#when one of the other passenger told me to move her house to ground level i started to lose it

[allonsos-evil-lair]

I got Spiritfarer for Christmas from my brother.

It is 1:30 am and I just finished Alice's storyline.

I am NOT okay.

[scumbagg]

NSFT/18+

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

A/N: I purely wrote this as Bell instead of Y/N since I can’t bring myself to write Y/N fics 😂 

I recently finished MW2 and needed some Ghost food to heal my broken heart after the traumatic betrayal I witnessed. Also maybe a bit of DadPrice! giving a lecture. Here goes nothing..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Bell

Word count: 3252

Warnings: smut, injury (gunshot), blood, swearing.

“Eyes up, scouts patrolling up ahead.”

Price’s voice in your earpiece came through at the exact moment the two men appeared in your line of vision 40 metres in front of you.

“Dropped him.”

Aiming your sniper, the guard trailing slightly behind fell to the ground before you’d even had time to place your finger on the trigger. Taking aim at the other man’s head, your rifle made almost no sound as you took him out a second later.

“Nice shot. Move up.”

“Thanks.” You whispered back. You turned back for a moment to the place you knew Price was laying hidden almost 90 metres behind you.

“Move, Bell. We won’t have much time before more patrols come along and find those bodies.” Soap’s whispered voice now, also in your earpiece - but you knew he was somewhere to the right of you hidden in the long grass. You crawled quietly through the grass. You heard the brush whispering slightly either side of you as the bodies of Soap and Ghost moved up to flank with you.

“Hold up, two more tangoes patrolling the fence line.” Price murmured a moment later. “Take ‘em out, or let ‘em move on. Your call Bell”

“No stragglers.” You whispered back. You heard the pops from Ghost’s and Soap’s suppressed guns as they took out the two guards ahead.

“Good call.” Price confirmed. “Can’t see anymore inbound. You’re in the clear. House up ahead is empty. We’ll regroup inside.”

“Roger.”

Standing up, you scanned the area out of precaution for more enemies. Satisfied, you nodded to the other two men to move up. The three of you passed the fence line and had almost made it to the back door of the house when it happened.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of a pistol being fired in your direction had you spinning to face the direction it came from, when suddenly you felt white hot pain erupt in your left shoulder. Dropping to the ground, the sound was over almost as quickly as it started, but your eyesight went black as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain and gripped your shoulder as blood poured through your fingers.

“Bell!” The scream came from within your earpiece at the same time Ghost shouted your name, making your ear throb in pain. You hardly noticed with the burning coming from your shoulder, but you still flinched.

“What the fuck was that?!” You gritted through your teeth.

“One of the guards back there wasn’t as dead as we thought. He fucking is now. Don’t worry darlin’, you’re gonna be alright.” Ghost pried your hand away from your shoulder and replace them with his own. “Soap, get me the medi-kit from your pack, quick!”

“Darlin’?!” Soap laughed as he handed Ghost the pack. Frowning, he looked down at the two of you.

“He’s taking the piss.. it’s an inside joke.. had to be there.” You said through gritted teeth, glaring into Ghost’s glasses. Ghost said nothing as he worked on stopping the bleeding, but the minimal supplies in the kit weren’t doing much.

“Fuck!” Ghost said in a panicked voice. You were starting to feel drowsy, and the sight of all the blood was making you queasy. You could feel your head starting to spin, threatening to send you into unconsciousness.

“Ghost, she’s gonna be fine. Look, the bullet went straight through.” Soap said calmly, pointing at the bullet lodged in the brick in the wall just behind where you’d been standing. “It’s a clean wound, it’ll just need stitches.”

“Fine. We’ve gotta get her back ASAP. I’ll take her, you and Price grab the intel.”

“No, I’ll take her.” Price came into view, rifle slung over his back. “You’re the one that’s better with technology, you’ll get the intel quicker from the computer. Someone’s bound to have heard those gunshots, we’re sure to have company soon. C’mon Bell.” Price hoisted you up under your uninjured arm, replacing Ghost’s hands with one of his. Stumbling, you gripped Price’s arm for support. Looking over at Ghost, you noticed his eyes tighten behind his sunglasses, but he nodded in assent.

“Let’s get moving,” Price commanded, nodding at the other two. “Soap, Ghost, I’ll send for another chopper to pick you up. See you boys at home.”

*****

  Fourteen stitches and a bandaged shoulder later, the infirmary staff finally let you leave. Pushing open the exit door to the outside, you found Price leaning against a jeep waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked suspiciously.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home. It’s a bit of a far walk and I assumed you’d be too hopped up on pain killers to drive yourself.” He replied, opening the passenger door courteously.

“Oh… thanks.” You said, taken aback by the display of kindness. It’s not that Captain Price was unkind; he’d just never shown any outward kindness outside of the field. You were surprised that he’d thought to even come back for you.

The two of you drove in silence for a few moments, before the question you were burning to ask broke its way out of your control.

“Did the other two make it back okay?” You tried to sound casual, but your insides were turning with worry.

“Yeah, they got back about an hour ago, no issues.” Price answered, concentrating on the road.

“And the intel?”

‘Acquired.” Price gruffed.

“Hmm, very good.” You stared straight ahead, watching the sun settle in the west. This was the first time in a non-formal environment you’d ever spent a moment alone with the Captain, and you weren’t sure how to make small talk with him. You sat in silence as Price drove you through the city. You wondered how he knew where you lived when it occurred to you that being a member of his team, he’d know where everyone lived. Not that you spent much time in your own house these nights. You thought back to a few nights ago...

The sound of Price clearing his throat awkwardly pulled you out of your reverie. Looking over at him, you watched as he shifted in his seat and waited for him to speak.

“What is it?”

Price sighed. “Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation. But I’ve told him the same thing I’m telling you now. This is one of the best task forces I’ve ever worked with, and I don’t want anything fucking that up. Understood?”

You felt your calm composure slip through the cracks as your eyes widened in panic. You glanced over to see him still staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I fucking know.” Price snapped, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. Shit, so maybe he did know where you actually slept after all. “I know everything that goes on in my team. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t give a fuck what you get up to in your spare time. It’s like I told him, I’m not going to report it. It’s not been an issue yet. Just don’t let it affect you on the job.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been so careful about trying to keep it professional while we’re on a mission!” Your heart raced at the fact you had been caught out.

“I know you have, Bell. But that man is head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t realised. I’m concerned he’ll let his feelings for you get in the way of the job. Look at today – he’s the best man on our team for tech, and he was willing to throw the whole job, just out of pure panic for you.” Price sighed again. “I’m not sending either of you away. I just needed to remind you of the main reason we are here. If you two can’t handle that, I’ll be forced to find someone to take your place on the team.”

“Does anyone else know?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but if Simon continues on the way he was today, I doubt it’ll be long until Soap catches on.” Price grimaced, then looked over at you. “Darlin’,” he grinned.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Price pulled up outside what you now realised wasn’t your house. “I can’t believe he let that slip out.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, careful not to move too much that it pulled at your stitches. Opening your door, you looked back at Price. “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

Price smiled and nodded in response. “Don’t be too harsh on him about today,” he said, looking over your shoulder as you heard the front door open behind you. You closed the door and waved as the jeep drove away.

*****

  All your anxiety from the conversation with Price suddenly turned to irritation as you turned to face the man in the doorway. You stormed towards him, your uninjured shoulder hitting his lower abdomen as you barged your way past him into the hallway.

“Bell-” he began.

“Get out of my way, Simon. I need a fucking shower.” You snapped irritably.

“Here, let me help-”

“No.”

“Bell!” Simon pleaded.

“What the fuck was that today?!” You snarled. “You might as well just fucking announce to the whole place that we’re together!” You began climbing the stairs towards the bathroom, but stopped halfway there. Staying angry wasn’t one of your strong suits, and seeing him standing pleadingly in the hallway washed away your irritation. “Look,” you sighed heavily, coming back down the stairs so you were eye level with him. “I just had the lecture of a lifetime from Price. I can’t lose what we have here Simon, and he warned if we couldn’t keep it professional out there, then one of us would be replaced.” You stepped towards him, reaching for him in both apology and forgiveness. You placed a hand on his masked jaw, your thumb stroking along his hard cheekbone.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said apologetically, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Seeing you injured and in pain, all that blood… I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed. Smiling up at him, you smacked his arm playfully. “You’re silly, you know that right. Even I knew it wasn’t bad, and you’ve seen way more injuries than I have. I can’t imagine how you would’ve been if Soap hadn’t been there to pull your head in.”

Simon wrapped his arm around your head, resting his hand at the base of your skull and pulled you in for a hug. You lifted your other arm to place it around his waist and winced. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you feeling anyway, darlin’?” He stepped back to survey you.

“Rubbish. These pain killers are doing their job, but I feel disgusting. I really do need a shower.” You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. “I uh... might need a hand actually,” you said awkwardly, wondering how you were going to manage without getting your stitches wet. Surprisingly, this was your first major injury, given your line of work.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling you towards the bathroom.

 Simon turned on the shower and helped you undress, helping remove your shoes, pants and underwear, aware of your fresh wound as he carefully pulled the shirt from your arms and over your head. His eyes filled with remorse as they fell on your injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That guy that shot you… that’s the one I took down. I didn’t know he wasn’t dead.” He looked away sadly.

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin gently and turned his head so he was looking you squarely in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself, no one else does. I’m fine.”

“But what if it had been worse? What if that bullet had landed here?” Simon touched your forehead. “Or here,” he said, touching the base of your throat. “What if-”

“Don’t think about it,” you said firmly, pulling his hand from your neck. “Simon, I said I’m fine.” Still holding his hand, you pulled it up to your lips. “There is one thing I am annoyed about, though,” you smirked as you kissed his fingers.

Simon looked at you quizzically. “Why am I the only one naked right now? Surely you’re not gonna shower in your clothes.” You stepped inside the shower, letting the water run over your head, careful to avoid letting it hit your left shoulder.

Simon’s eyes squinted, and you knew he was smirking behind his mask as he removed the rest of his gear and dumped it on the ground next to yours. As always, his mask was the very last thing he removed. No matter how comfortable Simon was with you, and no matter how many times you’d seen him without it, there were certain insecurities that were too deeply ingrained. The last piece of Ghost removed, and only Simon stood in front of you.

Simon stepped in the large shower with you. Grabbing a face washer and pouring body wash on it, he gently helped scrub off the dried blood that had made its way down your torso. He shampooed, conditioned and brushed your hair, knowing you couldn’t lift your arm to wash any dried blood that had knotted in there. Once you were clean, you grabbed the other face wash and carefully, with your good arm, moved it across his chest and abdomen. He watched as you gently made circles on his large shoulders and down his muscular arms.

You wrapped your good arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be too long,” you smiled as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel.

Walking to the dresser, you pulled out some clothes and attempted to get dressed but you couldn’t pull the shirt over your head. You sighed, and sat on the bed resignedly, still in your towel. You heard the shower stop running, and Simon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” you beckoned, reaching for him. Simon came to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs. You leaned forward and kissed his stomach, feeling the warm skin beneath your lips raise with goose bumps. You tugged on his arm, pulling him down towards the ground. He knelt, still between your legs, and leaned forward to bury his face in your neck. Almost a whole foot of height difference between the two of you, yet you were the only person who could bring Simon Riley to his knees.

Your good arm snaked its way around his broad back, tracing his spine, down to his hips to the edge of the towel. You heard Simon’s breath quicken, still lightly kissing your neck, when your fingers made their way around to the front of his towel and tugged it loose, letting it fall to the floor.

You lightly brushed your fingers down his stomach and over his navel, until you reached the base of his shaft. You felt Simon’s breath hitch as you gripped it in both hands.

“Bell..” he groaned.

“Mmm?”

He brought his mouth round to yours, kissing you deeply. His mouth trailed back along your jaw to your ear. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?” You felt his smirk against your cheek as he repeated your line back to you.

“Maybe you should fix that,” you whispered back.

Simon wasted no time in removing your towel and throwing it across the other side of the room. You laid back on the bed as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and thumbing circles around the other. Your hands threaded themselves through his thick hair as you massaged his head. Simon’s hands followed his head as he made his way down your stomach and down your navel, his hands gliding over your hips and massaging up and down your thighs.

