impossible for me, I instead pushed him and helped him lie on his back. He was clearly mad at me and tried to resist, but he was clearly in too much pain to have the strength to do so.

“Hunter, listen to me. You’re in labor. Just trust me, okay? Look at me. I’m not joking,” I said, his teary eyes locked into mine. I saw the fear in his eyes and couldn’t blame him. I was also scared, and I wasn’t in his position.

“Ryan, it can’t be. I’m a-a-aahhhhhhhhh… Please help me!” Hunter screamed out and clutched his big belly tightly. Now that he was lying on his back, his belly looked tighter and bigger than ever.

“Just breathe, Hunter. We’ve watched TV shows about this. Well, not exactly this, but I guess it works the same. You have to breathe until you feel the urge to push,” I said while Hunter groaned and rubbed his belly.

“Ryan, stop. I’m not pregnant. I’m not in labor. I’m not having your child… ugghh… man, I’m going to poop on the couch… ahhh!” he screamed, and it took me a moment to realize he was feeling something coming out of his ass. “I swear, if I survive this, I’ll kill you. Take me to the fucking bathroom,” he managed to say, unintentionally lifting his legs, getting in the right position to push.

As he kept breathing heavily, I tried to recall any knowledge I had about childbirth, which was limited considering the unusual scenario. However, I tried to calm myself down and think about what I could do to help Hunter. Memories of movies and videos I had seen rushed to my mind, and I quickly ran to the bathroom to get the supplies we needed. I could hear Hunter’s groans and labored breathing from there.

As I collected towels and a pair of scissors to cut the cord, I realized that I was about to become a father, at least if my theory was correct. That realization hit me hard. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, contemplating the idea of myself as a dad to the baby Hunter was giving birth to. Many thoughts crossed my mind, especially since we were both males and only supposed to be friends. Also, Hunter’s lack of response to my love declaration earlier made me feel insecure about what would happen between us if he was really having my kid.

Lost in my own thoughts, I heard Hunter calling my name, and I quickly ran back to the living room with the towels and scissors in hand. Hunter was in the same position, with his knees bent, and this gave me a clear view of his gaping hole. I knew nothing about the process of childbirth, but I was sure Hunter was dilated enough to push. As I got closer, I noticed the undeniable shape of a baby’s head slowly emerging from Hunter’s hole.

“Hunter, I know you don’t believe me, but I need you to trust me. I need you to push. And I promise this will be over soon,” I said as I knelt by the couch and held Hunter’s hand.

“No, no, no. This can’t be real. Ryan… uuugghh… I don’t want to push… I-I need this to stop,” he said with teary eyes, and I kissed his cheek.

“Hey, I promise this will be over soon. I’m here with you. Now, trust me, you need to push,” I said firmly.

Hunter took a deep breath and started pushing after a few seconds of hesitation. “I can’t… be doing… this… uugghh,” he said, groaning through the effort. He still seemed in denial, but at least he was slightly progressing.

“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon and… and… well, we’ll deal with the results later,” I kissed his belly and positioned myself between his legs, still holding his hand.

I was in awe of Hunter’s strength and how he was dealing with what looked like an incredibly painful experience. As I looked at his hole opening more and more as the baby’s head crowned, I couldn’t contain some tears of joy, aware that I was watching my child being born.

As the baby’s head was crowning, Hunter was clearly struggling to make progress due to the size of the baby’s head. He was pushing with all his might. I could see it on his face, but the baby was big, making it difficult for Hunter to clear the baby’s head.

“Come on, Hunter. You’ve been doing amazing. Just push,” I said, but he only looked harshly at me.

“I don’t even know what I’m… ugh… doing! I feel like… uh uuuhh… like my guts are coming out… uugghh… of me!” He said, and I smiled kindly at him.

“Give me a second, and I’ll give you some good motivation to keep pushing,” I said and quickly ran to grab my phone. I quickly took a photo of the baby crowning and showed it to Hunter. He instantly became speechless. “You see? Just keep pushing, and we’ll have our baby in our arms”. I added, and he started crying.

As he started pushing again, I noticed he immediately started progressing. With a deep breath, he focused all his energy on pushing, determined to meet his baby. It was a surreal scene, and with each push Hunter gave, more of the baby’s head emerged, and the more emotional I became. I was glad to be there for Hunter and for our child, and deep inside, I wondered if this would change something in our friendship.

After several strong pushes, the baby’s head finally popped out, followed by more fluids. Hunter took a short break before the baby started turning, and the shoulders slowly came out while Hunter screamed out in evident pain. I had never witnessed a birth before, and I had never seen a newborn this close. But I knew our baby was bigger than average. Not only was the head huge, but the broad shoulders showed we were having a little giant.

“Why is this baby so big?” Hunter managed to say as the shoulders came through, and the rest of the body started slowly sliding out.

“You’ve been eating a lot over the last few months. You’re the only one to blame for this,” I said as I placed my hands under our big boy, holding him while his torso came out, soon followed by his hips, legs, and finally his legs.

When the baby was finally born, Hunter finally lay back and took a deep breath. He was clearly relieved, and I couldn’t blame him. As I cleaned our big baby boy, I marveled at his size and weight. I estimated that he weighed around 12 pounds, which was incredibly impressive. What impressed me the most, however, was how perfect he looked.

The baby looked like a perfect mix of Hunter and me. As I cleaned his face and cleared his nose, he started crying loudly. I saw Hunter jumping in excitement, trying to sit up to see the baby.

“Just give me a minute, Hunter. Let me finish cleaning our big baby boy before you can hold him,” I said, tears of joy streaming down my face.

“A… boy? Did I really have a baby?” Hunter asked, still confused, even though he could see the baby in my hands.

“Yes, you did, and he’s perfect. You did a great job,” I said as I finished and carefully placed him in Hunter’s arms.

Hunter started crying instantly as the baby cooed in his arms. It was such a cute scene, but as I looked at Hunter and the baby, I noticed Hunter’s belly was still pretty big. Even though it had definitely deflated, it was still too round to look empty. Shivers ran down my spine while I considered the possible implications.

While Hunter got our baby close to his nipple to feed him, I started rubbing his belly and immediately felt that it was still too hard to be just skin. I didn’t know how to tell Hunter that I thought there was still another baby. So, as I cut the cord of the first baby, I looked at him, waiting for him to realize it on his own, but Hunter was so entranced with our first baby boy that he wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

“Hunter, I think… I think…” I was trying to find the words to tell him, but a loud gran interrupted me as his belly started contracting again, and his hole started opening even faster than before. “Another baby is coming,” I finally managed to say. But Hunter was unconsciously pushing by then.

“What? Another one? No, no… no… uugghh… Fuck!” Hunter managed to say, clearly confused. The first baby was suckling on his nipple, and now there was a second one slowly making its way out of him.

“Hey, you’ve got this. You did it once; you can do it again,” I added as I got between Hunter’s legs again, trying to sound supportive.

“This is all your fault. You did this to me. You… uughh… uuhh… you knocked me up… uuhh uuhh uhh… now… I-I…aahhhh,” he said, clearly mad at me. But since we both knew what to expect, he started pushing, and the baby was coming out much faster than the first one, even though it looked just as big.

I just smiled at him as our second baby was already crowning. His strong pushes were very effective, making me feel proud of him. As I looked at Hunter bringing our second child into the world, I felt like my heart would burst out of my chest. Having a family had crossed my mind a few times over the years, and there was no better way to start it than doing it with Hunter.

“Why are you looking so… annoyingly happy? Do you like seeing me in this position?” Hunter asked as the second baby’s head popped out.

“Well, yeah. I do. You look hot,” I replied. Even though Hunter was in pain, he looked at me in surprise as the baby turned.

He didn’t respond and kept pushing, while I noticed the second baby was just as big as the first. The head was big, and the shoulders were broad. Although I was aware of Hunter’s discomfort, it all felt like a dream. As I placed my hands under our second baby to support him, I couldn’t help but smile, and tears of joy streamed down my face. I felt a bit silly for being so emotional, but what I had just witnessed was too amazing to contain my feelings.

Once the second baby’s feet had slid out of Hunter’s body, I heard him breathing heavily as he collapsed back on the couch, completely exhausted. He was holding our first baby so lovingly that it warmed my heart. It was as if a paternal instinct had been activated in Hunter’s mind, making him aware that he had to protect the baby. So, while I cleaned the second one, he softly caressed the first one.

“Another big and healthy boy,” I said with a big smile on my face as the second started crying loudly.

“I-I still can’t believe they came out of me… and… I think it’s over now?” Hunter said as he rubbed his deflated belly.

“I think the placenta still needs to come out, but after these two babies, I don’t think you’ll have any problems with that,” I said as I finished cleaning the second baby and placed him on Hunter’s free arm.

“He’s just as perfect as his older brother and just as big. No wonder my belly was so big and heavy,” Hunter said as he looked down at the babies, and the second one started nursing on his free nipple.

“We’re both big guys, so it was only logical we’d have big kids,” I smiled and caressed the babies’ hands.

“Do you really understand those words? We have kids. We’re both men. How are we going to… ugh… no, no, no… there’s another one?” He said, between groans, as he experienced more contractions.

“No, no, no, I think it’s the placenta. It shouldn’t be…” I was saying when the placenta came out of him, along with lots of fluids. “... easy for you. See? No more babies. You did it. You gave us two wonderful boys. And I couldn’t be prouder of you,” I said, kissing his cheek.

While our big baby boys were nursing on Hunter’s nipples, drinking the huge amount of milk his pecs had been producing, we remained silent for what felt like an eternity, just looking at our kids. I had no idea how we would explain the babies to our friends and family, but at that moment, all I cared about was Hunter and the kids in his arms. I wasn’t sure about Hunter’s feelings towards me now that we had kids together, but I knew we could make things work.

****

About an hour after the delivery of the placenta, our babies were peacefully sleeping in my bed, wrapped in improvised blankets made from our clothes and sheets. Hunter was lying next to them, still processing the fact that the babies had come out of his body. Then, I lay down right behind Hunter and carefully hugged him.

“We make handsome kids together, right?” I whispered, reaching over to Hunter to touch our babies’ hands.

“We do, but I still can’t believe they’re ours. I mean, how?” Hunter said as he slowly turned around to face me.

“Well, I think we both know how. When I fucked you and…” I said, and he chuckled.

“Ryan, you know what I mean. We’re both men. We’re just friends, and now we…” He said, but I interrupted him with a kiss.

“And now we have kids together. We’re a family,” I said as we looked into each other’s eyes. “You didn’t respond earlier, but I meant it when I said you’re the man I want. I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends anymore. I’ll be honest, I love you, Hunter. I know it’s not just lust because I’ve never felt like this before, and these kids helped me realize what true love feels like,” I added, and he started crying.

Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me into a passionate kiss that left me breathless. I didn’t need his words to understand he felt the same way as I did. I didn’t need him to tell me he also wanted us to become a family. After months of living under a ‘friends with benefits’ tag, we finally embraced our true feelings and showed them to each other.

“Ryan, I love you too. Despite the pain you put me through while giving birth to your kids, I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else but you,” he said as he wrapped his legs around my waist and guided one of my hands to his fat ass.

“Is this some kind of invitation to… have more kids?” I playfully said as I firmly grabbed his ass.

“Well, it’s still movie night, and we have a routine after the movie ends. Do as you want with me. We’re no longer just friends, so this ass belongs to you,” he said as our lips met again, and my hands kept playing with his ass.

“Let’s move to your room so we don’t wake the babies up,” I suggested as we continued making out. “Hmm, I love how movie night always ends like this.”

The End

[thatrandomwriter]

Jealousy

Billy Loomis x Reader

warnings: controlling relationship, violence, character death

summary: Billy gets jealous when reader has a male friend, and they get into a serious argument, prompting him to seek his revenge as Ghostface.

“The fuck was that?” Billy grabbed my arm as I walked out of the school building after last period.

“What do you mean?” I replied. I knew why he was annoyed, but I wanted to give him the chance to pick something more reasonable to be upset about.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop on the pavement, allowing other students to filter past us,. “Don’t play dumb with me - you were flirting with that dick Ryan all class.” his eyes were dark, angry. It wasn’t unlike him to fly into a jealous rage virtually unprompted, but the frequency of it made it no less frustrating.

“He’s my friend. And we sit next to each-other, what do you expect me to do, ignore him?” I felt my face heating up.

“I expect you not to flirt with other guys right in front of me,” he was almost shouting - I was sure that he would be, if we weren’t out in public.

“Oh my God, Billy, we weren’t flirting!”

“You can’t talk to him anymore.” Billy’s face was determined, unflinchingly serious.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” I moved to walk away, but his arms were on my shoulders, his face close to mine. My eyes flicked down to his lips - despite my anger, I still found him insanely attractive. He seemed to pick up on my moment of distraction, shaking his head at me.

“Come on, baby. Can’t you just listen to me? I know exactly what’s going on inside that guy’s head,” his voice softened a bit, and he leaned down to kiss me, gentle and persuasive. I felt my heartbeat quicken, but he pulled away after no more than a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, Billy. But you can’t ban me from talking to people, that’s not how this works,”

He turned away from me, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. If you want to act like a slut, be my guest, but just know that I won’t put up with that shit.”

The insult stung. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, but I blinked them away. “You know what, I’ve had enough of this. You can talk to me again when you realise how ridiculous you’re being, but until then, I’m done with this.” I marched away. He tried to pull me back towards him once again, but I shrugged away his hands. Maybe once he cooled off, we could fix this. Or maybe this was it for us. My tears returned at that thought, stinging and blurring my eyes as I walked home from school.

*

I was home alone when my phone rang, the harsh sound making me jump. I hoped that it was Billy, calling to make up with me, to apologise for being such a dick, and to tell me he understood. Or at least Tatum, so that I could complain about how he was yet to make up with me, and how awful he was being.

“Hello,” The voice was deep and unfamiliar.

“Hello, who is this?” I replied.

There was a chuckle from the caller, “Forgotten about me already? I’m hurt,”

“Billy, is that you? If you wanna talk, at least stop using that stupid voice,”

“You don’t make the rules anymore - this is my game. And trust me when I tell you, you don’t wanna lose.”

“Why not - are you gonna punish me?” I teased him, lighthearted, though a sense of dread was creeping over me. If it was Billy on the line, something felt different, and it wasn’t just the voice he was using.

“That’s exactly right. If you lose, I’ll make it slow, and painful, until you’re begging me to make it stop,”

There was a lump in my throat. My mouth was suddenly dry, “And if I win?” I managed to force the words out. It reminded me of what the police had been saying - that Ghostface had been using a voice changer to call his victims before they ended up dead. Scaring me like this was a sick way for Billy to punish me for our earlier argument.

“I’ll make it quick,”

“Billy, come on, this isn’t funny. Let’s just talk, okay?” My voice trembled slightly. I cleared my throat in an attempt to keep it steady, but it was useless, “We can work this out,”

“But we are working this out. What do you think this is? Now, are you ready to play?”

“No. I’m not playing your game,” I replied. The words were stronger than my tone, still shaky.

Billy, if it was him, tutted mockingly at me, “Forfeiting is an automatic loss. You sure you want to do that?”

“I’m sure. Just come and talk to me, please,” If I saw him in person, I could get through to him.

There was a click as he hung up the phone. And no more than a second later, the crashing sound of a window being smashed. This was not Billy; whoever it was had meant their threat, and was coming for me. I dropped the phone on my bed and sprung to my feet, running to my bedroom window. The drop was too far - but maybe I could climb up instead, onto the roof? Surely he wouldn’t think to look for me there. But there were footsteps on the stairs, far too fast, far too close. I had wasted precious seconds panicking and planning. The only place I could think to hide was under my bed - awfully cliche, surely the first place he would think to look, but maybe I could yank him over by the ankles from under there, and give myself enough of a head start to get out of the house. I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk and dropped to the floor, rolling under my bed just as a pair of black boots appeared around my doorframe. My unsteady breathing, or the sound of my heart thumping in my chest was sure to give me away, I was convinced of it. But he stepped closer and closer, until his toes were right by my face. I could see black robes hanging around his ankles, and without seeing the mask, I knew that it was Ghostface.

If I wanted to live, I had only one shot at this. With all my strength, I gripped his right ankle, and yanked it towards me. He hit the floor, hard, and I scrambled out from under the bed, running for the stairs. He seemed to have taken inspiration from my move, however, grabbing my ankle as I ran past. I landed on my elbows, inches away from a broken nose. The breath had been knocked out of my body. I could see the mask now, as Ghostface tried to stand, but I kicked at his shins, sitting up and desperately trying to scoot away from him. He still followed, yanking me to stand up with him, gripping tightly onto my wrist. I raised my scissors with my free hand, ramming them as hard as I could into his shoulder. The sensation made me want to throw up. But he let go of me, staggering backwards, and I took off again, out of my bedroom, into the hallway, down the stairs. I chanced a glance behind me - the scissors had not held up Ghostface for long. The white mask leered down at me from the landing. In his good arm, he had raised a knife. My hands felt empty, now that I had thrown away my last defence. I had to get out of the front door.

I ran, breath burning my lungs. Broken glass from the front window caught in one of my feet, and I stuttered, almost falling at the pain. Every step seemed to drive it deeper, but adrenaline kept me moving and I had no time to slow down; Ghostface was faster than me. Despite my head start, I could hear his breath behind me, and just as I had stepped out of the door, a gloved hand had grabbed my arm once again, this time with no chance of letting go. He pulled me back into the house, slamming me against a wall. I felt dizzy.

“Please, please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything, I’ll play your game, whatever you want,” My defiance was long gone.

“Oh, so now you want to do as I say?” The voice that came from under the mask was no longer deep and artificial. My eyes burned, and I felt a tear escape, rolling down my cheek. Billy brought his knife to my neck.

“Baby, please, I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve listened to you - you know what’s best, you were right, okay?”

“Don’t lie to me. You know I hate it when you lie to me,” His voice was devoid of any gentleness, any love. It felt just as unfamiliar as when he had been on the phone.

“I’m not lying, I swear,”

“You fucking stabbed me with a pair of scissors you bitch - we are long past you getting out of this alive,”

I tried to shove away at him, but all it succeeded in doing was pressing his knife further into my neck. He reached up slowly with his bad arm to lift the mask from his face. Hair hung wild in his face - I loved combing my fingers through it, pushing it to the side when it hung down so that I could look him in the eyes. Now, his eyes were dark and filled with what I could only describe as loathing. I wanted nothing more than to look away, but I was fixated on him, the way that his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twitched.

“Now, I want you to be able to see my face when this happens. I want you to look me in the eyes, and know how much you’ve hurt me - how much I wish you hadn’t made me do this,”

This felt absurd, it was utterly unreal, “You still don’t have to, please, we can forget about all this,”

Billy shook his head, leaning down until his lips met mine in a kiss. It was slow, deep - a goodbye. His free hand cupped the side of my face in what should have been a loving gesture. Maybe this could somehow make him realise that he didn’t want to lose me? That if he only kept me alive, I could make him happy. I kissed him back, and his knife lowered from my neck. His teeth grazed my bottom lip and I parted them for him, feeling him groan against me as he slid his tongue into my mouth. Tentatively, I reached my arm up around him, slow enough to communicate that I meant no harm. When he did not shove it away, I grabbed at the back of his clothes to pull him in closer, allowing the other hand to tangle in his hair. His kisses became faster, more desperate, stealing my breath with their intensity, and it was all I could do to keep up with him, the power of his tongue and his teeth slowly turning the fear I was feeling into desire. He pulled back for a second, eyes steady on mine as I panted slightly.

And then I felt cold, hard pressure in my stomach. I looked down. This kiss had been a goodbye after all, nothing more than a delusion, a distraction while he decided exactly where to place his knife. He kissed me again as he twisted the blade, swallowing my cry of pain. He kissed away the tears that fell down my cheeks, before yanking the knife out of me. My head span as pain overcame me - so much for adrenaline. I clutched the wound in my side, my hands soaking almost immediately.

“You’re so beautiful covered in blood, baby,” Billy’s eyes glittered as I slumped down the wall, legs giving out as I slid to the floor.

“Fuck you,” there was no point in niceties or persuasion - the deed was done. Patches of the world around me had gone shiny with dancing splotches. My heart was thundering and it was almost as if I could feel its rhythm in my wound as I attempted to contain the blood pouring out of it.

Billy chuckled, “I’d be a little nicer to the guy with the knife, if I were you,”

“What, or you’ll kill me faster?”