You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure as he buried his face between your legs, his mouth sucking and licking at your clit. You gasped as you felt one of Simon’s fingers enter you, then two, and he slowly picked up a rhythm as his mouth and fingers worked in synch. You could feel your walls begin to tighten as you got closer to your orgasm.

“Stop,” you gasped. Simon looked up quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

“Not at all,” you tugged at his arm so he pulled himself so he was hovered above you. “I need you in me right now,” you purred as you pulled his head down, his lips crashing to meet yours.

You reached down and grabbed his length firmly, stroking it. Simon’s eyes glazed over with lust as he moved his head back to your neck. Guiding him, you positioned him at your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked huskily. You knew he was teasing. He knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed.

You both groaned with pleasure as he entered you, filling and stretching you out. Simon set a slow pace at first, until he was sure you had adjusted to him, then quickened the pace. His hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you, holding you in place so you didn’t move around too much. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and you gripped his forearms, lost in pleasure.

Simon leaned forward and your legs dropped to his waist. He took one of your breasts in his mouth. You moaned in ecstasy as he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Simon.. I think I’m gonna-” you gasped.

Still inside of you, Simon pulled you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

“Owwwww!” You winced as the action pulled tightly at your left shoulder.

“Fuck! Sorry! You okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you picked up the pace again. You brought your legs either side of his waist and pulled his hands to your breasts as you lowered yourself onto him, taking him completely. Now in control, you could feel every movement and every angle as you took him deep inside you.

Simon gripped your breasts firmly as he felt your walls begin to tighten. “C’mon, darlin’,” he groaned. “I’m not far off, myself.”

“I’m gonna come,” you whined. You rocked your hips back and forth and threw your head back as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasm out, and heard Simon groan as his own orgasm erupted into you. You fell on top of him, exhausted and satisfied.

Simon gently rolled you off him and onto the bed as he got up to get some water. Your eyes followed him, appreciating his finely sculpted body as he walked to the sink in the ensuite, grabbing a glass off the nightstand and filling it with water. He met your eyes as he walked back to the bed.

“What?” He asked bashfully as he handed you the water, aware of his nakedness.

“You’re beautiful,” you smiled drowsily, taking the glass.

Simon chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? They must be some strong drugs they gave you.”

“Hmmm... never better” you sighed as you handed the water back to him. Despite what you said, sleep was already pulling you under.

Simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[13-reasons-ideas]

Hey, I love your stories and your style of writing 💕 I was wondering if you could write one on Scott Reed, along the storyline of the series, where the reader was Jeff's girlfriend until his death, and Scott is there by her side and starts to get along with her, but he's hesitant to make a move because he was pretty close to Jeff as well?

MOVING FORWARD? 

A/N: Trigger warning: character death. I hope you like this. I tried to focus more on the process of moving forward with little snippets. I’m sorry this took a while, I had to make the parts flow together and it was challenging. I wrote and rewrote it a few times. Sorry if spacing is off, I tried to fix it as best I could. You’ll want tissues and maybe a snack. It’s a long one. 

SEPTEMBER

“Babe, you don’t have to go. I can go get more beer. You stay here with your friends.” I asked Jeff, who was getting his coat to go on a beer run. Jessica’s party was in full swing and everyone was here. Even Clay Jensen came, to most people’s surprise.

“(Y/N), I’m good. I’ve been drinking Coke all night. I’ll see you in a few. I love you.”

I sighed as I looked up at his beaming face, “okay, fine. I’ll see you in twenty. Drive safe, I love you too.” I kissed him softly and watched as he jogged out to the car to run to Blue Spot. I decided to go off in search of my friends and found them in the kitchen, arguing with Scott and Monty about who should get the last beer.

“Ah, finally. Someone who can break the stalemate. (Y/N), who do you think should get it?” Scott asked me.

“Easy. Me.” I smiled, taking the bottle from the table and opening it.

“But- you… you don’t even like beer.” Layla stuttered.

“I know, but it saves me from watching the four of you argue until Jeff gets back. I’m sure you can last,” I checked my watch, “fourteen minutes without a beer.” The boys groaned and Layla turned to Katie, sighing dramatically. I shook my head as I walked away.

I was alone for a while, just wandering the house. I had seen Clay run out of the party a while ago, followed by Sherri and Hannah a while after that. I played with my necklace, a gift from Jeff for our first anniversary, just people watching, the bottle of Coors still full in my hand. My phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts. “hello?” I asked, not bothering to look at who was calling. I assumed it was Jeff calling to confirm how much beer he needed to get.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N/N)- you- oh fuck.”

“Who is this?”

“I-it’s Clay. (Y/N) you… oh god. I called 911 already. There’s been an accident.” No. No no no. Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say. “J-Jeff.” His voice cracked. I heard sirens in the distance. I felt as though I was frozen. “Th-the police are here; they want to talk to me. They’re calling his parents. Oh god (Y/N/N). I have to go.”

“Clay. Clay wait. What happe-.” I tried to ask. He hung up before I could get any words out. It was almost like I had an out of body experience. I lowered my phone and felt the full bottle fall from my grip, shattering on the floor. No one was around to notice, or at least, I couldn’t see if there was. I had tunnel vision. Jeff… he can’t… no.

I blinked quickly a few times to try and make my vision normal, as well as keeping the welling tears from falling. Need to find sports boy. I couldn’t think of the proper words. Walking back towards the kitchen, I scanned the room for someone in a varsity jacket or a face I could identify as an athlete, hell, I scanned for Monty’s plaid shirt. Something like this should trump the stupid fight we had earlier today. I spotted him over by the fridge, talking to some girl. “Monty.” I said quietly as I approached him. He didn’t hear me. “Monty.” I tried again, a little louder. He still didn’t hear me, or he heard me and chose to ignore it. “Montgomery.” I said louder, my voice cracking and placing a hand on his bicep. He froze for a second.

“One second.” He told the girl he was putting the moves on. I watched him turn to face me. As soon as he saw my face, his mouth closed, and his brow furrowed. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Monty asked me, his eyes softening and his demeanor changing almost immediately. I couldn’t get any words out now that I had found someone to tell. I just shook my head and waved my arms awkwardly. “(Y/N/N), did something happen? What happened?”

I opened my mouth and my voice cracked. It felt like my throat was trying to open around a peach pit. “J-Jeff….” Was all I could say. My face crumpled and my eyes squeezed shut, trying my damnedest to keep from crying or screaming. “He… there was an accident.” Monty’s entire face dropped.

“What kind of accident?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s good Monty. We have to… I have to….” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain that we needed to leave.

“(Y/N) you need to breathe. Let’s go find the guys. Come on.” He said, his face hardening as he pulled me along beside him. I turned to look at the girl he walked away from. She looked royally miffed.

“Scott. Where’s Bryce?” Monty asked his friend. I stood behind him, clutching his shirt tightly to keep myself upright. Had it been any other time, I think he would have minded.

“I don’t know, I think he went upstairs. Why?”

“We need to go.”

Scott looked between Monty and I. “Uh… do you need permission to leave now or something?”

“No Scott. We need to go.” Scott looked at me again and he seemed to register the look on my face as not simply having too much to drink. Monty leaned forward to whisper something to Scott. His eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. Uh… I’m good to drive, so you go upstairs and look for Bryce and Justin and whoever else. I’ll take (Y/N) to the car.” I clutched Monty’s shirt tighter.

“(Y/N), you need to let go. I’ll be right back. Go with Scott.” He told me, prying my fingers off his person. I heard myself hum and felt Scott guide me out to the car.

He opened the door and guided me to sit down in the passenger seat. “Do you want some water?” he asked, squatting down to my level. I nodded and he went around to the driver’s side. I turned to watch him root around in his gym bag for a water bottle. He walked back around to me and handed me the fresh bottle. I opened it and took a small sip. He watched me, steadying it when I shook too much. My phone rang again, and I looked down to see who it was. Jeff’s mom was calling. “Hello?” I asked, timidly.

“(Y/N)? Darling, you need to come to the hospital. There was an accident.” She told me, her voice shaking. I could tell she was trying to get the words out without crying.

“I know. Clay called me. We will be there soon.” I looked up as I saw the group of athletes walking out, confused and somber looks on their faces. Scott waved them over. “Okay. We are on our way to the regional hospital. Let one of us know when you get there and we will come down to get you.”

I nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see me. “Mhmm. I will.” I squeaked before hanging up. I felt several dozen eyes on me as I stared at my lap. “They’re going to the regional hospital.” Was all I said as I turned myself forward and shut the door. It was quiet for a few moments before Scott came around and started the car.

Neither of us spoke until we were about halfway to the hospital. I felt my stomach churn the closer we got. “You need to pull over.” I told Scott stiffly.

“You okay (Y/N)?” he asked, his eyes darting to me and back to the road.

“Pull over now.” I ground out, trying to keep from heaving.

“Okay, just a second.” He signalled to pull over and stopped the car. In a matter of seconds, I had the door open and was hunched over on the side of the road, throwing up in the ditch. Diego and Monty pulled over as well when they saw me, and I heard Diego call from the Jeep.

“Is she okay? Or like… she’s okay?”

I groaned. “I’ve got her, you guys go on ahead.” Scott called back. I wiped my mouth and stood up straight, sending Monty a thumbs up. He nodded and merged back into traffic. I walked back to the car, taking a gulp of water, swishing and spitting it on the road.

“We can go.” I said and it was quiet again.

Arriving at the hospital and calling Jeff’s mom was a blur. It was also a blur waiting for the doctor and watching his parents argue that I should be there to hear what was happening. I stared at the wall blankly while I waited for news. Some of the guys whispered around me, others prayed, others like me, stared blankly. Finally, the doctor agreed to let me listen and I walked over at the wave of a nurse. The nurse took me into the small room I remembered being in when I was young, and my grandma had passed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, Miss (Y/L/N). I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but Jeff passed away at the scene of the accident. I am sorry for your loss.” I closed my eyes as his mom dropped to the floor and screamed. His dad dropped and pulled his distraught wife into his arms. I took a breath and turned to run from the room. I ran down the hall, ignoring the group in the waiting room. “(Y/N), wait.” I heard someone call behind me. I ignored them. I also ignored the footsteps following me. I have to get out of here was running over and over in my head. I stopped running when I got outside and bent over, placing my hands on my knees. I gulped the air, trying to slow my heartrate and put off the impending breakdown.

“(Y/N)?” a voice spoke from behind me. I shook my head. I knew who was talking to me, but I couldn’t make myself speak. “Come here.” Bryce said gently, as though I was a fawn he was trying to approach without spooking. I still couldn’t say anything. His hand gently touched my back and rubbed in circles. I began to stand up and his arms immediately went around my middle to support my weight in the event that I couldn’t stand up. He held me for a few minutes, while I shook and tried not to cry. I noticed Justin standing at the doors with a broken yet menacing look on his face.

“He’s gone.” I whispered quietly into the blond’s shoulder.

“I know. Let’s go back inside, yeah? Get you some water and have someone take you home?” I hummed as he tucked me under his shoulder, supporting my weight.

The group of heartbroken boys were still in the waiting room with Jeff’s parents. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with them. Monty walked up to Bryce and took me from him.

“I’ll take her home.”

“Stay with her.” Diego told him, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. Monty nodded and took his flannel off, wrapping me up in it. I took one last look at his parents before turning and walking away, not daring to think of how I was going to have to begin the grieving process for my boyfriend.

I walked up to the school doors on Monday morning and stood there, just looking at it. I was early so there weren’t many people outside, but those who were, stared at me and whispered to each other. Jeff’s baseball shirt hung off my thin frame and my black yoga pants hugged my curves, hidden by the shirt. It seemed to be bigger than it was a few days ago. “Are you going to go inside, or do you want to cut today?” Monty asked from behind me.

I jumped slightly. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have to be here today.”

“Okay. I’ll wait with you.” He stood beside me quietly until I was ready to walk in. I took a step forward and then another, and another. He fell into step beside me. People stared as I walked in. I guess I should get used to it.Principal Bolan and Mr. Porter were waiting for me at the main office.

“(Y/N), if there is anything the school can do, just let me know and I will handle it.” The principal said. Yeah, sure you will.

“Thank you.” I replied, quietly. He nodded and walked back into his office. The appeasing statement has been made. Let’s not appear to care too much.