“Don’t be silly - that wasn’t part of the game. I can’t kill you faster, but I can make it a whole lot more painful,”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t,”

“You’d deserve it - you had my heart, you know that? And you decided to throw it away, to rip it apart and cause all of this, just so that you could flirt with another guy. I loved you. But no-one gets to treat me like that, to break my heart. No-one,” Billy was ranting, red faced, wielding his knife in a way that made me want to run, or at least step back. But I was trapped between him and the wall, the deep cut in my stomach prevented me even from standing. He crouched down, eyes level with mine. “God, I wish I’d known how good you’d look covered in blood. Maybe I would’ve done this sooner,”

I couldn’t help the sob that escaped my chest, the shake of it sending a jolt of pain through me.

“Come on, baby, don’t look so sad - I’m doing the right thing,” He caressed the side of my face with his knife, trailing it down from my cheek to my neck.

“Billy, I love you, please just call an ambulance, we can fix this,” I managed to choke out.

“We both know it’s too late for that.” Billy sat beside me, gently shifting my weight downwards so that my head could rest in his lap. He brushed the hair out of my face as the world fell away, and I was engulfed in darkness.

[wolfawaycamp]

Hello! I would like to request a realistic aftermath of the shotgun amputation ;)

🐰 Okay, so, this was discussed on Discord prior to Torch's request (thank you Torch!) and Cas really thought we should get to see Kaitlyn plucking buckshot out of Dylan's arm. You're not actually supposed to do that, but it IS realistic that a bunch of teens/young adults might not know that. This is another long one from me because I'm incapable of being brief, but so far I've I've gotten positive feedback on my 'ficlets' that are so long they're basically just one-shots. I started my Quarry fanfic writing career with chainsaw hurt/comfort, so of course I had to inject some of that here! Hope you enjoy! :3

*******

When Ryan shoots Dylan’s hand off with his shotgun on the floor of the radio hut, he really doesn’t have time to panic. Some kind of black venom is visibly spreading up Dylan’s arm and, at that moment, Ryan agrees that it needs to be stopped. So, he stops it. He doesn’t second guess that decision at the time, because something huge and ugly is stalking the two of them and their fellow counselors. The fact that he’s just blown the left hand off the boy he’s spent the better part of the evening casually flirting with, the one he kissed for the first time a few hours before, can barely sink in because he’s trying so hard to finish engineering the feedback loop and keep them all alive. But once he’s sounded that earsplitting noise and chased the immediate danger away, Ryan’s better able to take in the horror of the scene that remains.

Dylan lies in a pool of his own blood, and the unrecognizable lump of tissue that used to be a hand sits inches from the mutilated end of his wrist. There are holes in the floor where buckshot has passed through Dylan’s flesh and bone entirely and into the aged wood. Ryan, still fueled by adrenaline, tells him his plan worked. He is genuinely impressed with Dylan’s ingenuity.

“It did the trick,” he says, “Nice work, Dylan.”

The bloodied boy on the floor begins laughing in a way Ryan finds deeply concerning, as if he’s completely delirious, before the chaos in front of him seems to sober him up. “Oh fuck, my hand!” Dylan exclaims, like he’s just noticed it. “Why did you do that?!”

“You told me to!” Ryan bites back in disbelief.

Does he really not remember?

“That was a bad idea,” Dylan admits, still holding pressure to the bleeding stump of his left arm, “aw fuck.”

At that very moment, the door bursts open, scaring the absolute shit out of both the boys. It’s Kaitlyn, likely having heard the gunshot and certainly the sound that followed. She’s come to see what’s become of the two of them. 

Kaitlyn manages to get out the words, “You guys all right… in… here?” before she begins processing the gruesome scene in front of her. Ryan watches her take in the handless Dylan, the pool of blood, and the detached former hand in silence, her mouth hanging slightly open for a moment.

“‘Sup Kaitlyn?” Dylan drawls from the pool of blood he’s lying in. He gives her a slight nod as a greeting since his one remaining hand is busy holding back arterial spray from where his other hand was once attached.

“What the fuck?!” Kaitlyn says breathlessly, “what the fuck happened here?!” 

“I—he—that thing bit Dylan’s hand and I, uh…” Ryan struggles to explain the situation, struggles to even understand it himself. 

Kaitlyn looks from Dylan to Ryan and back again, over and over, finally clocking Ryan’s bloodied face and the shotgun in his hand. Her shock gives way to fury. “Oh—oh my god, Ryan, what the fuck have you done?!”

“He—” Ryan points at Dylan like a child tattling to an adult, “he told me to!”

“I would really like for the record to show,” Dylan says, entirely too steady for the state he’s in, “that I said ‘cut it off.’ Not shoot. Cut. There’s a perfectly good chainsaw right over there.” He jerks his head toward the workbench where the chainsaw sits along with the other power tools.

“Why?! Dylan, why on earth would you say that?!” Kaitlyn asks. She wheels around to face Ryan without giving Dylan a chance to answer, “and why would you listen to him?!”

Kaitlyn glares at Ryan like she might bite him. He thinks he would probably deserve that. He can’t seem to get a word out to explain why blasting a hand off with a shotgun seemed like a good idea at the time but, for better or worse, Dylan is still fairly talkative despite his devastating injury.

“Hey, it’s okay Kaitlyn,” Dylan says, trying his best to sound normal and not quite achieving it, “you kinda had to be here to get the full effect, I guess, but there was this black stuff going up my arm, and we had to stop it before it got any higher, and this did stop it! I’m okay, really… I mean, I’m not, but it doesn’t hurt. I don’t even feel it. Which is… weird, right? I feel like having your hand shot off should hurt more than this.”

“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Kaitlyn explains, “or else you’re going into shock. Either way you’re going to be in a world of hurt sooner or later. You’ve probably got a bunch of buckshot still in your arm. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t leave the two of you alone for a minute.”

Ryan thinks this is a somewhat unfair assessment of what they’ve accomplished here, given that Dylan’s plan and Ryan’s execution of it saved Kaitlyn’s ass as well as theirs. Dylan, for his part, laughs at Kaitlyn, because he’s apparently gone insane and lost all fear of death. Kaitlyn looks like she’s considering snatching Ryan’s gun, blowing Dylan’s head off, and calling it a total loss instead of trying to patch him up. She inhales deeply and lets it back out, as if meditative breathing will repair the rift in reality they’re currently experiencing.

“Ryan get the first aid kit,” she says, her tone more measured now, “we have to stop the bleeding before we move him, but if we can get Dylan down to the poolhouse, we’ll at least have running water to rinse this wound off. That’s where I sent Abi and Nick when I headed up here.” Kaitlyn kneels next to Dylan, then she grabs his arm roughly and he cries out in pain. “Stop moving so much!” she snaps, though the boy with the shot-off hand has barely moved a muscle.

“Fucking hell, Kaitlyn, be careful!” Ryan barks at her, and Kaitlyn’s head whips to the side to face him with a challenging look.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ryan, should I be as careful as you were when you turned Dylan’s hand into raw fucking meatloaf?” The boys are speechless at her outburst.

Wow, Kaitlyn’s being a kind of a bitch, Ryan thinks, and then it clicks in Ryan’s head that she’s not actually angry, not at him or at Dylan, she’s afraid. This is what fear looks like on Kaitlyn Ka, who he’d mistakenly thought was fearless. It’s raw and ferocious. Other than Jacob, who she’s known most of her life, Dylan’s the person she’s closest to at camp. Kaitlyn expresses her concern like a mother bear and if Ryan isn’t careful he really might get mauled by her before whatever the fuck bit Dylan gets a chance to sink its teeth into him.

Kaitlyn fashions a tourniquet out of bandages and a screwdriver, warning Dylan that it’s going to hurt, and Dylan winces as she twists the metal tool over and over to tighten it around his forearm, just below his elbow. She hands him a bottle of what appears to be ibuprofen from the nurse’s station, saying it’s the last of the supply after she gave some to Nick. 

“Ooh, fun,” Dylan says, throwing back the pills and swallowing them dry, and Ryan can feel Kaitlyn rolling her eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

The bleeding appears to stop, though there’s so much blood already that it’s difficult to tell. It seems stable enough that the three of them can set out for the poolhouse. Dylan is a bit wobbly at first but once he gets a few steps in he seems steady on his feet. Kaitlyn and Ryan flank him with Kaitlyn on the left holding onto his injured arm. Ryan carries the first aid kit with him, even though there’s another one in the poolhouse. It can’t hurt to have more supplies.

On the way, they get into a minor argument about whether the pellets of buckshot from the shotgun shell should be removed from Dylan’s arm or left in. Ryan thinks they should come out, he’s seen that in a number of TV shows and movies and while he knows those aren’t always accurate, he doesn’t think it seems right to leave foreign bodies in a wound. Kaitlyn is more hesitant. She knows that doctors will remove pellets from wounds but if they’re deep they might do more damage trying to remove them. In the end, Dylan says it’s his arm and therefore they’re his buckshot pellets and he should get a say, and he thinks they should compromise and get the ones that seem close enough to the surface to grab with tweezers and leave the others.

When the three of them make it into the poolhouse, Abi has Nick laid out by the showers, resting on a stack of rolled towels. She turns to them, saying “I was wondering when you guys would…” and is cut off at the sight of Dylan’s bloody arm stump. She shrieks. “Oh my god, ohh my god Dylan, what happened?!” Abi is keeping her eyes off of Dylan’s arm. She looks like she might cry, or faint, and Ryan watches, stunned, as Dylan tries to comfort her instead of the other way around.

“It’s okay Abi,” he says, a little too jovially, “just a flesh wound.”

“It’s literally not,” Ryan corrects him, thinking of the bits of bright white bone he could see in the remains of Dylan’s obliterated hand, and Dylan shakes his head at him to keep him from saying anything else.

Kaitlyn explains the situation much more succinctly than either of the boys could, then she sends Abi to find the poolhouse first aid kit while she and Ryan drag Dylan over to the sinks to rinse his wound in warm water. Dylan flinches when they direct the flow of the water over the end of his wrist but he doesn’t pull away. As the coagulated blood is rinsed away, Ryan can see exposed bone at the end of Dylan’s arm and several perfectly round holes that, as Kaitlyn predicted, almost certainly contain pieces of buckshot. The sight of it makes his stomach clench with guilt and worry.

Kaitlyn sits on the floor, picking through the two first aid kits for what she needs. She assembles gauze, more bandages, a small set of forceps, only slightly larger than standard tweezers, that Ryan assumes were intended for pulling splinters out of campers, some rubbing alcohol, an empty glass bottle she’s found to corral the pellets in—Ryan thinks it likely once contained apple juice, though the label has been peeled off—and a lidocaine spray intended for sunburns. It’s the best they have, under the circumstances.