“(Y/N), you don’t need to be here today. You’ve suffered a great loss. Your teachers would understand why you weren’t here.” Mr. Porter offered.

I stared at him. Is he serious? “I know you’re trying to help and that’s great. But I do need to be here today.” I explained.

“Why?”

“I heard he was drinking, and she let him get in the car anyway.” A girl I had never met muttered to her friend as she passed me. Monty must have seen my features darken and he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I gestured to Mr. Porter.

“That is why. I need to get ahead of this. Jeff is-,” I caught myself, “was a wonderful and well-loved young man, but the kids at this school don’t care about that. If I wasn’t here, the rumors would be even worse.”

Mr. Porter nodded; he had been here long enough to know how people were. “Alright, but if you want to talk or decide you need to go home, come let me know.” I nodded at him and together, Monty and I walked to my locker.

“Did he really say, ‘you don’t need to be here today’? Like he actually fucking said that?” I asked.

“Yup. I heard it too.” Monty said, shaking his head. Clay stopped us in the hall, and I tried to smile at him. It came out as more of a grimace.

“Hey Clay. How’re you doing?”

“I don’t know. How are you doing?”

“I changed my shirt this morning. So that’s something I guess.” I shrugged.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N).”

“I know. Me too. Jeff really liked you, you know.”

“Yeah.” Neither of us knew what else to say. “I uh… I’ll see you around?”

“You will. Let me know if,” I paused, “if you want to talk sometime.”

“Okay.” He nodded before making his way to wherever it is that Clay Jensen spends his time. I tried to ignore the whispers as I sighed.

“This day isn’t going to get any easier.” I muttered. Monty shrugged as we walked. No one else really said anything to me as we walked, all of them grieving in their own ways.

“She isn’t left alone today, okay?” I heard Bryce tell the rest of the athletes, who had crowded around my locker. I had to stop myself from speaking up and telling him that I’m not a child and I can take care of myself. Instead, I readjusted my bag on my shoulder.

“Hey Bryce. Guys.” I greeted somberly.

“Hey (Y/N).” Bryce greeted, equally as somberly. He pulled me into a slightly awkward but understandable hug. Bryce hugs people when they aren’t in shock? This is probably one of the strangest interactions I’ve had with Bryce Walker since… ever. I wasn’t sure what to do so I just patted his back gently. He pulled away and the group made room for me to get to my locker.

“You can all stop staring at me any time. It’s kind of creepy.” I said as I gathered my things. “I know this is a hard day for all of us, but that doesn’t mean you need to stare like everyone else.” When I turned back, they were still looking at me. “Seriously, stop. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I will however, go to my stupid physics class and learn about the laws of motion.” I put my textbooks in my bag and began walking away from my friends. When I didn’t hear any of them following, I turned around. “You coming Diego? Hutcher will get all bent out of shape if we are late, even under these circumstances.”

“I guess so, yeah.” He mumbled, confused before quickly catching up with me.

Between the sad looks from teachers, the boys and their girlfriends following me everywhere, and the whispers from students, my patience with today was beginning to wear thin. It was around lunch time when I heard two girls talking to each other. They must not have noticed I was walking past.

“She really seems to be milking this grieving girlfriend thing.”

“Lizzie, it’s been three days, give her a break. I wonder what it was like. Must have been-.” I had finally had enough.

“What what was like? What part would you like to know about? The part where I begged him not to leave? Or when I got a phone call from a kid freaking out? Would you like to know about what it was like gathering all the guy at that party and going to the hospital? Because it turns out a brother dying sobers you up pretty quick.” I paused and looked at their expressions. “No. No you don’t want to know about that. You want to know what it was like listening to his mom scream and cry and beg God to bring her son back. You want to hear about how I haven’t eaten in three days because I’ve been crying so much I can’t keep food down. And how everyone is staring at me and whispering because apparently Jeff Atkins’ death is inconvenient for them.” Before I could continue, I felt arms going around my waist and I was being pulled back.

“Easy there Ticat.” Scott Reed spoke into my ear. I struggled for a moment and he wrapped his arms around my waist tighter. Finally, I relaxed, and he let go. I watched him turn to the girls.

“She lost her boyfriend three fucking days ago. We lost a brother. Have some goddamn respect.” He scoffed and shook his head as he grabbed the bag I dropped and led me towards the door. The girls looked as though he slapped them as we walked away. He passed me his phone as we walked. “Call Monty.” I did as he said and put it on speaker.

“Hello?” Monty answered.

“Hey. I’m taking (Y/N) home.”

“Why? Is she okay?” He asked.

“She is. At least as okay as we can expect. It’s everyone else that’s the problem.” He grumbled.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Tell Porter she had to go home for me?”

“I will. Keep me posted?”

“Will do. Bye.” He took the phone from my hand and hung up. We had arrived at his car and he seemed to have calmed down a bit. “So, home?” I blinked at him, not totally understanding the question. “Where do you live?” He clarified, slowly.

“Oh uh… just off Lincoln and sixth.” I replied. He nodded and got in the car. I followed suit and stared out the windshield. “That was… something.”

“Yeah well it’s been a long day.”

“I think they’ll be long for a while.”

“Me too.” He replied, sadly. “You don’t want to go home do you?” he asked, suddenly. I was quiet for a while before answering.

“Not really no. My parents are at work and they’ve just been hovering since Monty brought me home. But it’s so quiet.”

“I can stay if you want. I’m not the greatest cook in the world but I can manage soup broth.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“No. Bryce may be a dick a lot of the time, but he’s right. You shouldn’t be left alone today. And I can guarantee that I am far better company than some of the other guys. We don’t have to talk or anything. If you’re not comfortable with that, I can call Monty back or one of your other, uh… friends?”

“You mean Layla and Katie? They aren’t really my friends. Have you seen or heard from them today at all? Because I haven’t.”

“I haven’t. Why do you hang out with them then?”

“Why do you spend time with Bryce Walker, Scott?”

“Fair point.” He replied, dropping the subject.

We got closer to my house and I spoke again. “It’s the slightly darker grey one up ahead here.”

“As opposed to the slightly lighter grey houses?” Scott joked. It was a really bad joke, but I felt myself start to smile slightly for the first time in days.

“Well, yeah.” I stated, biting the inside of my lip slightly to keep a straight face. He must have caught himself smiling slightly too because he quickly relaxed his face back to the somewhat somber expression, we all wore today.

“Heard that one before?”

“Yeah. Jeff joked about it a lot.” I smiled sadly at the memory. We were silent again as he pulled into my driveway and we walked to the door. Our stuff was arranged neatly by the door and we made our way through the house to the kitchen. Evidently, he wasn’t kidding about the soup thing.

“Okay, where do you keep your pots?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“Bottom cupboard by the stove.” I pointed. I’m really not hungry and this really isn’t a good idea. He nodded and set to work searching the kitchen for ingredients.

I decided to leave him be as he fell into what was clearly his zone. When I was upstairs, I decided it might be time to have a shower and clean some of the sadness off of me. It doesn’t work like that (Y/N). I shook my head. You think I don’t know that? I just need to do something that feels normal. Once I was showered and changed into a clean sweatshirt and bike shorts, I made my way downstairs. At the sound of my footsteps, Scott looked up. “I made you a sandwich. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want, but it’s there.” I nodded and sat at the island in front of the bowl of hot soup broth. I took a timid sip from my spoon and sighed. This is really good.

“Thank you.” I muttered quietly. He nodded at me as he took a bite of his own sandwich. We ate in silence across from each other. Scott wasn’t lying when he said we didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. Once our lunch was done, he pulled out a notebook and did some homework at the table while I turned on the tv at a low volume, pretending to be interested in some soap opera that had been on longer than I’d been alive. Just like this morning, I pretended not to notice his not so discreet looks to check on me. He didn’t leave until just before my mom got home from work. We bid each other a slightly awkward goodbye and I breathed a sigh of relief that I could finally be alone for a few minutes.

The next couple of days at school weren’t much better. Bryce was still being… nice, which I found slightly odd. It wasn’t nice in a creepy way or anything like that. He seemed to genuinely be nice. He walked me to my first class since his was next door, keeping a respectable distance between us at all times. If he saw me in the halls, he would wave at me or nod in acknowledgement. At first, I thought he was being weird, but when I talked to Monty about it, he just shrugged. “This might be how he’s choosing to grieve. Focus on being nice to you and making sure you know someone is there.”

“I get that, but its Bryce. Usually when he’s nice to a girl….”

“I know. He’s annoying and says stupid shit. But he’s my best friend. I know him. He’s actually trying to be nice to you. Jeff was his friend.”

I sighed. “Okay. I’m not going to start hanging out with him or anything though. If he’s your best friend, what does that make me?”

“My person or whatever.” He muttered, going back to his geometry problem.

“I knew you paid attention when we watched that.” I muttered as I went back to my biology notes.

The stares weren’t much different, but it seemed like it had started really setting in for people by now. Jeff Atkins, one of their classmates, their idols, their friend, was gone. The snarky whispers stopped, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my outburst on Monday morning or not. I noticed Hannah Baker watching me at my locker during breaks, but I didn’t pay much mind to it. She’s the girl Clay is in love with and Jeff wanted them to get together sure, but that girl had more going on than met the eye. Jessica and Justin seemed more lovey than usual which sucked to watch but whatever works for them I suppose. Justin and Bryce’s relationship seemed kind of off, but I attributed it to some stupid high school bullshit or having different ways of dealing with death. Diego and I hadn’t ever been super close or friendly at all, but he was friends with Jeff and Monty, so I had been around him. When we stopped to talk in the halls or anything, he talked to me just like he always had. We kept it to small talk and school related topics. I was grateful he wasn’t walking on eggshells and trying not to say the wrong thing.

Scott Reed was the one person I couldn’t wrap my head around though. We were kind of sort of friends. More than acquaintances, but not friends, friends. More, you’re friends with my boyfriend and best friend so that’s something, friends. We had also worked on group projects together in the past. He seemed to be stuck between trying to help me and being scared to talk to me. I would catch him looking at me from his locker but he would look away quickly in the mornings, but then at lunch or when the halls were quiet, he would try to make me smile or laugh. It was very confusing, especially with my head being so clouded by grief. I knew he wasn’t trying to make any moves or anything. It’s probably just the way he’s processing things. Maybe he’s trying to avoid the issue and this is how he wants to do it. We didn’t mention our afternoon at my house on Monday, nor did he insert himself into any grief related outbursts that may or may not have occurred in the last few days. You need to stop thinking so much. This is too much to deal with right now.

** **

I hadn’t retained anything we had talked about in school this week. I was too busy dreading this day. I stared at the classic black dress hanging on the door of my closet. It stared back, mockingly. I was in my room, hair freshly curled and pulled out of my face, neutral makeup on, doing all I could to not think about what my plans for the day were going to be just over a week ago. It was shocking how fast plans could change. Instead of a relaxing walk and maybe a game of catch with my boyfriend before dinner, I was getting dressed for his funeral. I rolled my eyes up to try to keep the tears at bay for just a little longer. A knock at my door redirected my attention. “Hey.” Monty said from the door. He leaned against the door frame, likely wrinkling his black suit.

“Hey.” I replied. I sighed and shook my head.

“Are we getting dressed or are we going to stand here hoping it dresses you on its own?” he asked, stepping into my room.

“I don’t know.”

“Your folks are downstairs waiting for you.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you want a drink?” I turned around to face him as he pulled a silver flask out of his inside jacket pocket.

“No. Need to be sober for this.”

He nodded and took a swig of whatever it contained. Today wasn’t the day to argue with him about drinking before eleven. “Do you need help with the dress or are you good?”

“I think I’ll need you to zip it up.” I muttered, motioning for him to sit on my bed as I took the dress off its hanger, going into my closet to change. I didn’t look in the mirror as I passed it on the way to my bed. He zipped it up deftly. I again, decided not to make a comment about how he wasn’t usually zipping dresses up.With that taken care of, I slipped on my black pumps and turned around to look in the mirror. “Do I look okay Monty?” I asked, pulling on my sleeves slightly, trying to cover up a little more. He placed his hand on mine to stop me.

“You look beautiful (Y/N). Stop fiddling with it and let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to.” I replied, my voice cracking. Don’t cry. Do not cry.