Kaitlyn tells Ryan to join her on the floor and instructs Dylan to essentially sit between Ryan’s legs. Dylan raises an eyebrow at this and Ryan sighs and gestures at him to hurry up. Dylan sits where he’s told.

“This is not going to be fun,” Kaitlyn warns Dylan, then she looks to Ryan and says, “you’re going to have to hold him down, hold his arm still so I don’t cause any more damage.” 

Ryan swallows and holds Dylan’s left arm down, pinning it between his own arm and his bent knee with his hand steadying the wounded forearm just below the wrist. He reaches over Dylan’s right shoulder with his right arm and presses his hand to the middle of the injured boy’s chest, encouraging Dylan to lean back against him. It’s already pretty intimate, with Dylan's head resting on Ryan’s shoulder, and then Dylan grabs Ryan’s hand with his and interlocks their fingers, needing something to hold onto.

“Okay,” Dylan tells Kaitlyn, “let’s get this over with.”

Kaitlyn dunks the forceps in the rubbing alcohol and sprays around the wound and all the pellet holes she can find with the lidocaine spray. It’s not very strong, and she tells Dylan it’s only going to numb the surface, everything below that he’s going to feel. He nods, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and Kaitlyn gets to work.

The first pellet is close to the surface and Ryan watches it pop out of Dylan’s skin easily with the fascination some people feel for those pimple extraction videos online. Kaitlyn drops it into the glass bottle where it makes a satisfying plinking sound.

“Oh!” says Dylan, that wasn’t so—OW!” He’s spoken too soon, and before Dylan can finish his statement, Kaitlyn has gone back in for another pellet. This one must be deeper, she has to fish around where the anesthetic spray hasn’t been able to reach before it comes out. Dylan has a vice-grip on Ryan’s hand by the time this one joins the other in the glass bottle.

“Two down,” Kaitlyn says, “only… six or so to go?”

“Awesome,” Dylan says sarcastically, and even in the dim light of the poolhouse, Ryan thinks he looks paler than usual.

Dylan is clearly in pain now as Kaitlyn digs for buckshot in his forearm and Ryan feels terrible about the choices he’s made. He’d thought the shotgun would be cleaner than the chainsaw, leave less chance for infection than a rusty tool Chris Hackett uses to carve up firewood, but Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to think it would’ve make that big a difference. She had warned him about the shotgun’s spread earlier, and though he’d taken the shot pretty close to his target, they certainly wouldn’t be playing this very advanced game of Operation right now if he’d gone for the chainsaw instead. On top of everything, the light from Abi’s phone flashlight keeps wavering, making it difficult for Kaitlyn to see what she’s doing.

“For fuck’s sake, Abi, can’t you hold that thing steady?!” Ryan snaps before he can stop himself.

“Ryan!” Kaitlyn chastises him as another pellet of buckshot clinks into the glass bottle.  

“I’m trying! You know the sight of blood makes me nauseous!” Abi nearly sobs the words and Ryan immediately feels bad, realizes he can, in fact, feel even worse than he had a moment ago. He’d forgotten how much she hates blood. She’d nearly fainted earlier in the summer when one of her campers had a nosebleed. It’s a rough night for all of them, certainly roughest for Dylan and Nick, but Ryan finds some sympathy for Abi—it’s a particularly bad night for anyone who hates the sight of blood.

“Sorry,” he mutters lamely.

“It’s all right,” Abi says, “I’ll try to do better.”

Ryan doesn’t think of himself as having a particularly comforting presence, but for Dylan he does his best, murmuring a steady stream of reassuring nonsense like he might if his little sister crawled in bed with him after having a nightmare back home. “It’s okay,” he says, “it’s okay, you’re okay. Just hang on, all right?This’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. Just stay with me, Dylan. I’m here. I’m right here and I’ve got you.” 

It’s bullshit, he knows it and Dylan probably knows it too—his wounded friend is in bad shape and Ryan hasn’t got shit, nothing is under control and nothing is okay, but Dylan squeezes his hand, his head turned so the right side of his face is pressed against Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan can tell he’s trying very hard to be brave. Dylan holds back from crying out for the most part, expressing his pain through bitten off groans that he tries but can’t quite silence. Occasionally, he sucks air through his teeth and swears. Dylan’s trembling a little and sweating and he sniffles from time to time because he can’t keep the tears from streaming down his face, dampening the fabric of Ryan’s Cult Damage t-shirt.

Kaitlyn digs for a pellet at the very end of Dylan’s wrist, and he’s completely quiet for a moment, then he goes limp in Ryan’s arms.

“Oh, shit. Dylan?” Ryan hears the panic in his own voice when he speaks.

“Fuck, he passed out.” Kaitlyn pats at Dylan’s cheek, not all that gently but not quite hard enough to qualify as a smack. It does nothing to rouse him. Her fingers press into the side of his neck to feel his pulse, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned with whatever she finds there. Ryan can feel Dylan breathing, but he’s terrified by this development just the same.

“What? Why would that happen?!” He demands of Kaitlyn. “Why now?”

“I don’t know!” Kaitlyn says, “Pain, I guess. Shock? Maybe that last pellet was near a nerve? I barely scraped a B in anatomy.”

“Blood loss?” Abi offers, her expression grave. She looks over at Nick, who adjusts his position a little, and then turns her attention back to Dylan.

“Let’s just get this finished,” Kaitlyn says, “then we can get him cleaned up.” 

She plucks three more pellets from Dylan’s arm, dropping them into the bottle, and then declares that if there are any more, he’ll need an x-ray to find them and trying to dig for them blindly would do way more harm than good. She sends Abi to the sink for a couple of wet washcloths and Kaitlyn wipes down Dylan’s arm while Abi dabs at his face.

Dylan begins to stir, finally, as Kaitlyn is working to bandage his wound. Ryan watches his face intently as he comes around, his brows scrunching and relaxing, eyes moving behind his closed lids. He groans softly before his eyes flutter open and he blinks up at Ryan, seeming to search Ryan’s face for clues as to what the fuck is even happening right now. 

“Dylan,” Ryan says, relief washing over him, “hey! You’re awake.” 

“G’morning Hacketteers,” Dylan rasps weakly, his voice a pale imitation of the one that has boomed out over the PA all summer. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cap’n Crunch,” Kaitlyn says, rattling the bottle of pellets, “it’s the ‘Oops! All Buckshot’ flavor, unfortunately.”

“Oh, no thanks,” Dylan snorts, “I’m full.” He looks down at the bandaged end of his left forearm. “Though… less full than I used to be, apparently.”

Dylan’s jokes are as obnoxious as ever and Ryan is thanking the cosmic space gods that he’s coherent enough to make them.

As Kaitlyn finishes taping up the bandages, Dylan looks down at his remaining hand and seems to realize it’s still loosely entwined with Ryan’s. He grips Ryan’s hand and Ryan squeezes his right back.

“Thanks you guys,” Dylan says, almost uncharacteristically earnest, and Ryan is reminded of their conversation about his blasé persona and ‘Dylan-Dylan,’ which feels like it happened weeks ago.

“Don’t mention it,” Kaitlyn says with a smile, “just, never do anything this stupid again if you can help it, please.”

Dylan nods. Ryan doesn’t really need to hold onto him anymore, but he is just the same.

“I’m just glad you’re still with me, buddy,” Ryan says in a half whisper.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. You know how the old saying goes, ‘hand a man a gun, he shoots for a day, shoot a man’s hand off with your gun and you have to, um, let him hold your hand in the hand that he has left. Forever. Or at least for one date. But probably forever.’”

“Yeah,” Ryan deadpans, “I can see how that became a proverb for sure. Real snappy.”

Kaitlyn bursts out laughing. Even Abi giggles at this, putting a hand on Dylan’s shoulder before hurrying back over to check on Nick.

“What? He can shoot my hand off but I can’t shoot my shot? Seems unfair. I—”

Dylan’s words are cut off when Ryan leans down and kisses him on the mouth, his hands pressing to either side of Dylan’s face. It’s the only thing he can think to do to express his relief and concern and gratitude at that moment, to say that he’s sorry but also not. And another feeling is in the mix there, something soft but undeniable and deeply unfamiliar, something that, Ryan’s terrified to realize, might actually be love.

“Let’s save our strength with some quiet time, hm?” he says, still holding Dylan’s face in his hands.

Dylan looks back at him, awestruck. He nods, slowly, and then there’s a gunshot outside. A howl of inhuman agony follows and then a splash. 

Something big has just landed in the pool.

[are-you--cereal]

SoOoo seeing as i played the quarry recently…

THIS GAME WAS CRAY CRAYY!!!

alsooo this is my opinion - and is ofc going to be based on my play through which may be different from yours!!

i rlly enjoyed it!!! but… i wayyyy preferred until dawn, (sorry to compare the twooo) it was great - but i felt like the story was all over the place, could’ve just been me not finding every clue, which i didn’t miss too many i think i missed like 2 hackett family clues, 2/3 camp clues, like 3 freak show clues. oops!! personally i felt like there was so much going on at once, i found the whole freak show thing to be super unexplained and rushed?? the tarot cards felt kind of out of place, but saying that, i loved that they were included - thought it was a super unique and fun touch that did kind of pull in the whole freak show/ fortune teller vibe. i think they could’ve made that a bit more prevalent tho, as it was sort of a side note and i understand that it was like something none of the characters knew abt, but i found it so odd that it wasn’t discussed like at all?! or even just discussed more later, towards the end after finding more of the clues so that they were learning along the way with us!! the end was so rushed in my opinion like travis had been hunting silas for 6 years and never found him, but with laura and ryan they just stumbled across him?! and put all the clues together like that?! so weird to me. also the hag of hacketts quarry loved her - but it just was like so weird - you have werewolves and a silas’s ghost mum hanging abt. she was a good inclusion - as it ties in to the tarot cut scenes, but idk just felt a bit unnecessary - as in my opinion it doesn’t further the plot too much and she’s just there for more jump scares.

and it felt like more of a film than a game yk?? also it was kinda janky looking like their necks moved freakishly lol

anywhooo loved the whole gang and i managed to keep everyone -playable- alive YIPPEE!! BUTTTT what rlly annoyed me was that even tho i got alllll the evidence the gang was arrested, yeah they were let out but wtff?!

tbh i’m gonna try and play again and get all the clues!! if you have any opinions that differ pls share id love to hear <3

[monsterrae1]

Hello lovely Rae! 💖 for the hesitant love prompts: "what can I get you? do you need water? a hug? space?" Pretty pls 💕

Ryan, Baby, I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this! Things have been, well, they've been better. Hope you like this!