“I know. But we need to.” He sighed. “Everyone will be there. If it makes you feel better, I can even talk to the Jensen kid.”

“Clay. And I don’t know if it would honestly.” Before we went downstairs, I asked him, “can I take you up on your offer of flask juice?”

“Not right now. You said you have to stay sober for this.”

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time today and walked downstairs, clutching the railing as I went so that I didn’t topple over.

Jeff’s parents asked if I wanted to come early so I could have some alone time to say goodbye to Jeff. When we arrived at the church, his parents, the Priest, and the funeral director met us out front. Jeff’s dad pulled me into a tight hug and whispered apologies in my ear. I rubbed his back softly and apologised back. His mom was quick to pull me in as well. “I’ll always consider you akin to a daughter, (Y/N).” She whispered. I had to fight back tears when she squeezed tighter before letting me go.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Father Carmichael said as he took my hand gently. They were warmer than I expected for a man his age.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. The sentiment was shared by the funeral director and I was ushered off to the waiting hearse. The back door was opened, and I stared at the shiny walnut casket filling the space. It almost didn’t believe what I was seeing. It didn’t seem real. I placed a hand on the varnished wood, noting how smooth it felt.

“This can’t be happening.” I muttered softly. I paused to wait for a response I knew would never come. “We promised each other we would have forever.” There was more I wanted to say but the tears were becoming impossible to stop. I hoped that he knew everything I wanted to say already. I wiped my tears quickly before turning around and waiting for the pallbearers to arrive. We were ushered into the church before other people arrived.

“(Y/N), would you like to sit with the family? You practically are to us.” Jeff’s mom asked as my parents went to get some water.

“Umm,” I paused and turned to Monty. He shrugged and nodded. “I guess that would be okay.” I replied, not completely sure of my answer.

“Alright sweetie.” She hugged me again and turned as the pallbearers began arriving. I watched on as the funeral director explained procedure to them. His parents and I were led out of the church once again to follow the casket into the chapel.

The church was packed full. I could hear the quiet loud of a large group chattering with one another at the door. I quickly shut the door on the original idea of a large gathering in this little church. Oh, how that day would have been so different than today. My dad wouldn’t already be seated inside, I wouldn’t be wearing black, Jeff would be standing at the alter instead of…. Suddenly we were watching the group of young men carry the heavy casket up the church steps. His cousins were trying to keep their tears in but couldn’t help the few that slid out. His uncle had tears streaming down his face. I took a deep breath and began following his mom and dad into the church. When I got to the doors leading to the chapel, I froze. I couldn’t make my feet move. Once again, I was bombarded with what should have been. I could feel people’s eyes on me but try as I might, I simply could not move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement coming around the last pew. Scott was standing at my side in a moment.

“One foot in front of the other.” He muttered as he held his arm out slightly. I grasped it, probably too tightly, but he didn’t even flinch. Together, he walked me towards the alter. I didn’t bother to think about what people would say about it. People here weren’t that callous. I took my seat and took a deep breath as he quickly made his way back to his seat.

Father Carmichael performed a wonderful service for Jeff. I felt tears streaming down my face the whole time. When it was over, I excused myself to the washroom to fix my makeup and have a moment to myself. As expected, Monty was waiting for me when I was done. Not as expected, was the addition of Scott waiting with him. I cleared my throat and pointed to my face. “You’re good.” Monty said, after a quick once over.

“Okay.” I nodded. I turned my attention to Scott. “um… thank you. For what you did in there.” I told him, awkwardly.

“It was no problem. That couldn’t have been easy.” He said. I shook my head. It wasn’t.

“Are we going to Jeff’s after this?” Monty asked me. I paused. I should. I really should go. I just don’t know if I can.

“I don’t… know?” I hesitated.

“You could show up for a few minutes, make a quick round, and say you need to be alone.” Scott suggested. I looked up at him. Could I really do that?

“That’s not actually a bad idea.” Monty replied, rubbing his jaw in thought. “We could go to the docks afterwards.”

“Flask empty yet?” I asked.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). We are in a church.” He gasped, scandalously.

“I don’t mean for now. And that’s rich coming from you. When was the last time you cracked open your Bible Montgomery?” He was silent and avoided eye contact. “Exactly.”

“It’s not. But it’s not like we can’t refill it if we need to.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” I nodded. I put on another brave face as we walked out of the church on the way to the grave site to lay Jeff to rest.

We made a quick appearance at the house, during which Bryce gave me another sad hug and I smiled awkwardly at people when they gave me the look I had become so familiar with in the last week. I was able to excuse myself and leave quietly with Monty and Scott in tow. The three of us made our way to the docks, after a quick stop at my place for a flask refill and extra bottle of vodka. I sat on the railing, staring out at the ocean, blankly. My companions flanked me on either side. The metal flask was passed silently between us until it was decided that I was “thoroughly fucked up” as Monty put it. The burn of the alcohol had stopped bothering me long before that.

“I cannot deny that statement.” I said, watching the waves.

“Ready to go home then (Y/N/N)?”

I turned my head to face him with wide eyes, “no. What do you think my parents would say if I showed up at home drunk?”

“Today?” Scott asked.

“I think, given the day you’ve had, they would understand. Plus, you were hanging out with me so they know you’re safe.” Monty shrugged.

“It’s the middle of the day. And you have been drinking since before eleven. There is no way you can drive right now.” I closed my eyes to stop the spinning in my head.

“I can drive. I haven’t had that much to drink.” Scott offered. It was true. He spent most of his time with the flask, holding it in his hand.

“See? Scott can drive. It’ll be fine. But if you scratch my car, I’ll beat you.” Monty threatened.

“Sure, you will Monty.” Scott laughed. We spent the rest of the day driving around town until I sobered up enough to go home, where I fell asleep as soon as I laid on my bed.

OCTOBER/NOVEMBER

The rest of September and much of October went by in a blur. I often found myself wondering if this was going to be my life now. Was I always going to be the girl whose boyfriend died? The staring stopped after a few weeks. And a couple of weeks after that, people started to move on. It was deemed socially acceptable for everyone else to continue living their lives. Sheri Holland stopped making weird eye contact with me. I wonder what that is about. Clay had seemed to stop openly pining over Hannah Baker. The guys were able to find ways to fill their time without being upset about Jeff. Everything was so… normal. The only person who wasn’t allowed to move on, it seemed, was me.

Everything was normal. Until Hannah Baker’s suicide. In the span of two months, Liberty had lost two students. Being a year older than her, we seemed to be more removed from the situation. It was still sad though. Especially when I watched how it was impacting Clay Jensen. Jeff had taken the boy under his wing while he was being tutored. I had asked him about it one night while we were on a date. Jeff had replied in his usual, happy go lucky glass half full tone, that “Clay is helping me with my grades and I’m helping him with Hannah. They’re good for each other.” I smiled fondly at the memory. Things were so much simpler then. People still looked at me in the halls. They still whispered when I passed. It became easier to ignore them. The drunk driving posters which had upset me so much when they were posted because I knew that Jeff wasn’t drinking that night, were replaced with suicide prevention posters. For the majority of my fellow seniors, Hannah Baker was just a girl. For me, she was just a girl. A girl who my late boyfriend tried to set up with his friend. It was tragic. But in my mind, it paled in comparison to the tragedy I had experienced only a month earlier.

Eventually, everyone else had gone back to normal. Except for Scott Reed. We had never really been friends. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. And while I appreciated what he did for me, both at school and at the funeral, we didn’t talk about it. He still didn’t really say a whole lot to me. Yet somehow, he was always just… there. I would catch him watching me. Or I would notice his ears perk up when I was mentioned as the guys passed me in the halls. Montgomery of all people even noticed. “You know, Scott was asking about you at practice the other day. What’s going on there (Y/N/N)?” He mentioned to me in the library one day. I merely shrugged and waved it off.

“He hasn’t really talked to me, so I don’t know.”

**

He was watching me again. His eyes followed me as I grabbed a book for my paper in the library. Stare at me any harder and you might set me on fire. Rolling my eyes, I turned and plastered on my best and brightest smile. Scott looked down and suddenly became very interested in his own book when he noticed me walking towards him. I pulled out the chair across from him and leaned in. “What’s your deal, Scott?”

“My deal?” he said into his book.

“Why are you staring at me? And why do you act like you aren’t?”

“I don’t stare at you (Y/N).”

“Then what do you call watching someone from across the hall and across rooms? Hmmm?”

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

“Monty said you’ve been asking about me.”

He looked up. “He did?”

“Yeah. So, I’ll ask again, what is your deal?”

“Nothing.” He pushed his book aside.

“Sure. Whatever.” I huffed. Pulling out my books, I got comfortable. I’m already sitting here. Might as well take advantage. We were quiet for a while. He was trying not to watch me study. This is the most normal thing I’ve experienced in at least the last month.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh.”

“He was my friend (Y/N).”

“I know. Thank you. For what you did for me. I realized I never said it before.”

“No problem.” The bell rang. Packing up our stuff, we wordlessly bid each other goodbye and went our separate ways.

That day in the library wasn’t the only time Scott and I studied together after that. One of us would find the other sitting alone at a table or looking for something in an aisle. Our interactions were mostly wordless. A nod here and there when we sat down. Maybe the odd whispered question about homework. A shared chuckle about something we read. We never talked about Jeff again though. It was too hard. Still too fresh for both of us.

Around the middle of November, our silent study sessions began to change. They got a little less quiet. It was like we were walking on soft dirt ground rather than eggshells. We started bringing snacks. “What’s in the bag today Har?”

“Mini pancakes, chocolate chips, and banana protein bites.” I said, as I opened the containers. I set them in the middle of the table so we could both reach. We were studying quietly, both of us focused on our respective assignments. I could feel his eyes on me.

“I thought we were past this Scotty.” I muttered, smiling into my book. It was Thursday. I did English homework in the library on Thursdays.

“Old habits and all.”

“Mhmm. Right.”

“Actually (Y/N)?”

“Yes Scott?”

“Did you want to grab a coffee at Monet’s or something later?” I stopped writing. His question caught me off guard. “As friends, obviously.” He added when he noticed my hesitation.

“Sure. Say 4:30?”

“4:30 works.”

“Okay.”

I met Scott at Monet’s just after 4:30. We had both gotten stuck behind the same accident. He held the door open for me and even conceded when I suggested we pay separately since it wasn’t a date. I got a triple americano with cream and he got a drip coffee with milk.

“It’s like quarter to five in the afternoon (Y/N).”

“I know. But this is my order.” Jeff did the same thing.

“I’m not judging.”

“It seems like you’re judging a little.” I smiled.

“Swear I’m not.” He chuckled. I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. We sat at an open booth near the coffee bar. It was far enough away from the table Jeff and I used to sit at that it felt okay to sit at.

Neither of us really knew where to start in a conversation. The ten minutes of silence we sat in, made it exceedingly clear that all we really had in common was Jeff and some shared classes. I decided to break the ice. “Aside from football, baseball, and making soup, what else do you like to do for fun?”

“Video games but I don’t think that’s the answer you’re looking for. Hmm. I like driving into the city to go to the movie theater and seeing whatever is playing next.”

“No, it wasn’t. Expected that answer. Random movies sounds cool.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I volunteer at the local animal shelter. What’s the weirdest movie you’ve ever seen doing that?”

“Central Intelligence, easy. It came out last year. It wasn’t a bad movie exactly. The Rock and Kevin Hart were in it. Just not my thing.”

“Huh. I heard about that one. My cousin went to see it. She didn’t like it much either.”

“Glad to know I’m not alone. What do you do at the shelter?”

“Oh, you know, walk the dogs and puppies. Pet the cats. Clean up the odd accident. Aside from that last one, it’s pretty nice. It’s the best when you see a friend who’s been there for a while or longer, finally get their forever family and forever home.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that like?”

“It’s hard to describe. Most of the dogs get this smile and almost are able to breathe normally again. The cats get cozy in their carriers or their box. It’s really adorable. They’re content.”

“That sounds like it’s really rewarding.”

“It is. You could swing by sometime if you want. See the animals.”

He seemed skeptical and I was worried I had overstepped. I know it’s been a while since I’ve dated, but this is just as friends. So I shouldn’t be worried about overstepping. “Are you sure that’s okay? Like you’re allowed to do that?” Oh, I see. That’s a relief.