_

Eddie Diaz had been shot more times than anyone should’ve been in one lifetime, he had been to war, he had been buried alive under 40ft of mud, he had nearly drowned while getting himself out of said 40ft of mud, he had survived so many near death experiences, but the tuesday night his appendix decided to burst? Eddie thought for sure he was going to die. 

It really came out of nowhere, he hadn’t been feeling bad at all, no fevers, no nausea, no abdominal pain, he had been completely fine one moment, helping out their vic into the ambulance and calming the nerves of the partner who had never seen a broken leg before, and the next thing he knew he was doubling over in pain, throwing up into the asphalt, his insides feeling like they were tearing open. 

If he didn’t know better he’d think that he had been shot again. 

Bobby and Chim were by his side in an instant asking him what was wrong, and if anything had happen, Eddie could only shake his head, but as soon as they tried to move him, he was hit with another wave of excruciating pain and dropped to the floor, curling into himself. That’s when he felt a couple of big hands cradle his head and brush their fingers over his cheeks.

“Eddie? Eddie, what's wrong?” Buck asked him, and Eddie made an effort to open his eyes again. 

“Hurts, stomach, i don’t know” He grumbled, wishing it would just stop. 

Bobby must’ve called for a second rig because next thing Eddie knew he was being rolled into a gurney and transported to the ER, 

“What the hell is wrong with him, chim?” Buck asked from next to him, Eddie was holding into his hand tight enough that he might’ve done some damage. 

“My best guess? Appendicitis?” 

The last thought of Eddie’s head was, oh fuck, before pain made him pass out. 

Next time he opened his eyes he was staring at the hospital’s room ceiling, he tried to move but he felt the very distinct pull of stitches in his abdomen.

“Ugh” He tried to say, but his throat was too dry.

“We’ll be home soon, ok, bud? Be good for Carla” Eddie turned his head following the sound of Buck’s voice, he had his back to Eddie, and was still wearing his uniform, he had his phone on his ear, and nodding along to whatever Chris was saying on the other side “I will bud, I’ll let you know when the doctor tells me anything, okay?”

“Buck?” Eddie tried again, this time managing to make more noise and startling Buck and making him turn around “What happen?” 

“Hey” He said softly “How are you feeling?” 

Eddie frowned, making a mental check of himself, his thoughts were too fuzzy for him to make a proper check, but he didn’t feel like his stomach was being torn open so he figured that was good.

“Alive?”  He ended up saying, making Buck laugh. 

“Yeah, gave us quite the scare there buddy” 

Eddie smiled at him “Sorry, when can we go home?” 

“Tomorrow maybe” 

Eddie hummed and closed his eyes “Chris waiting for you?” 

“Yeah, I’m picking up dinner from that Italian place you pretend you don’t like? Sorry you’re gonna miss out” 

“Mean” 

Buck was still laughing when Eddie fell back asleep. 

He ended up staying at the hospital for 2 days, it wasn’t by far his longest stay at the hospital but towards the second day he was already climbing the walls, he was fine, he was ready to go after the first 24 hours, but because his incision was slightly red and swollen. He was fine, the doctors were just annoying. 

“C’mon” Buck said, guiding Eddie into the house, he would’ve complained that he didn’t need the help, but the truth was that he kinda did. It was too early for him to be heading to bed, so he asked Buck to set him up on the sofa where he could watch Buck tinker around the kitchen or play video games if he got bored. 

“You’re all set up” Buck said once Eddie was laying down on the sofa, his back being supported with what seemed like every pillow in the house, “I’m gonna get you a snack in a second, what else can I get you? Do you need water? A hug? Space?” 

Eddie stared at him for a second “You know what, a hug would be nice” 

Buck chuckled, helping Eddie sit up and wrapped him in his arms, Eddie rested his head on Buck’s shoulder and breathed him in. 

“Thank you Buck, for everything you do for us” 

Buck hummed “You I love it, I love helping you guys out” 

Eddie hugged him tighter for a minute, promising himself that once he was better, he was going to tell Buck just how much he meant to him.

[ninja-muse]

April was not a good reading month but wow, was it a writing month! I spent a lot of my home-based reading time working on my current WIP instead, so I’m trying not to have regrets about how much I didn’t read. I also didn’t truly manage to read anything off my physical TBR, but I’d wanted to reread The Goblin Emperor since I finished it the first time and so technically that’s off my TBR now?

My main bookish achievement this month, besides reading The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi, was pulling off another Indie Bookstore Day at work a couple days ago. I had help, my coworkers are awesome, I wasn’t organizing or running it alone or anything, but it’s still a lot of work to put together a party while handling the regular bookstore day-to-day, and then there’s set-up and twice the customers on the day and the tear-down which took all of yesterday…. I did unhaul a bunch of my unread ARCs for a book giveaway as part of this, which I’m very glad about. That’s really going to help my end-of-year stats, I think. (I also unhauled a few of my read ARCs that I was keeping for … some reason?)

And I accidentally bought two books. A Long Day in Lychford was a planned buy, but I got a gift card from my parents for Easter, which went impulsively towards The Gashlycrumb Tinies, and then yesterday I bought some bookish things for a little one and somehow the Pratchett bio found itself in my stack. No idea how that happened. 😅 No regrets, either.

May is going to be a lot like April, I think, or at least it hopefully will involve more writing than reading when I’m home. I’d like to ride the inspiration as far as it’ll take me, after all. It’s also going to be like April in that I’m waiting for the library to come through with a lot of my holds. I’m tag-teaming on a few of them, with physical and e-book reserves. I have no idea what I’ll read when I’m done the ones I’m working on now.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi - Shannon Chakraborty

Amina, mother, retired pirate, signs up for one last job. She should have known better.

8/10

multiracial Muslim protagonist, Indian secondary character, Middle Eastern secondary characters, Muslim and Hindu secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay, gender-questioning), Muslim author

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen - KJ Charles

Days after Gareth ruins his chances with a charming stranger, he finds himself elevated to an estate in the country—and threatened by smugglers a few towns over. Fortunately (or not), the head of the local smugglers is very familiar….

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonists (gay), Black British protagonist and secondary character, African-American secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (not gendered)

warning: child abuse and neglect, mild sexual assault

Once Upon a Tome - Oliver Darkshire

A Millennial offers a behind-the-scenes look at rare bookselling.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 author

Tasting History - Max Miller

A cookbook featuring historical recipes reworked for a modern kitchen.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 author

Episode Thirteen - Craig DiLouie

A ghost hunting show is the first to investigate the most haunted house in America. It’ll be fine.

7/10

African-American secondary character, 🇨🇦

Eight Strings - Margaret DeRosia

Franco escapes his childhood home to apprentice as a puppeteer and reunites with an old friend, which might mean hope for the future—or his destruction.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (trans man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian, sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 author, 🇨🇦

A Sleight of Shadows - Kat Howard

Sydney sacrificed much to destroy the violent House of Shadows and rebalance the Unseen World of New York—but it looks like the House may not be entirely gone.

6.5/10

African-American secondary character, Latina secondary character

Picture Books

We Don’t Lose Our Class Goldfish - Ryan T. Higgins

Penelope Rex has to look after Walter the goldfish but he scares her.

Grandad’s Pride - Harry Woodgate

When Milly finds a rainbow flag in her grandad’s attic, she learns he hasn’t been to a Pride since before Gramps died—so she finds a way for him to have one.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (the whole spectrum), 🏳️‍🌈 author

Reread

The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison

Maia suddenly finds himself Emperor of the Elflands and must find a way to be true to himself while navigating thorny court politics.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay)

Currently reading:

Magisteria - Nicholas Spencer

A history of the interactions between science and religion. Out in May.

The Sinister Booksellers of Bath - Garth Nix

The booksellers of Bath must rescue Merlin after he’s trapped in a map—which might mean taking on an unknown Entity.

🏳️‍🌈 main character (genderqueer), Black British secondary character

Stats

Monthly total: 7+1 Yearly total: 44/140 Queer books: 4 Authors of colour: 0 Books by women: 4 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 2 Off the TBR shelves: .5 Books hauled: 3 ARCs acquired: 7 ARCs unhauled: 14 DNFs: 0

January February March

[calypso707]

Chapter seven : Stand by me.

Jill was trying to come to her senses, to quell the fear that had overwhelmed her when she thought she was dead for good. She struggled to get back on her feet, her whole body, but especially her ribs, ached so much that she thought she was going to pass out from the pain. She saw Chris running down the side stairs of the building he had used earlier to get to the roof.

"Chris..." the call of his name sounded like a relief between her lips.

She staggered as she tried to reach him, her hand pressed against her left side. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Chris threw his machine gun on the floor to catch Jill against him, holding her tightly in his arms to keep her from failing. She clung to him as if he were a lifeline, praying that he would pull her out of this nightmare and onto solid ground, keeping herself from bursting into tears. She breathed a sigh of relief as she rested her forehead against the captain's shoulder. She had been so scared and he had saved her, once again.

"I've got you, Jill, I've got you. I'm here." Chris breathed against the young woman's temple. "I thought I was losing you, again."

She pressed her fingers into the fabric of his black turtleneck, she didn't want to let go. She had been so afraid of not seeing him again. Chris was pulling away from her slightly, but only so he could examine her thoroughly, to check that she had no serious injuries. He ran his thumb over the wound on her right cheekbone, the touch, brief and delicate as it was, soothing her for a moment. Behind them, Piers and Ricky could be heard coming down the metal stairs to join them. Jill finally lifted her gaze to look at Chris: "That woman.. She said the gas was the cause of all this.. Bindi she.."

She couldn't even get the sentences right, she closed her eyes for a few seconds, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Chris put his hands around her face to get her attention, which worked: "Jill, are you hurt?"

Their eyes locked again, Jill put her hand on Chris', almost intertwining her fingers with his. She took several deep breaths as she continued to stare at him, it seemed to help her regain her composure. She shook her head slowly and replied "No, I'm fine. I'm better now. Did you manage to stop Nanan?"

"No, we had to run away," Chris finally replied, "We quickly realised that her gas was dangerous, the narrow corridors of the health center did not allow us to deal with it properly. We retreated."