“For sure. It gives them a chance to socialize. Don’t worry, the dogs and cats that have issues with people aren’t ready to be put on the adoption list or in the adoption section until they’re able to be around people safely. Any interaction with strangers is beneficial too so they aren’t as freaked when people come to look at them to potentially adopt. Plus, who doesn’t love to play with puppies and kittens?”

He laughed heartily. “I’ll think about it. Might have to take you up on your offer. What about the other animals?”

“Oh, I’m not really comfortable handling the birds and stuff so I kind of stay away from there. It’s not a problem for the shelter. They don’t want you to be uncomfortable or afraid.”

“That makes sense. You can tag along for a random movie sometime if you want.”

It was my turn to be slightly taken aback. “I’ll think about it. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Did you finish that already?” He nodded towards my now empty mug.

“Yes. It was delicious.”

Scott chuckled to himself softly. We still weren’t sure what to talk about, because we didn’t know what we had in common aside from Jeff and school. Somehow, we found things to talk about and the hour we expected turned into two. He looked at his watch. “My folks are expecting me for dinner in approximately no minutes. I should get going.” I checked my phone and my brows rose.

“I should get going too. Before they send the cavalry to find me.”

“Library tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure Scott. I’ll see you there.” On my way home, I realized that for the first time in months, I hardly thought about Jeff this afternoon.

Our study sessions changed again after our not a date just friends’ coffee. Things were less awkward, and it seemed like we had found our footing for the most part. We talked to each other in the halls more and Scott had finally stopped watching me like a hawk. We were even cracking jokes with each other. He had begun treating me like everyone else was. Like I wasn’t going to break if he or someone else said the wrong thing. Like I was (Y/N) and not the girl whose boyfriend died.

DECEMBER

I arrived at school later than usual on a Tuesday morning. It had been a little under three weeks since our coffee not date. I immediately noticed Scott at his locker. His bag was slung over one shoulder and he was wearing his varsity jacket. He was talking to Mike. Mike was a senior in my Spanish class. I didn’t really know him all that well outside of that. I didn’t realize they were friends. When I walked past his locker, I overheard them talking about me.

“Why don’t you go for it and ask her?”

“I don’t know man. She’s really great and all but….”

“She was Jeff’s girlfriend. I get it.”

“He was my friend. I don’t want to overstep.”

“I know.” Mike said. I wanted to hear more of what they were saying so I bent down and undid the heel strap on my wedges. I fiddled with it while they talked. “This is going to sound horrible. I realize that so don’t hate me. I miss him as much as the next guy. I really do. But… Jeff isn’t here anymore, Scott. He’s gone.” You’re right Mike. That is horrible. “There isn’t really a line to overstep. It’s not like anyone can do anything to fix it. It just… is.”

“But do I want to be the guy who asks his dead friend’s girlfriend on a date?” A date? My cheeks flared. I couldn’t say that the idea hadn’t crossed my mind that Scott was an option. I had just felt absolutely terrible for it as soon as I did.

“Maybe you need to be. Maybe that could help both of you.”

“Help us what Mike?” Scott asked, the unease clear in his tone.

“Help you move…” Mike paused, “on isn’t the right word. Forward? That sounds better. Help you move forward. She needs someone and from what I’ve seen, she has Monty, those two girls who basically stopped talking to her after Jeff died, a couple of randoms she doesn’t seem to like that much, the baseball team-but it seems like they keep her around out of pity. And you. She has you.”

“And how would asking her on a date help me?”

“You have Monty, Charlie, and the baseball team. You think I think you like the rest of the team?”

“No.” He admitted.

“Exactly. And you have her. Jeff was your friend. He was her boyfriend. And he died. You both need someone to get through that. Because going through it when you feel like you’re alone, sucks. Besides, (Y/N) doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to stop being friends with someone if they ask her out and she isn’t interested in that. So, either way, she won’t not be in your life.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Course I am. Now, go. Go shoot your shot. I gotta get to math.”

My eyes widened when their conversation ended abruptly like that. I wasn’t prepared. Quickly, I stood and sped off to my own locker. I had barely had time to open it and pretend to look for something before Scott was behind me. “Hey Ticat.”

“Oh, uh. Hey Scott.”

“Whatcha looking for?”

“Book for English.”

“Cool, cool.”

“Mhmm.” Oh my God this is awkward. Please don’t ask. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. Someone pulled my attention away before Scott could say anything else.

“(Y/N)!”

“What?”

“Monty and Alex just got into it in the parking lot. You have to come see this.” Once again this morning, my eyes widened. They’ll probably stick like this if it happens again today.

“I’ll be right there.” I turned to Scott, abandoning my bogus search, “I uh… I need to go take care of that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to study today.” Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

“No problem. Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, text me.” I called as I ran off.

I skipped our study sessions for the next week and I was cautious with our texts. It was like we were back at the beginning of our friendship. Could you even call it a friendship? Well, technically Friday wasn’t skipping. I had a doctor’s appointment. Scott didn’t appear to pick up on the change though. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was oblivious, like most other boys, or if he was just as freaked out as I was by the idea of dating. I used the time in the week that I should have been studying and would have been spending with Scott, to think about him. I thought about how easy our conversations had become and how comfortable and normal I felt with him. The way his piercing blue eye shone when he laughed. Or the way they narrowed slightly when he was silently judging some stupid comment his friends made. About how white his teeth were. The way he smiled when he finished a difficult homework problem. About how soft his hair looked. Oh dear. I’ve got it bad.

I texted Scott the next morning. Library this afternoon? He answered about half an hour later, while I was eating breakfast.

Sure. I’ll save you a seat.

Cool. I have leftover chocolate chip cookies.

In free period, I found Scott at a table in the corner of the library. His stuff was spread out on what looked like exactly half of it. There was a clear divide of where his stuff ended and where the free area was. Did he save half of the table for me? He looked up from his notes when I sat down. “Hey Ticat.”

“Hey Scotty. How’s the,” I paused and looked at his notes, “calculus coming?”

“It’s coming. I have a test tomorrow and I have no idea how I’m going to pass.”

“I can try to help you?”

“I’ll see how far I can get with this and go from there?”

“Of course.” I pulled out my geography notes and the cookies. We easily fell back into our usual silent study. It was like I hadn’t been bailing on him for a week.

When the bell rang, we packed up our belongings and snuck sly glances at each other.

“Walk you to class?”

“Sure.” I nodded and threw my book bag over my shoulder.

“How have you been this week?”

“You know. Busy.”

“Yeah. How was the doctor?”

“Good. I got a clean bill of health.”

“That’s good.” I cleared my throat, awkwardly. What happened to the way things were last week? “Hey (Y/N). Uh, did you want to maybe see a movie sometime?”

“A random see what’s playing next, movie?”

“Sure. Or, you know. You could pick a movie and we could see that.”

“Scott?” I stopped walking and stepped to the side of the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?”

“What would you say if I was?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“I’d say I thought you would be much smoother and more direct. And also, I think I would like that.”

“Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure. Saturday works for me.”

“Awesome.” He stepped back into the crowded hall and walked me to class. Maybe Mike is right. Maybe this will be good for us. For me.

Saturday morning, I got up early to get ready. We had decided he would be at my place at 12:30. Since it had been so long since I had been on a first date and… and my last date had been with Jeff, I was more than a little anxious. I wasn’t sure what to wear. I wasn’t sure how to do my hair. I couldn’t call anyone to ask because I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell people I was going on a date. Staring at my closet didn’t really help the indecision. Jeans? Do people wear jeans on a first date? I pulled a few pairs out. A skirt is too formal. And I don’t want to make the wrong impression. Shirt? I need to wear a shirt. Flicking through the hangers, I picked a couple of choices that were nice but not too nice. Options in hand, I laid them out on the bed. The jeans were easy to pare down to one choice. I went with a comfortable pair of Levi’s. Again, they were nice, but not too nice. A safe choice. I ended up choosing a striped high neck tank top and grabbed a black cardigan to wear on top. Pulling a pair of flats out, I slipped them on and fixed my hair. I side braided it quickly and pulled a few pieces out to frame my face. It looked effortless. Presentable and like I thought about it, yes. But still effortless, nonetheless.

The doorbell rang just before 12:30. “I’ll get it!” I called out to my parents in the other room.

“K.” Mom responded. I hopped over to the door. Scott was standing on my porch with his hands in his pocket. His usual varsity jacket was traded for a simple grey hoodie.

“Hey (Y/N).”

“Hey Scott. Just let me grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Purse in hand, Scott and I walked out to his car. He opened the door for me, and I smiled shyly at him. Why are you acting so shy? It’s Scott Reed. It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before. Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because I’m going on a date with him?

“You look… really pretty.”

I blushed and looked down briefly. “Thank you. I wasn’t really sure what to wear, to be honest. You look pretty too.” I realized what I said, as soon as the words left my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that. Oh, my word. Scott burst out laughing. “Uh. I mean. Handsome. You look handsome. Very put together.”

“No, no. I’ll take pretty. I’m confident enough in my manhood that it’s a compliment. Not every day a girl calls me pretty. Let alone one I’m interested in.”

“Trust me, it happens. It might not be to your face. But it does happen.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” We were quiet for a time. My face was still pink from embarrassment. “Did you have any particular movie in mind?”

“No, not really. I thought we could give your whatever movie is next thing a go?”

“I like the way you think. As long as it isn’t 2001. Because there isn’t a more boring film in existence.”

“Oh my God, I know right? I had to see it with my cousin once for ‘family bonding time’ and I fell asleep like twice.”

“Your family does bonding time too?”

“Ugh. You don’t even want to know.” I sighed dramatically.

“Tell me about it next time?” Woah. Next time? That… doesn’t actually sound that bad.

“Next time? We haven’t even gotten through a movie together and you’re already talking about next time?”

“Well- I- uh- we-.”

“Scott. Relax. Ask me again on the way home?”

“Okay.” He sounded relived.

When we arrived at the Crestmont, the ticket person was staring blankly out the booth’s window. The joys of the Saturday afternoon shift, I guess. “Welcome to the Crestmont.”

“Hi. How are you?” Scott asked the boy. His name tag read Andrew.

“Good. And you guys?”

“Good.” We answered together.

“How can I help you?”

“Can we get two tickets to whatever is playing next?”

“Two tickets to Ferdinand in not 3D. That’ll be ten dollars please.” Scott handed him the cash and I took the tickets. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you.” I said.

Inside, the concession worker greeted us in a much kinder tone than the ticketer. “Any chance you’ll let me pay for the snacks?”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, come on Scotty, you drove and paid for tickets. The least you could do is let me pay for snacks.”

“No, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it Ticat.”

“Please?” I looked at him with my best puppy dog eyes. I could see the resolve begin to crack. “Pretty please?”

“Ugh. Fine. You can buy the snacks.” He caved, dramatically.

“Yay.” I said, softly. The cashier looked like she was trying not to laugh but she was smiling. “Hi. Can I get a pack of gummy bears and a medium Cherry Coke, please?” I turned to Scott, “are we sharing popcorn? I don’t really eat very much.”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay. And a large popcorn. And whatever he would like.”

“Can I get a pack of sour patch kids and a medium orange Fanta, please?”

“Coming right up.” I paid her and caught Scott grimacing in the corner of my eye. The puppy dog eyes always work. With our snacks in hand, we found some decent seats, given the time of day we were there. The movie was adorable. While it was technically for children, I found it to be incredibly heartwarming. Somewhere around thirty minutes into the film, our hands found each other on the shared armrest. We turned and smiled shyly at each other.

After the movie was done, we walked back to his car, hand in hand. It felt strange but also kind of nice. “I’m getting snacks next time, if I have to steal your wallet.”

“Scott Reed, commit a crime? Why I never.”

“You’d get it back after the movie.”

“Fine. But I thought next time was when I got to bore you with family bonding time stories.”

“Only because I get to bore you with mine. And fine. Then the third date.”

“It’s a date.”

JANUARY

Scott and I had been dating for about a month by now. We were keeping it on the down low. I wasn’t ready to announce to people that I was no longer the sad, grieving, heartbroken girl who was destined to be alone that they thought I should be. Scott understood that. As far as anyone at school was concerned, Scott and I were just friends. We had already been studying together so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that we were still doing that. They must have missed all the coy or longing glances we shot each other. If anyone saw us together outside of school, they assumed we were just helping each other through Jeff’s death.