Jill nodded and looked over Chris' shoulder, noticing that Merah was missing. She feared the worst and she glanced over at Piers, "Where is Merah?"

"We got separated. Last I heard, she was on her way to the cathedral," Piers informed her.

"We need to get to her as soon as possible, if she's up against Nanan or Bindi she won't stand a chance," added Ricky.

"Jill, I think you've got a hit," added Piers.

Jill was pulling away from Chris as he took his machine gun back from Ricky. There, a few feet away from them, the giant was slowly getting to his feet, steam rising from his body. He was completely impervious to attack, so they had to find a way to blow up that bastard. Just like in Raccoon City, it was the only way to get rid of him. Definitely. Jill picked up her gun again and changed the magazine as she stared at the Tyrant: "Someone blew up our chopper."

"What? Are you sure?" questioned Chris, bewildered.

"Positive. I managed to get Ryan, for a few seconds but he..." She didn't finish her sentence, but the others knew exactly what she meant. "We're trapped here, we need to find a way out"

"Fuck..." blurted Chris, "There's an emergency helicopter in the basement of the academy. Mother Gracia gave Ricky the access code before she died."

Jill started to take a few steps to the side, she seemed to be assessing the giant, trying to figure a way stop him, "This asshole is after me, I’ll get him away from you and-" She stopped as she felt pressure on her wrist, Chris holding her back firmly.

"I'm staying with you," Chris said, his tone unmistakable. He turned to Piers and Ricky, "You two go find Merah. We clearly can't clear the area on our own, we'll meet in the underground control room. Jill and I are going to get rid of him”

Piers and Ricky both nodded and ran off in the direction of the cathedral. Jill stared at Chris for a long time, so much was going on in her head and in her heart. But she couldn't take the time to enjoy the moment. Her focus returned to the Tyrant who was approaching them at a slow pace, she raised her gun at him, finger on the trigger : "Follow us if you can, asshole!"

[lost-at-hacketts-quarry]

At least one (1) other person is interested in BATB Furblyg, so here's some ideas I'm spit-balling now or have had for awhile

Abi is absolutely Belle and Nick is The Beast/Prince Adam. Thinking about the Disney storyline specifically:

Prince Adam was cursed as a fucking 11 year old because he wouldn't let a stranger come into his house. He's not the shallow and pompous prick he's made out to be but that's a whole other soapbox for another day-

In terms of Nick, Silas is who bit him iirc, so I can already connect that to Eliza.

From here on is mostly being made up on the spot so apologies for the messiness: Nick is insecure and unsure of who he is, often falling in line with whoever he's around- and that's completely understandable- but maybe this is why Eliza curses him.

Going with the idea of Prince Adam/Nick being cursed as a child, perhaps Silas and him were campers at HQ and Silas was being picked on (maybe for his albinism) and Nick didn't step in to help. Nick was too scared to do anything to help his acquaintance and I could see her using this as a reason to curse him.

"So you were too scared of being targeted to stand up for him? Very well...I'll make sure you're always the target of taunting."

Keeps the fact that him being cursed was unfair, but still gives a plot reason on why he was cursed. There isn't a time limit persay, but Nick assumes that he's stuck like this forever.

Nick's curse ends up just making him look like the infected stage in TQ constantly, BUT he does wolf out like in TQ on full moons. He does not have a "normal" human form though. Nick also becomes more agitated and like his infected self in the game in the day or so leading up to the full moon, is completely out of control the night of the full moon, and is finally mentally himself again the following morning. Nick does retain memories from the hours BEFORE his transformation though, albeit a bit foggy.

Obviously distraught, Nick runs away and ends up living in an abandoned cabin in the Hackett woods. His parents file a missing person case but nothing really comes up from it. Nick didn't want to be found anyway, and eventually the international investigation was dropped and assumed a tragic accident. Idk how HQ stayed up and running but let's say it did.

Eventually while living alone, Nick ends up befriending a few campers over the years. Said campers sneak off during their summer trip to HQ and visit him almost every day with the exception of full moons. They bond and grow together over the years and eventually come back as counselors (get ready for my fun segue).

These are the main Hacketteers (minus Abi)! Cogsworth is Ryan and Lumiere is Dylan, but I'm unsure how I want to assign the others. Part of me thinks making Kaitlyn and Jacob Mrs. Potts and Chip would be funny (same with Laura and Max), but part of me is unsure. I also kiiiiiiiiiinda wanna make Jacob Gaston, but I'm undecided about that. Maybe there will be no rival love interest.

Anyway, Abi never went to HQ as a camper and her first time there is as a counselor! One day while trying to find one of her kids' favorite stuffed animals, she gets lost and ends up deep in the woods. Unfamiliar with the area and with night coming, she decides to approach and take refuge in the "abandoned" cabin in the distance.

Entering the cabin, she eventually stumbles upon a young man with yellow eyes...

N: "You need to leave. Now."

A: "Oh my God- I-I'm sorry I didn't think anyone was here. Wait, why are you slumped like that? Are you injured?"

N: "Go away."

A: "...if you're not injured, come into the light..."

N: [sighing, he steps into the ray of moonlight cast from the hole in the ceiling he fixed once upon a time, but eventually let fall into disrepair again]

A: "Oh...my God..."

N: "Now go."

Abi then runs off and manages to find her way back to camp, but neither her or Nick forget about that encounter and an unexpected friendship will emerge over the Summer months.

I lowkey wanted to make their first meeting a full moon BUT before a full transformation and then have Nick snap at her after trying to warn her to stay away. If I go with this idea, this will lead Abi to trying to find the cabin again after a few days to apologize to Nick for not listening, which works great for Nick because he was going to try to find the "red haired girl who smelled nice" again to apologize for what happened. Despite his appearance, he's still overall a really gentle person and didn't want to frighten her. If you made it to the end, thank you :)

[oakwolves]

What's an au you'll never write but still think about alot?

Gilded allegro frozen AU. essentially Ryan is older and assumes Anna’s role while Grace is younger but assumes Elsa’s role in the story. I would say Ryan carries Anna's personality more and Grace does with Elsa's tbh. I havent seen frozen since I was like 12 and I don't really see myself writing a fic about it. I did draw something related to it though (please ignore that I fucked up with the ages)

I actually wrote a long thread about it on my priv twitter that I'm gonna transcribe under the cut. I tweaked a few things about the story lol

I think little Grace didn't quite know how to make awesome snowballs and snowman yet, she just watch Ryan do them and try to copy him. She ends up making a tiny... kind of bell shaped... snow creature with two little rocks for eyes and no other appendages.

Grace looked a little disappointed that her snow-thing didn't look as cool as Ryan's but Ryan's like nooo it’s ok look! We can call it Kez... the snow...bell. And that seems to satisfy Grace for a while.

so everything more or less happens the same in canon (I guess you could assume Grace was adopted into the family?) Either way, Ryan (8) convinces Grace (7) to sneak out into the playroom late at night so they could fool around with Grace's snow powers. And Grace is just so delighted to spend time with her big brother and all, but Ryan gets a little too reckless and nearly slips and falls to his death. Grace narrowly manages to cushion his fall... but not before accidentally striking him in the head with the magic.

Things continue to progress as normal, Grace and Ryan's parents take them to those magical rock trolls to undo the effects of Graces magic and warn them that Ryan should never find out about her powers to keep this from ever happening again.

(to account for Ryan's other siblings, they were sworn to secrecy). So Ryan and Grace more or less grow up isolated within the castle. As far as Ryan knows, they had an accident playing in the snow outside, and now Grace doesn't seem to want to play with him anymore.

And the poor guy blames himself for scaring his sister and he wants to do anything to make it up to her. But poor Gracie, sworn to secrecy, just continues to push him away. And as much as that hurt Ryan, that never stopped him from trying throughout the years

Growing up, Ryan took up things like sword fighting and playing whatever the 19th century version of a guitar is to occupy himself (and also prepare to succeed the throne one day). He became really skilled in swordfighting over the years but his true passion lie in his guitar. It was his source of comfort where he felt painfully isolated.

At some point Grace + Ryan's family went to visit distant relatives overseas. Grace stayed home because she was sick, and Ryan insisted on staying home because he didn't want her to be alone. Of course, like in canon, tragedy strikes, and their family unfortunately perished in a storm, and the two grieved alone.

Eventually came the time for Ryan (now 21) to take the throne as king. Of course, he's estatic because he gets to see other people for the first time in YEARS. Meanwhile poor Grace (now 20) is just TERRIFIED because she's worried about exposing her powers to the public or even worse. To Ryan. But she figures as long as she keeps her gloves on, she'll be fine, and once the coronation ends she'll retreat back to her room

And then you've got Ryan practically skipping, jumping, and dancing all over the palace excited for his coronation... then he bumps into someone at the docks.

She's a beautiful young woman with flowing blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her name is Camila, the only daughter in a long line of sons. Ryan's absolutely enthralled by her. He even asks her to marry him, which she...surprisingly accepts!

The coronation happens as expected and Ryan is declared king and all... then he decides to announce his engagement to Camila! The audience is initially surprised but happy about this announcement... except for Grace. When Ryan is allowed to go into the crowd, he finds Camila. Grace intercepts the two, asking Ryan what the hell is going on, why has he decided to marry (and subsequently make queen) a woman he just met?? The two begin to argue, causing a commotion in the room.

Ryan insists that as King he can marry anyone he wants, not that Grace would even care, shutting her own brother out all these years despite his efforts to get through to her!! This upsets Ryan to the point of leaving the ball in the middle of the party. Camila tries to go after him, and Grace confronts him. In her desperation, grabs on to his arm. When Ryan pulls away from her, the action sets Grace off enough to accidentally expose her powers to Ryan and the other guests.

Terrified, she flees the area before anyone can apprehend her.

Aaaaand that's as far as I got in the AU

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Alexandra's Evolution Chapter Five: Meltdown at Madame Tussaud's - Part Two

Fandom: Primeval Wordcount: 4.2k Warnings: None

The team continue their investigation into Madame Tussauds, and later find themselves called out to the New Forest on another of Connor's hunches

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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If the streets outside had been unusually clear, the wax museum itself is unnervingly empty. Empty of real people, that is. The wax statues are worse than if the building was totally cleared out, every corner holding another three, four surprises. They haven’t even gotten past the entry hallway. There aren’t a lot of lights on, despite a lack of windows, which just makes the place spookier. The soldiers leading the group have strapped torches to their guns. The scientists have been trusted with torches too.