Scott and I were on a date at Monet’s. It was a Sunday afternoon. It was abuzz with patrons looking for an afternoon pick me up after church or brunch. But to us, it may as well have been empty. We were still in that ‘we are the only two people who exist when we are together’ stage. Scott had just gotten back from ordering us a couple of refills. He had memorized my order already. I thought it was the sweetest thing. “So, we’ve never really talked about it but,” he paused. Oh no. Please don’t ask about Jeff. I’m not ready to get into all of that. And I don’t want to do it in public. I’m going to cry. I know I will. “you and Monty seem pretty close. What’s the story there?” Oh, that’s it? Just Montgomery? Phew.

“Not really much of a story. We grew up next door to each other before my parents moved across town in eighth grade. His family moved in about a year after mine did. I kind of took him under my wing, especially as we got older. There weren’t many kids our age in the neighbourhood. Or at least, none our moms would be okay with us spending time around. So, we had each other.”

“Interesting. He never mentioned it.”

“Well, he likes to keep his home life… private. Or….” I paused, unsure of how much Scott knew. It wasn’t my place to air that information unless necessary. Which, if you ask Monty, was never.

“As private as he can when his dad is his dad.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. He’s crashed on my couch a few times. And it’s kind of hard not to notice the bruises.”

“Yeah. Unless you’re and authority figure at school in this town apparently.” I muttered, bitterly. Scott scoffed in agreement.

“Your parents never…?”

“Offered to help? Of course, they did. He always refused. And as long as he knew he could escape to our place and be safe, they felt it ‘wasn’t their place to interfere’.” I rolled my eyes.

“I see.” He nodded, rolling his eyes too. “My parents are the same way. Give the kid a safe place for the night, some breakfast in the morning, and send him on his way.” I nodded.

“Anyway, yeah. We grew up together. Even though we are a year apart, it never really affected our friendship. Things were a little harder for a while after we moved. But that only lasted a few weeks. Everything went back to normal soon enough.”

“Cool. It’s good that he has you. The other guys….”

“Can be terrible excuses for human beings?” Scott laughed and smirked into his cup with a raise of his brows.

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“You know, it’s weird. Because I saw it from the outside looking in, in freshman year. And then when Jeff and I started dating in sophomore year, I got to see it from the inside to a degree. I never understood how Jeff did it. Or how you do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. You and Jeff are so… good. Like inherently good. I get the teammates and ‘you’re like family’ thing. But you guys are so different from the rest of them. And I see it with Monty too. Because I see the him that he doesn’t want the guys to see. The decent him. But he fits better I guess because I know he can have his, let’s call them moments. I never understood how you could stand by and watch it. I’m not trying to attack you or anything. Just so we are clear.”

“No, no I know. I guess… I guess it’s because you don’t want to be the odd guy out. Even though Jeff never said or did anything, he was still looked at like a brother. He was able to stay in the background with all of it and almost be the glue that kept the team from falling into complete debauchery. He gave us a shred of decency. So, everyone else had something to look to. Whether they always listened to the ‘Atkins Voice of Reason’ or not is a different story. I learned a lot from him and now it’s my turn to be the voice of reason. It’s a fine line and it can be hard to walk sometimes. But someone has to.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I nodded. We spent a little longer talking about lighter topics before parting ways. We snuck a few kisses in the alley beside the building first though.

FEBRUARY

Since we had started dating, Scott had come by the animal shelter a few times to help out. He said it was to see me. I saw right through his lies. He mostly just wanted to play with puppies for a few hours. I didn’t blame him though. I would do the same thing. He surprised me on a Wednesday evening. I came back into the shelter from a walk with a German shepherd and a rottweiler. It was a long one, so they were happy to be back so they could lounge around and beg for attention. When I entered the kennels, Scott was sitting in the middle of the puppy room, surrounded by a puddle of puppies. He was being attacked by fluff. One of the labs, Daisy, was trying to scale his chest to lick his face. A terrier mix, appropriately named Jack, was trying to get his attention by gnawing on his hand. He was giggling and had the absolute brightest smile on his face. A loud bark tore my attention away from him. The rottweiler was apparently upset that I wasn’t paying attention to him. “Oh, I’m sorry Rascal. Did you need something? Do you need some attention?” I cooed and reached out to rub his head.

“Need some company? My shift is over.” I asked as I walked into the room and shut the door firmly behind me.

“Always. How was your evening?”

“It was good. Only had to deal with a few accidents. How was practice.”

“It was alright. We had more than a few accidents.” He chuckled. Daisy had appeared to have managed the climb and was cuddled against Scott’s chest.

“I see you’ve made a new friend.”

“It looks like I have. She’s very cute. Think I could convince mom and dad to let me bring her home?”

“With you going off to college next year? I don’t think so.”

“Damn. At least that one has stopped trying to eat me.” He nodded towards Jack. He was curled up in a ball in his lap, sound asleep. The rest of the puppies were either sleeping now or trying to get attention from me. I shared the pets and love as equally as I could.

“Yeah. He hasn’t learned all of his manners yet. Eating people is not the most polite thing to do when you’re trying to get adopted.” We laughed quietly together. After another half hour, it was time to call it a night and head home.

A couple of Sundays after the puppy puddle, I decided I was ready to take a big step. I was finally ready to go and see Jeff’s grave with Scott. I had been on my own before and it had been hard. I would sit and talk to him for hours. I couldn’t tell him about Scott though. I felt like we had to go together to do that. Depending on what you believe, he probably already knew about us. But I wanted to tell him anyway.

I called Scott that morning. “Hey. Are you busy later?”

“Hey Ticat. No, I’m not. Why? Something on your mind?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go to Jeff’s grave with me today. Tell him about us?”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I think so. It’s time. I feel like it’s time for him to know. I need to tell him, but I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’ll pick you up at one?”

“Okay.”

I decided to wear a skirt and a flowy top today. It was a nice day out. Scott picked me up and we stopped at the florist for some flowers. Jeff always got me purple tulips, so I grabbed a bouquet of them to leave on his headstone. At the cemetery, I walked hand in hand with Scott. We were both silent as we wandered through the maze of people’s final resting places. When we passed Hannah Baker’s grave, I took a single flower out of the bunch and placed it on her headstone.

It was both so long and yet much too fast before we were standing at the foot of Jeff’s grave. I neatly placed the flowers on the base of his headstone. Someone must have been by to visit recently because there was a worn-out baseball cap hanging off the corner. I could feel Scott’s eyes on me as I sat down and smoothed out my skirt. Since I normally came alone, I wasn’t really sure where to begin or what to say. He sat down beside me but didn’t reach out to take my hand. He was letting me do everything in my own time.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, wherever you are. But I’m choosing to believe you can.” Scott started after I hadn’t said anything. “I miss you. Everyone misses you. Coach Rick is still the same hard ass he’s been. We are hanging your jersey before our season opener. There’s some argument about if it should just be the team or if we should do it at the pep rally. I think you would want it to just be us.”

“Mrs. Davidson finally stopped reading out loud to us in Literature this week. Remember how she would just go on, and on, and on about the smallest, most insignificant details? And we don’t have to listen to her boring, monotone voice read every class now.”

“We have a chance at making state again this year. It won’t feel the same without you though. The guys are going a little crazy but I’m keeping things together. I think (Y/N) being around helps though. She really is amazing man. You have no idea how lucky you were to be with her. Or maybe you do. With the way you paraded her around like she was your pride and joy.”

“We really had something special. And I wish you were still here to keep sharing it with me. But you aren’t. And eventually, that will be more okay. And it will hurt less. But for now, it sucks. And it hurts. But I’ve started learning how to get through it. And I have help.” I reached out to take Scott’s hand in mine. He squeezed it. “Scott has been there for me every step of the way. Even the times when I wouldn’t be there for me if I were him. He’s seen it all. Heck, he’s seen me puking on the side of the road.”

“Or getting piss drunk at the docks.” I pushed him lightly.

“Yes. And he’s shown me that even though it hurts, I can let someone in again. I can be happy again. We’ve been together for a couple of months now. It’s harder some days than others. But he’s always there for me, no matter what. I understand why you liked him so much. He makes it hard not to. I see parts of you in him and it makes me smile on the hard days.” I had to pause because I was getting choked up.

“I see why you loved her so much. She makes it hard not to. She’s kind and smart and selfless. Even when she doesn’t need to be, she is. I wish I didn’t have to be, because you should still be here, but I am so thankful that I have the privilege of being with her. I hope you know that I will take care of her and I work every day to make her feel as loved and important as you made her feel. Our story can’t compare to yours, but I hope it makes you proud.” My tears had started to fall, and Scott pulled me into his lap. I cried into his shoulder. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I miss Jeff. When my tears were under control, I looked at Scott for a moment. I looked back at Jeff’s headstone and was silent for a while. I was the first to stand. Brushing the dirt off my skirt, I reached out for Scott’s hand. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I moved the ball cap on top of the flower stems so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind.

“I love you.” I whispered. Turning around, Scott and I walked back to the car silently and drove home in somber, yet comforting silence.

MARCH

I was asleep on Scott’s chest when my phone began buzzing on the bed beside me. I slowly woke up and groggily searched for the unexpected noise. “Hello?” I whispered; my voice thick with sleep.

“(Y/N)?” Monty’s voice came through the other end of the line. He sounded like he was in immense pain. I sat up slowly, so I didn’t wake Scott.

“Monty, what’s wrong?”

“My arm. It really hurts. My old man. I, fuck, I don’t think I can drive. Can you come help me?”

“Uh…” I paused, looking at the man sleeping soundly beside me. “Yeah. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” He said before he hung up.

I noted the time before waking Scott. It was just after one in the morning. “Scott.” I whispered, shaking him slightly. He grunted in response. “Scott, wake up for a second.” I urged again.

“Hmm? Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled as he woke up.

“I need to go take care of something. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You can stay here and go back to sleep. If I’m not back when you wake up, you can go home or you can stay here. If you stay there is cereal in the cupboard, and K-cups under the Keurig. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay (Y/N).” He muttered, already falling back asleep.

After quickly changing into a clean shirt and sweatpants, I ran downstairs. I left Scott a note on my dresser so he wouldn’t be too confused if he didn’t remember my telling him goodbye. I pulled up in front of Monty’s house and we drove silently to the hospital. I really hate it here. “What are we telling them this time?” I asked after I paid for parking.

“Sex?”

I blinked at him slowly. “What the hell kind of sex results in a possibly broken arm?”

“The really kinky kind?”

“Pick something better.”

“I fell down the stairs?”

“Alright. That could be believable.” With that, we made our way into the ER to have his arm fixed. We waited an hour to be seen and then another forty-five minutes for an X-ray.

“It looks like you won’t need surgery. I will need to cast it though.” The doctor advised.

“Alright.” Monty replied calmly, the pain meds having done their job. The doctor produced a bin of colours to choose from.

“Pick a colour and I’ll have you on your way soon.” He looked through them and decided on blue. Once wrapped and we were going to be on the way, the doctor added, “turn on the light next time.”

“Will do Doc. Thank you.” Monty replied and waved with his good hand.

Once we were in the car and on the way to my place, I realized I would need to explain Scott being over to him. Just tell him. I sighed before speaking. “Hey, so my parents are out of town, but you’ll need to sleep in the guest room.”

“Uh… okay? Why?” he asked.

“Because?”

“Because why?”

I felt my face heat up a bit. “Um… my room might already be… occupied?” I squeaked. I peeked over and his eyes widened.

“You mean…?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Who is it?”

“Scott?” I said, my voice raising an octave or two. Monty breathed out a whistle.

“Are we okay with that?”

I paused again, thinking. “Yes. Yeah, we are.”

“Well alright then.” he replied, leaning back and getting comfortable in the passenger seat. The house was quiet when we got back around four-thirty. Monty was tucked in the guest room as I slinked my way back into my own room. Scott was still sleeping soundly in bed. I crawled in beside him and went back to sleep for a few hours.

The following morning, I woke up and quietly made my way downstairs for breakfast. Monty followed not long after me, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a mug of coffee. I waited until he sat down and had a few sips before greeting him. “Morning Monty. Sleep okay?”