“Never been to Madame Tussauds.” Abby whispers. The others are grateful for it, the constant quiet buzzing of all the lights and heaters disconcerting.

“Neither have I.” Alex whispers back.

“Don’t think we missed out on much.” Abby admits, moving her torch to illuminate a figurine's face and visibly shivering at the clear sight of it.

“Hm. I dunno, I tend to like statues, but I’m not entirely sure wax is the best thing to make them with.” Alex reaches out and pokes a monarch’s nose, leaving a fingerprint behind.

“Don’t think you’re meant to touch ‘em, Al.” Nick points out, at the same time pushing his thumb into the monarch’s cheek.

“You want to pay the damages?” Ryan asks. Alex and Nick retract their hands and shove them in their pockets, making Abby laugh. 

“So…are we just meant to all take the tour in a group and scare off whatever we’re meant to be tracking or…” Stephen lets his voice trail off once he’s managed to make Nick laugh. Ryan sighs. Irritated words are muttered into a walkie-talkie and garbled speech comes back.

“Alright, you have permission to split into pairs, with one armed soldier per pair. No solo flights. Agreed?” he waits until he hears mumbles of assent are heard from all members of the group before saying something else into his walkie-talkie, “Stephen, Professor, you’re with Hiro. Alex, Abby, you go with Alec.”

“Triple A batteries.” Alex states.

“Get out of my sight before I change my mind.” Ryan tells them. Alex hooks a hand into the crook of Abby’s elbow and pulls her towards the section of the museum that holds musicians. It seems the most interesting. All the walls are the same shade of red, draped with red curtains, but at least the musician’s section has fun blue lighting and some suspiciously eighties synth is emanating from the doorway. A grand piano fills the entryway of this hall, an Elton John figurine clad in red leather sits on the stool with waxen fingers poised over select keys.

“Paris, ‘94, nice.” Alex comments, moving her torch over the figure.

“How do you know that?” Abby asks, sounding a little spooked.

“Friend of my dad’s is a concert photographer. Still sends us stuff from time to time.” Alex explains, moving ahead of Alec the soldier and following the star-shaped path towards the next act, “Tina Turner, ‘97, Jimi Hendrix-”

“If you wouldn’t mind being quiet.” Alec the soldier says. Alex’s torch droops, then twitches up and she whispers,

“That’s Queen, at Wembley Stadium in 1986.” Her dad was at that concert. She’s still got the t-shirt he’d bought there. “Hang about…” Alex creeps closer to the Queen figures, then drifts in a different direction, towards someone in a powdered wig holding a violin. Alec the soldier begins to protest, but Alex holds up a hand and he stops. She’s sniffing. Loudly. “Abby, are you getting that?” Abby draws level with her and lifts her own nose into the air.

“Yeah…yeah, I am, smells like-”

“Dogshit.”

“Yeah, that.” Abby agrees. She turns to Alex, “Do we have gloves? Or like…sample bags, or something?”

“Not officially. I’ve got some gloves somewhere,” she starts to pat down her pockets, “Nick’s got some freezer bags in his coat.” Behind them, Alec the soldier is narrating their actions into his walkie-talkie. Alex finds a couple pairs of nitrile gloves and hands a set to Abby, who thanks her. “We haven’t really. Nailed down specimen bags or anything yet. They’re still adjusting to having us around.”

“Ryan says if there’s a creature I’m to go ahead of you two,” Alec the soldier tells them. There’s more garbled speech over the talkie, “He wants to know what the creature might be.”

“Tell him I don’t know until I find tracks. Or the shit. We don’t have tracks yet. Does Stephen?”

“Negative.” Alec the soldier tells her after a pause. Alex nudges Abby,

“I think we’re winning.”

“We’re winning…because we might find faeces?”

“Yes. But we need to find it first.” Alex motions to Alec the soldier, and he moves to stand between her and Abby, walking with them when they step forward. Each of them is taking it slow, each inspecting a half of the room while Alec the soldier does general scans for threats. The music is still pumping through the room, making it difficult for the three of them to pick out any quieter sounds an animal might be making. The smell is getting stronger as they move on and veer to the right of the hall to follow it. Abby starts to sweep her torchlight around their feet while Alex peers deeper into their surroundings, only a little distracted by the musicians on display. 

“Here!” Abby’s attempt at whispering is hoarse, but it gets their attention. Alex and Abby crouch together. Alec the soldier hesitates, then contents himself with planting his feet and continuing to scan the room. Both of the scientists have gloves on now, and each of them reaches for the little pile of brown at the same time.

“Dogshit.” They say together. Alec the soldier relays this information, and continues to talk into his walkie-talkie while Alex theorises,

“It could really be any kind of canid from prehistory. Wolves, hyena ancestors, coyotes, dholes. What fossils of their faeces I know of have been speculated to be pretty similar to that of modern day dogs…” Alex considers the poo a few moments longer before putting it down, “I’m still not seeing any tracks. I’m seeing shoe prints, from wet shoes, but if this creature doesn’t have wet feet it’s not going to leave much of a mark on these floors.”

“Unless it’s been scratching it. It didn’t try to cover the scat.”

“Territorial marking?”

“Or it doesn’t care. A lot of the zoo animals don’t clean up after themselves.”

“Because they’ve gotten used to people picking up after them?”

“Some of them.”

“Hey,” this is Alec the soldier. The other two stand, “What am I telling the others?”

“Uh…some kind of dog?” more of a question than a statement from Abby. Alex nods encouragingly. Alec the soldier passes this on and says more soldiers are heading in their direction. Alex leaves her torch by the poo to highlight it so no one steps in it and so she can find it again later before the little group moves forwards. Alec the soldier takes the lead, and Alex lets him, choosing to stay close to Abby and the light. The three creep forward, managing to keep their noise levels to their breathing and their footsteps. Bar the occasional beeping from the walkie-talkie, but that can be forgiven seeing as it’s hardly heard over the background music unless you happen to be walking behind Alec the soldier. 

They don’t have to go all that far before they find something. However, what they find isn’t a creature, it’s the rest of their team coming through the door at the other end of the hall. Neither of the two groups have found any other sign of the creature. The scientists lump together while the soldiers discuss strategies. 

“I think it’s gone, I’m not getting anything on this.” Nick rattles his compass.

“Left us some shit though.” Alex points out.

“Nice of it.” Stephen nods. Nick gives Abby a little wave,

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Abby smiles, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“None of us do.” Stephen assures her. He worms his hand into Nick’s coat pocket to bring out a bag for Abby and Alex to put their gloves in. Once she’s peeled the gloves off, the latter leans against the wall next to Bob Marley. She can feel the signature backbeat of reggae through her legs. 

“What he means is that this is a totally new operation. They don’t know what to do with us.” Nick elaborates. Abby nods.

“Nice of you.” Alex says with raised eyebrows. 

“He can do less work here than at the uni, ‘course he likes it.” Stephen points out, shifting to join his niece before Nick can reach out to shove him. Alex snickers and gets a stern stare from the man who’s supposed to be her tutor. 

“Oi, kids.” Tom Ryan seems to have been given the specific job of babysitting the scientists as well as his captain duties - whatever those are - rather than that tedious task being delegated to someone further down the food chain. They’d probably rather him, so far he’s had a lot of tolerance for their bending the rules. Nick, Stephen and Alex know enough about the operation to pose a threat if they wanted, but the operation in turn hasn’t gotten all the information it wants out of them yet, leaving the operation at a disadvantage. Tom Ryan has at the very least caught everyone’s attention. “Cameras have got something, we’ve got to move,” he lifts the walkie-talkie to his ear for another brief moment before lowering it, “Not sure what.” Once relocated to the centre of the museum, he assigns a group of soldiers to each door, leaving a few with Nick, Stephen, Alex and Abby after quite strictly telling them, “Stay bloody put.”

Black uniforms form rings within the central hall, their lines occasionally broken by the odd wax statue. In the centre, Nick inspects his nails. Stephen leans against one side of a column while Brad Pitt poses against another. Alex squints at Angelina Jolie, winding the wire of her earbuds around her finger. Abby taps her foot on the floor, causing a quiet pat-pat-pat. Wait, no. That’s not Abby. She’s not tapping her foot. She’s leaning forward, moving slowly out into the room as though being pulled by a string towards the Royal Box. Stephen’s the one that spots her, follows tentatively and says her name.

“I heard something.” She whispers, either so as not to scare the creature or not to alert the soldiers. Or both. Stephen’s voice gets Nick’s attention, and Nick taps Alex on the shoulder when he passes her so she follows him. They’re like a little line of ducklings, wandering out of the safe circle of soldiers. The uniforms they pass turn to cover them. Abby stops. “Non-lethals, right?” she checks before moving on.

“What’ve we got?” Someone asks.

“Abby’s hearing something,” Alex tells him, she thinks his name is Ted, “You getting it?” she asks because she can hear it too. Something coming towards them. “Stephen?”

“Quadrupedal. Not a lot of click on the claws.” Stephen answers. Alex hums in agreement, and they can see Abby nodding. Maybe-Ted takes a big step forward and holds out an arm, blocking Abby from leading the rest of the team any further. He’s heard the noise, as have a few others. Four soldiers, an equal amount to the scientists, close ranks around them with guns ready. 

The something gets closer. Unfortunately, the entrance of the Royal Box is quite dark in the emergency lights, and it still can’t be seen. It gets closer. And closer. Safety clicks off guns.

***

“-Christ, Abby’s a cracker,” Nick says again before quoting, “‘Actually, sir, it’s an English Mastiff.’”

“And the thing trying to sit in Lester’s lap.” Stephen and Nick are both weak with laughter, again. They like Abby. Glass clinks quietly as Nick refills their drinks,  and there’s the sound of the Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn advert, in which the phrase ‘Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn’ must be said about seven times in the space of thirty seconds. “Ally, where’s the popcorn?” Stephen asks, even as the bag actively pops in the old microwave that’s vibrating so hard it might one day bounce off the counter.

“Eat your dinner,” Alex shouts back from the kitchen, “And change the channel, I’m not missing another episode.”

“I only owe you one!” Nick points out. Alex steps into the doorway to the living room, which is just an open archway between that and the living room, and throws a mini breadstick at him. It hits the back of his head and then falls out of sight. A loud crunch a few seconds later tells Alex that Stephen has rescued and subsequently eaten it. 