“Morning (Y/N). I slept okay. You?”

“It was alright. Warmer than I’m used to.”

“I’ll bet it was.” He smirked at me.

“Oh shush you.” Monty chuckled softly as I rolled my eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah. I am.” I nodded, smiling.

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded and took another sip of coffee. We heard footsteps coming downstairs and looked up.

“Morning (Y/N).” Scott muttered from the middle of the stairs.

“Morning Scott.” I replied.

“Morning Scotty.” Monty greeted, as though this was a perfectly normal Saturday morning. Scott almost missed a step, he stopped so fast.

“Uh. Morning Monty?” He looked to me and raised a brow.

“He needed me last night. I had to tell him.” I shrugged.

“Okay.” He said, walking over to the Keurig and making a cup of coffee. The three of us stood around the kitchen slightly awkwardly looking at each other.

“Same rule applies as with my car. I’ll beat you if you scratch her.”

“Jump right to the threats, why not?” I muttered into my mug.

“I’m sure you will, Monty.”

“Damn straight.”

“Even though I’m your favourite friend?”

“(Y/N) is my favourite.”

“I’m your person. Not your favourite.”

“Yes you are.”

“You don’t call your favourite when you kill someone and need help hiding the body.”

“Excuse me?” Scott interjected, alarmed.

“She made me watch Grey’s Anatomy with her over spring break a couple of years ago.”

“Oh. I see. How was that?”

“It’s network tv with a lot of censored sex. And drama.”

“No boobs?”

“No boobs.”

“Yeah, it would be better with boobs. And if everyone stopped leaving and dying.” I added.

“Does this mean I have to watch it with you?”

“No, you might have to sit through an episode of The Bachelor though. I mostly just watch it because I don’t understand how none of those stupidly attractive people can find dates on their own.”

“You hate watch it. I can’t wait.”

“Well, you’ll get to look forward to what happens after we get done hate watching it.” I retorted, lowly. Scott rose his brow suggestively.

“Oh really?”

“And on that note! Who wants… whatever I can make (Y/N) cook with eggs, peppers, and… meat? What is this meat?” Monty cut in as he went through my fridge.

“I think it’s pork. Could be ground turkey though. There’s potatoes in the cupboard. Breakfast hash?”

“Sounds delicious.” Scott answered. I moved around him and got the bag of potatoes so I could start helping.

“How long has this been going on for anyway? Also remember that I’m still here so you can’t be all touchy.”

Scott looked at me before answering. “Since December.”

“How did I not notice?” Monty said after a pause.

“I don’t know. Too busy with sports and Bryce? There’s also spinach. Do I add the spinach?” I turned around and the boys were both making faces. “No spinach then.”

“I was not busy with Bryce.”

“Mhmm. That’s not why you blew off our movie marathon tradition?”

“Okay, point made.”

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s okay, hurts like a bitch. Why, Scott?”

“Just asking.” Scott turned to me and whispered, “his dad?” I nodded.

“No flirting.”

“I didn’t get to kiss her good morning, give me a break.” I turned and watched Scott playfully flip Monty off. Then, he placed a soft kiss to my lips and I smiled into it. “Good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning handsome.”

***

“Monty knows now.”

“He does.” I replied, leaning back into his chest on the couch. “He’s okay with it.”

“That’s good.”

“You aren’t going to be jealous, are you? Because there is nothing going on between us.”

“No, I know. What was the fight about this time?”

“Who knows. He called me and said he needed me, so I went. He wanted to tell the doctors it was a sex accident.”

Scott laughed. “What the fuck kind of sex would that have been?”

“The kind that would have broken his wrist, not his forearm.”

“You would have been the top?”

“Yes. So, you see why we couldn’t say that.”

“Right. That’s why.”

“We said he fell down the stairs.”

“Plausible.”

“Anyway, no idea what it was. But knowing his dad, it could have been anything. There’s a reason I don’t go to his house very often.” I left it at that and we cuddled on the couch for a while.

“Hey Scotty?”

“Yeah, (Y/N/N)?”

I sat up and turned to him. “Now that Monty knows, do you think we could tell other people? Maybe… maybe enough time has passed that people will understand?”

“I think we can tell people, if you want to. I don’t care what people think. I would have told everyone in January if you wanted to.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never been the girl whose boyfriend died before.”  

“I know. People might talk for a few days, but they’ll move on. No one expects you to have stayed single for the rest of your life.”

“Not my whole life necessarily. Just the rest of high school.” I joked.

“The people who complain can fuck off.”

“I guess. And things have kind of gone back to normal now. Or as normal as they can.”

“We don’t have to tell people if you don’t want to (Y/N).”

“I do. I think we need to. I don’t want to hide you anymore. It’s time for me to start living my life in the open again.”

“And honestly, I’m tired of hiding you.” We spent a little longer watching tv together. It was nice having someone I could just sit and be with again. We each took turns choosing shows. “I should probably head home soon sweetheart.”

“Okay. I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course.” Together we gathered up his things and tidied the kitchen. Scott kissed me goodbye, and I leaned against the front door after he had driven away.

Monday would be the last big thing I had to do before graduation. It was the last step in beginning to move forward. I would always love Jeff Atkins. He would always be a part of me and hold a special place in my heart. But I had realized over the last several months that I could be happy again. I wouldn’t be betraying him for allowing myself to fall in love with someone again. And I had Scott Reed to thank for that.

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 5

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) This one gets kinda heavy again. Don’t blame me! Blame the season! But you might wanna recheck the warnings on the masterlist just to be sure, and know the Sourwolf lovin’ and content is coming! (And hope to high heaven that Jennifer Blake isn’t here to stay. Please. Release the Sourwolf, Ma’am.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 3,693

Xxx

“You two are idiots!” you hissed after Isaac and Boyd as they made their way down the sidewalk in front of the McCall house, back toward Stiles’ waiting Jeep.

“Today would be nice!” Stiles hollered from behind the steering wheel, his fingers drumming impatiently while he waited. “I only agreed to do this because I owe Scott, and my car is already starting to smell like dog, so can we please move this along so I’m not late for school?”

Climbing into the backseat and sliding over to make room for your packmates, you reached forward and whacked the back of Stiles’ head. “No dog jokes.”

“You didn’t have to follow us, you could have stayed in the car with Stiles like you were when we got here.”

You leveled a glare on Isaac as he smirked at you from the seat opposite you. “I had to get out of the front seat anyway, so I figured I would see what the idiocy was all about.”

Boyd let out a snort from the passenger seat and shook his head gently, despite his small grin, before he turned and looked out the front passenger window. He didn’t talk much, especially since Erica, but he was always listening. That’s why he was always one step ahead.

You smiled at him briefly before Isaac snapped in front of your face, making you scowl in his direction again. “Go to school, Y/N. No need for you to be at the loft any more than you need to.” After hearing about what you saw the night they were all trapped at the motel, they had all been for you not going back there unless it was necessary. They didn’t exactly want to go, either, but their frustrations with Derek could wait for a time when everyone’s imminent safety wasn’t at stake.

“I still don’t totally get your plan, but I hope you don’t all wind up dead.” You shuddered. “This could go badly so many different ways….”

“Be optimistic, Y/N!” Stiles protested, looking at you in the rearview mirror as he pulled up in front of the loft. He turned in his seat to meet your gaze after putting the car in park, letting the engine idle. “If their plan works, hopefully you can move back to the loft once this all settles and get out of my hair.”

You ruffled his hair as you made your way out after your packmates, smiling at his cries of protest, and hesitating before fully getting into the passenger seat. Turning around you gave Isaac a hug, ignoring his groan and awkward back pat in return. “Just don’t do anything stupid.” Turning to Boyd, you wrapped him in an embrace, which he surprisingly returned. “I need you guys.”

“We need you, too, Y/N.” Boyd was even smiling when he pulled away, holding on to your shoulders. “Which is why you have to go to school and cover for us.” He turned you and gave you a gentle squeeze on the shoulders before lightly shoving you into the Jeep. “Remember what we told you to say?”

You grimaced. “Yes. Do I have to?”

“Only if you want this plan to work,” Boyd smirked.

“Fine,” you huffed, shutting the door, and leaning out the window to finish the conversation.

“And be as descriptive as possible,” Isaac snickered, and you glared at them both before it melted into a small laugh.

“You owe me. Big time.” Turning to Stiles, you saw that he had just finished fixing his hair, and it took all you had not to reach out and mess it up again.

“Don’t even.” Stiles held up a finger in warning at you.

“I didn’t do anything!” you cried, grinning.

“You thought it, and you know it, and lying is not a good attribute, Y/N.”

You turned and waved at your two friends, smiling as they chuckled and turned toward the loft, Stiles putting the Jeep into gear and pulling off in the opposite direction.

Xxx

The rest of the day happened in a whirlwind, coming to a screeching halt as you rounded the last set of stairs up to the loft.

You heard a scuffle, then suddenly the loft seemed to emit what looked like lightning. The twins left Jennifer by the door and walked inside, their footsteps sounding like they were walking through water. Isaac quickly leapt to Jennifer’s side and held her close.

You slowly approached the door, feeling as if you weren’t really living what you were seeing. To your horror, you heard Kali yell something, the twins sloshing around to grab Derek and force him into submission like a disobedient puppy. They forced his claws to stay extended, and Kali lifted Boyd up and onto them, the only noise a soft groan as his abdomen was pierced.

You saw Derek break. You felt it.

Kali said something, you weren’t paying attention, and she exited the loft with the twins, stopping and rolling her eyes when she had to step around you because you wouldn’t move. You couldn’t. Your feet were rooted to the spot. You stared at the twins as they passed you in the hall with a sneer. Keeping your head high, eyes narrowed at them, you waited until they were down several flights of stairs before you let out the breath you were holding.

A small smirk worked its way up your face knowing you’d gotten under the Alpha Pack’s skin, but it quickly vanished as you looked back up and to the loft doorway, where Isaac held a terrified looking Jennifer.

Even if she was lying about everything, she sure played the distress convincingly. Enough that you doubted some of what you knew to be true.

He met your gaze over her head, gently shaking his head to tell you what was waiting in the loft wasn’t good.

Boyd and Derek were exchanging some faint conversation, and while you wanted to rush and help, the moment felt special, almost sacred, and you didn’t want to break that.

Only moments later Boyd fell to the floor, and you heard no heartbeat from your fallen friend. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you turned your gaze to Derek to see him staring at his hands as they shook in front of him.

Stiles, Lydia, and Cora all rushed past you, Lydia hovering in the doorway. Brushing past Jennifer and Isaac on the threshold of the loft, you stilled once again a few steps in at the scene you were met with.

Cora lay sobbing over Boyd’s body. Derek knelt right beside him, his hands covered in blood and held in front of him as if he didn’t recognize them as his own, or didn’t want to. Stiles was behind Derek, hand on his shoulder in comfort. No words were exchanged, the only sounds were Cora sobbing, Derek’s ragged breathing, and the water covering the loft floor lapping at any movement.

As if he could sense you, Derek snapped his head your way, looking you over from the ground up as if to make sure you were okay, before landing on your eyes and finally holding your gaze firmly. Something swirled in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen in months, since before you were turned.

You had been a long term resident of Beacon Hills and had met the Hale family on several occasions growing up, enough to know when Peter was scheming and to know Derek’s wide array of moods. This is one you’d only seen once before the fire, and anytime after when the fire was brought up.

Pain. Failure. Loss. A swirl of grief stared up at you with blood stained hands.

And without exchanging a word, you walked around behind him, putting a hand on his other shoulder, mirroring Stiles to your side. Slowly you knelt in front of him, careful to keep your hand on his shoulder, and brought your other hand up to his cheek. Purposely putting yourself between him and Boyd, and his grieving sister, you needed him to focus on one thing at a time before it all became too much.

Reaching down with both your hands, you took hold of his, and he flinched, trying to pull them back, but you held on tightly.

“Derek,” you whispered, not trusting your own voice.

His eyes went from the floor to staring at his hands again, and finally up to you. And when he met your gaze again, you almost broke completely. But you couldn’t.

So much pain and death and in general horrible things happened around him, no matter how he tried to do the opposite. People literally used his hands to kill someone else. And despite how hard he fought, and went against everything bad, he was still the one made to take the fall.