“It was the first episode of the series, you owe me three-”

“I owe you one, I had it recorded.” Nick argues, pushing himself up so he can twist and look over the back of the sofa. He and Alex narrow their eyes at each other for several long moments before Stephen snaps his fingers in front of Nick’s face. Nick’s squint turns into a smile as his eyes turn from one Hart to the other. Stephen closes the distance between them, flipping Alex off when she groans aloud. The TV remote clatters to the floor and the Countdown theme music plays.

“Hey! That is not the BBC!” Alex, balancing a couple bowls in one hand, grabs the cushion from her chair and whacks the kissing men over their heads with it. Stephen pulls away from Nick and throws the cushion back at her, forcing her to skip out of the way before he knocks the popcorn from her hand. Nick falls into laughter, leaning back into the sofa with it and lifting a foot to prop it up on the coffee table. He lifts an arm to allow Stephen to slot into place, head on Nick’s chest, shoulders not-quite digging into his stomach and legs stretched out across the remainder of the sofa. What’s left of Stephen’s dinner still sits on the coffee table. Alex puts the bowls of snacks down on the main coffee table, making sure they’re not blocking Stephen’s eyeline, before rescuing her uncle’s leftovers and the can of Coke she’d abandoned to prepare more food. Alex relocates her food and drink to the little end table by the chair and then picks up her cushion and dusts it off before putting it back in her chair. She’d made the cushion cover in Textiles class in secondary school, a patchwork product made up of squares of various blue fabrics. Whatever piece of Nick’s furniture the cushion is on is proclaimed Alex’s as long as the cushion is on it. Stephen says it’s her version of territorial marking.

“Weaklings.” Nick says, rather out of the blue.

“You what?” The Harts sound identical when they say this, their voices carrying the same indignation and quick defensiveness. Nick points at the television, to where Carol Vorderman is rearranging blue tiles on a board to spell that exact word.

“Weaklings, it’s nine letters.” Nick elaborates. 

“Oh. Good job.” Stephen finds Nick’s hand and presses a kiss to the palm.

“Nice one, Teach,” Alex admits. She stretches out her arms, cracks her knuckles and picks up the plate to chew on Stephen’s abandoned green beans and chips, “Oh, hey, maths! Can any of us do maths?” she asks this question at the same time as Stephen swears. Number tiles are being filled to focused silence, 75, 25, 6, 1, 4, 10, 8. Target 368. The silence is broken when all three of them begin to argue over the best course of action.

“Seventy-five and twenty-five makes a hundred-”

“-and the Fields Medal goes to Alexandra Louise Hart-”

“How can any of this make a sixty-eight?”

“Six times ten plus eight.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Where do we get the three?”

“Make seven with six and one, then take the seven away from the hundred-”

“-but that makes ninety-three-”

“-could use the six and four to make another ten-”

“-we used the six to make seven-”

“-and sixty-eight-”

“-fuck the seven.”

None of them get remotely close to the true solution. There’s always a solution, but they rarely find it. At least not within the thirty seconds. Give them thirty minutes and maybe they could do it. Maybe. 

“It’s seven, it’s seven, change channel, change channel!” Alex clamours, launching herself towards the remote still lying on the floor. Nick finds it with his foot and kicks it in her direction, but it skids a little too far and slides under her chair. Stephen laughs when Alex hits the floor and buries her hand under the chair up to the shoulder. Several empty crisp packets and an old dog toy that one of the ferrets must have forgotten about skitter out onto the floorboards, and Nick and Stephen can hear Alex saying a muffled hello to a spider before she sits back up with the remote clutched in her hand. Still sitting on the floor, she aims the remote at the screen to change the channel, just in time for the Doctor Who theme music to play. Stephen cheers for David Tennant. Alex cheers for Freema Agyeman. Nick rolls his eyes. All three of them whoop in appreciation of  several shots that prominently feature David Tennant’s backside while he argues with his new companion that explaining time travel takes the fun out of it.

“When are they this week, Al?”

“I dunno, I missed last week, didn’t I?”

“What was the title?”

“Can’t remember. Like Martha’s outfit though.”

“Somewhere before the invention of the toilet, sorry about that.”

Stephen’s asleep by the time the ten o’clock news starts. He keeps putting his arms over Nick’s legs, and Nick keeps rescuing them so they don’t lose all feeling. Alex had returned to her chair at some point, after collecting the cushions Stephen had kicked to the floor, and to avoid the news she’s flicking through various channels but is unable to settle on anything. Eventually she switches to the DVD player to see if anything had been left in it. Wallace and Gromit, The Wrong Trousers. 

“How do they make a penguin look evil?” Nick asks, “He’s made of plasticine.” Every time he speaks he pushes his fingers through Steven’s hair as though that will keep him from waking up.

“He hasn’t even got eyebrows.” Alex adds, turning sideways in her chair to let her legs dangle over one side of it. 

“Maybe it’s the hat,” Nick muses. Alex tips her head back and forth and hums, not quite agreeing and not quite arguing, “S’pose he does get a pistol eventually, that’d do it.”

“Even without the gun though, you just know he’s a villain.”

A phone jangles in the kitchen, Nick’s phone.

“Al, get that for me, would you?” he asks. Alex obliges, collecting empty bowls, plates and glasses on her way. Waitressing jobs do pay off eventually, in small ways. She stacks everything by the sink, ready for washing if someone remembers before they go to bed, or doomed to sit there for a few days until they run out of plates. When she picks up the phone she snaps it open, sliding the screen up so she can get to the keys.

“It’s Abby,” she tells Nick, moving slowly back into the living room. She swears quietly, “Shit. Connor thought he’d found another anomaly-”

“Connor?”

“Temple.”

“Ah, aye.”

“Asked her to go with him. Instead of,” she breaks off to sigh, “calling us and getting turned down. They’re in the New Forest, down Southampton way. She can’t be sure exactly where.”

“Goddamn it. Steve, wake up, come on, love.” Nick pushes Stephen up into a sitting position and Stephen, not a particularly heavy sleeper, catches himself quite quickly and makes a confused sound. “Got to get to the New Forest.”

“Eh?”

“Connor and Abby have gone down there looking for a creature.”

“I’m gonna call Connor.” Alex tells them, handing Nick his phone and heading for the stairs.

“Al, you’re going to have to drive.” Stephen yawns. He reaches out and flicks the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

“I don’t know how to get to Southampton.” Alex calls from the hall, partway up the stairs. She swings into her room, finds her phone and dials Connor, putting the phone on speaker so she can leave it on her desk while she laces the high-tops she’d grabbed from the shoe rack. Connor doesn’t answer. She lurches forward and smashes the call button again halfway through tying the second shoe. She can hear Stephen and Nick downstairs pushing their own shoes on, trying to remember where they put Nick’s car keys. Alex steps out of her room and sticks her head over the stair railings to tell them the keys are in the fruit bowl. Connor still hasn’t answered her phone. She tries again, picking up the phone from her desk and someone’s jumper from the stairs on her way down them. The fourth time Alex’s phone rings out, the group have left the house and are climbing into the car.

“Right, I’m calling Tom Ryan.”

“Should we tell Leek?” Stephen asks.

“No, he’ll never hire Connor after this. We have more time to cover for him if we get Tom Ryan. Nick, how do I get to the New Forest?” This she asks with her phone pushed against her left ear by her elbow while she secures her seatbelt. Stephen turns back to the house and comes back with a flat box Alex knows holds a rifle made for tranquiliser darts. Nick’s settled into the passenger seat and has found his trusty map, unfolding it and refolding it until he gets a good path. Alex’s phone clicks and a rather tired-sounding voice comes through it,

Bloody hell, Alex Hart, haven’t you lot had enough today?

“You remember Connor Temple?”

The student?

“He’s gone rogue.”

***

The police had found Connor and Abby long before the ARC team had figured out exactly where in the forest they were. The police had also found Duncan, Tom, and an animatronic dinosaur. Nick and Stephen had entered negotiations with the local police upon arrival, stalling until orders from Lester come through Tom Ryan, who had arrived an hour or so after Nick and the Harts. Alex has been left with Abby, Connor, Duncan and Tom.

“I told you, Connor, I told you to keep your mouth shut, why did you think telling them would be a good idea?” she’d been saying things to this effect for about twenty minutes. She’s trying to channel Stephen’s energy from when she was ten and accidentally-on-purpose microwaved a wad of tinfoil to see what would happen.

“They’re my friends.” Connor says, a bit half-heartedly.

“Aye, and some fucking friends you have. Do you two realise how much trouble you’ve gotten him into? All three of you could be charged for trading state secrets, fuck me.” Duncan opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” Ryan advises. Duncan closes his mouth. “In fact, I recommend the two of you come with me. You’ve got some forms to fill in if you don’t want to go to prison.” Neither Duncan or Tom protest. 

“Look, it’s not his fault-”

“I’m sorry, Abby, but it is. If something happened, he was meant to tell us so we could handle it, not him. Leek’s really strict on civilian’s being involved, it’s the only way they can keep a lid on all this,” Alex gestures to bits of animatronic that are lying around, “I know I pull some stupid shit, but I’ve never gone this stupid,” she takes a deep breath, and it softens her next words, “If this had been a creature, you could have been killed and none of us would have known. You understand that, Connor, yeah?” The crunching of leaves behind her and Connor’s eyes drifting away from hers tells Alex that Nick and Stephen are done with the police and are heading their way.

“She’s right.” Nick says simply.

“I know what you’re going to say-” Connor starts.

“We’re sorry.” Abby cuts in.

“Police aren’t going to prosecute for…” Stephen’s voice tails off as he waves a vague hand at their surroundings.

“Supposing it had been a predator? What were you going to do, tame it? You knew exactly what was at stake but you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” Nick repeats the same phrase Alex has been using around Connor for weeks.

“It’s just so…big. I had to tell somebody,” Connor says, sounding defeated. No, you didn’t, Alex thinks, kicking at the leaves in front of her, “I’m sorry. I am. I blew it.”

“Go back to school. Get on with your work. I’ll find you another supervisor.” Abby’s head turns back and forth from Nick to Connor like she’s watching a tennis match,

“I’m just as much to blame as he is!” She argues as if hoping to take some of the blame. Alex knows better. When Nick gets angry, he’s singularly angry, at one person. 

“Just as stupid, maybe, but you didn’t shout your mouth off and you’ve still got skills I can use. You stay.” Nick turns and leaves. Stephen follows automatically. A moment later, after a last look at Connor, Alex follows too.