“Derek, this isn’t your fault.” Your voice was breaking with emotion, you didn’t trust it more than the small sound it currently offered. “It was Kali and the others. You fought. You fought trying to protect them, protect everyone, and you almost did, but they played dirty.” Giving his hands a tight squeeze, you pulled them closer to your chest and saw the hesitance in his eyes. Slowly lifting them up to sit on your shoulders, you placed your hands firmly on top of his, rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs.

Smiling cautiously, you held his gaze. “See? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Those same hands that won’t kill a spider for me are right here.” He smiled gently at the remark, and you let yourself return it. “These hands did not kill Boyd, Kali’s did.” You swallowed thickly, feeling the lump of unshed tears growing in your throat. “Now, I need you to do something for me.” His eyes darted all over your face, before holding your gaze once again with a gentle nod. “First, we have to take care of Boyd. We’ll put him by Erica? I think he would like that.” Derek nodded again after a moment of hesitation. “You know his ghost would haunt us if we didn’t.” Everyone in the pack let out a little laugh in agreement, letting tears fall unabashedly.

Pulling his hands down into the water that filled the loft, you rinsed them gently to remove the blood as best you could, speaking after a moment as you did so. “Then, after a proper send off, we need to get the water out of this loft. I have no idea how, but until then you should go stay with Peter in his apartment.”

“He can stay with me,” Jennifer offered.

Going rigid at the sound of her voice, you turned almost mechanically her way. You’d forgotten she was even here. Keeping your voice a monotone, you looked her dead in the eyes as you spoke. “I think it’s best that he’s with family right now.”

“I’ll make sure he gets there,” Cora said from behind you, sniffing loudly as her tears calmed down for the moment.

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled at her in thanks.

She returned the gesture. “I might even stay, myself. Family time, however dysfunctional, sounds nice.” You didn’t miss the way she eyed Jennifer with mild disdain, and Derek with unabashed concern.

Turning back to Derek, looking down to see his hands now clean, you turned your grip in them to hold them, fingers interlaced tightly with his, and a smirk rising on your face. “Then, this last part I know you’ll love - revenge. After we take care of Boyd, then the loft, then we plot our revenge, and get justice for our friends and everyone else they have made suffer.” Leaning in close to his face, you whispered, “And that includes you.” Giving his hands a final squeeze, you rose to your feet, pulling him with you.

Despite everything, you saw a glimmer of the old Derek shining through, and it was enough to give you hope again. That maybe Jennifer hadn’t totally brainwashed him. And she wouldn’t. Not if you could help it.

Xxx

Pulling up in front of the Stilinski house yet again, you sat in silence as Stiles put the Jeep in park, turned off the engine, and just stared out the front windshield blankly without saying a word.

You eyed him from the passenger seat, the silence tense, and the small popping sounds of the engine as it cooled down nearly made you jump each time. Steeling your resolve, you reached a hand over to place on Stiles’ forearm. He flinched gently away, but allowed the gesture with a sigh, placing his other hand firmly over yours with a soft pat. “It’ll be okay, Stiles. This sucks, I know, but we have to be there for each other. I lost him, too. Don’t shut me out.” You choked on the sadness that had been building in your throat, swallowing the small lump down, daring it to break you. You could only manage a small, wavering whisper after that. “Don’t you dare, Stiles.”

Patting your hand once again, Stiles smiled tightly, his voice heavily sarcastic. “Yeah, it’ll be okay, Y/N. We’ll be fine. I’ll just add it to my list of trauma from this week and move on. Sound good? Okay.”

Pulling away from your grasp, he opened the door and got out of the car, slamming it shut behind him. The action was so violent for Stiles, it made you jump.

He had only gotten this way a few times in the years you had known him, one of those being when his mom died. It was never easy to watch, and sometimes harder to handle, but grief had a way of doing that. And you weren’t about to let grief dictate this evening. At least, not anymore than it already had.

Climbing out of the Jeep slowly, shutting the door quietly, you followed your friend to where he held the front door open for you, his face a tight line, his gaze downcast and far away.

He gestured you through with a stilted motion, but you stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at him. Shifting your weight side to side, the squelching sound of your waterlogged shoes finally became too much in the awkward silence, so you reached down and slipped them off, holding them limply at your side on the tips of your fingers.

You’re not sure how long you both stood there, but it felt like an eternity before Stiles finally took in a sharp breath. “Are you ever going to come in?”

“After we have talked.”

“We can talk inside just fine.”

“You can distract yourself inside just fine.” Stiles let out a loud breath through his nose, looking away from you again. “We need to talk first.”

He let go of the handle and took the few steps down to where you were. “Look, I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, I really do. But we can’t talk about this out here, for a multitude of reasons.”

“So what if someone hears us?” Stiles scoffed disbelievingly. “In case you haven’t noticed, werewolves are kinda in right now. We might just become the popular kids.”

Stiles smiled despite himself, plastering his hand over your mouth. “You mean you would finally be popular. I would still be the skinny kid full of sarcastic jokes who follows you around.” You went to speak, but he wouldn’t remove his hand. “And that’s okay with me. Times like tonight, that’s just what Derek needed, a friend. Not someone with a supernatural agenda, not pity, or someone picking up on chemo signals or whatever. He just needed a hand on his shoulder to ground him, one not covered in blood, which, no offense, all of you seem to have at this point for some reason or another.”

Rain drops started to hit the top of your heads, and you looked up, blinking once or twice as it pelted your face.

“Plus, it’s raining, so……”

Stiles smirked, removing his hand, and went inside, one arm still outstretched on the handle as he waited for you, a sly grin on his face this time, his eyes meeting yours. Despite the facade, you saw his pain; tonight would haunt him for a while. Stepping up and inside, Stiles mumbled a “thank you” as you passed over the threshold past him and went directly up to his room.

“My dad is at work tonight, so we have the place to ourselves.”

“What are you suggesting?” You playfully wiggled your eyebrows. “I mean, I know grief can make you do some weird things, but…..”

Stiles held up a hand, shut his eyes, and shuddered violently. “Don’t ever-” he made a fake gagging noise- “joke about that again. I don’t need nightmares, thank you very much. I’m very successful at them on my own.”

You chuckled.

“What do you think Boyd and Erica would have to say to this situation?” You smiled ruefully, absently adjusting a pillow on Stiles’ bed.

“Oh, they wouldn’t let us hear the end of it. How we joked about it, and also, how disgusted they were at the thought of it.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “It might actually be the first thing we would agree on, come to think of it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you threw the pillow at him, which he caught with a chuckle. “You know I’m right.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it.” You cast your eyes to the side, eyeing the floor, before you flopped in the center on his bed. “You can sleep on the floor, asshole.”

“It’s my bed,” he argued.

“It’s your punishment,” you shot back.

Both of you were still in your soaked clothes, but he didn’t seem to mind. Grabbing a pair of PJs you had set out earlier in the day, he pelted them at you, hitting you square in the face. “Nice reflexes, wolf girl. Go change.”

Mocking his words in a ridiculous voice, you went to the bathroom to change, hearing him do the same, hopping around trying to get his soaked sneakers off, before he must have succeeded, only to whack himself somehow because he muttered an “ow” after a soft thud.

Walking out with your hands over your eyes, you asked, “Is it safe?” before opening them just a crack to peek with a smirk.

“Hardy, har,” he said sarcastically.

You launched back onto the bed, ready to relax, when Stiles pounced beside you and wrapped you up tight in his arms, holding your back to his chest. After the initial comfort sunk in, so did the events of the day.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” you said quietly.

“It was a really shitty move,” he agreed.

Finally letting your tears fall, they raced silent tracks across your face and onto the pillow. You felt a dampness growing on your shoulder, Stiles’ shaking behind you as he too tried to be strong, not wanting to let it out.

Once it started, it wouldn’t stop, and you knew to Stiles that meant having to take a moment and be still, which let everything else catch up to you that you did your best to run from.

Placing your hand on top of his that rested on your abdomen, you threaded your fingers with his and clutched his hand tight, letting him know he wasn’t facing it alone. Any of it.

Giving your hand a squeeze in return, a single sob came through, and it was all you could do not to match it. But you knew he needed to get out just enough to take the edge off the pain before he bottled it up for later. It wasn’t healthy, but it was how he processed things, and that was enough for you to let him. You’d be there for the fallout later.

He sniffed loudly, cleared his throat, then rested his mouth over the damp spot on your shirt. After a few moments of silence, he mumbled into your shoulder, “Sorry about your shirt.”

You chuckled, swiping at your tears with your free hand and feeling him smile into the fabric where he stayed. “It’s okay, Stiles. Sorry about your pillow.”

This time he laughed softly, the sound making you grin.

“Please stay in here tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I’m by myself. Too much going on in here.” He gently rocked his head back and forth where it still sat on your shoulder to indicate his troubled mind.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said, realizing your pun when Stiles groaned and moved his forehead to the spot on your shirt, making you giggle.

“Your jokes are the absolute worst.”

“It wasn’t intentional!”

“That’s worse!” he cried, lifting his head up to make eye contact with you as you grinned over your shoulder.

Reaching up with your free hand, you wiped away the straggling tears. His eyes bloodshot, you caught a single stray tear that escaped on the top of your thumb. Pulling it back, you smiled sadly as you stared at the tip of your finger. “Say, ‘goodnight, Boyd’.”

Stiles side eyed you.

“Whenever I was sad as a kid, my parents would wipe away my tears and tell me to say goodbye to my worries as they dried away, and to blow them away like an eyelash. I dunno. They are weird people, how do you think I came to be this way? Stop looking at me like that.”

“Goodnight, Boyd,” Stiles whispered, before blowing the tear away.

Settling into the quiet, Stiles still held you close before he spoke quietly, a smile in his voice. “Did I ever tell you about the time Boyd got us the keys to the ice rink?”

“No….”

“Or when there was a werewolf smack down on the rink while Boyd was on the…. the…. the thing that smooths over the ice?”

“No!” You laughed.

“Too bad. He was a cool dude.”

“Yeah, he was.” You smiled. “I want to know these stories, now!”

“Tomorrow, Y/N. We already said goodnight, remember? Weirdo.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99, @itscheybaby, @fandomsfanman, @sunsetcurvej What’s This?

[fruitcoops]

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

[write-orflight]

Galileo: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: None right now. but will eventually be smut.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth. 

A.N: I made the reader jewish (or from a jewish family really) for reasons I don’t even know. Message to be added to the taglist! Much love, Cia

                              Chapter 1: Venus

Spencer never really “understood” women but he thought in the passing years he got at least, a better understanding. 

He still, however, didn’t understand you or your clear adverse feelings for him. Spencer immediately thought to do what he did in most situations when he didn’t understand people. He profiled them. 

He watched you from across the room, seated in a barstool height chair so you could look into the telescope, legs crossed as you scribbled into a notepad placed on your right thigh. No ring or any form of jewelry, Which most likely meant no significant other. Your work space was clear devoid of any pictures or sentimentals except for one small photo of you and Victim #4, clearly at a bar of some sort. He looks completely in his element while you look slightly uncomfortable. You’re both smiling brightly though he’s looking straight at the camera while you’re slightly looking up at him. That, how none of his desk or items were cleared, and how you seemed to move around his stuff like you were used to the routine of it all told Spencer what he needed to know. 

“Were you dating your coworker?” Spencer asked. You stopped in your track on your way to one of the chalkboards you set up for equations. Dr. Cliff often told you it was so outdated but you preferred to do things right yourself not let a computer decide for you. You leveled a heated look to Spencer. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your partner, Jonathan Brewer.” Spencer pointed out. “You didn’t say in your initial interview that you were dating. If that was the case, that’s something we need to know. It could help find his kille--” 

“We. Weren’t. Dating.” You say, angrily. Spencer almost flinches at the pure venom that is seeping out of your voice. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, by the way. Everything I already told your agents was the truth. He was my best friend, My only friend, and now he’s dead. Please do not distract me from my work with idiotic questions again.”  You turn away from him, going back to your math. 

How dare he pretend to know anything about you and Jon. What a fucking pretentious asshole. Accusing you of sleeping with Jonathan, not that you didn’t want to… or didn’t at least think about it. You never got to tell Jonathan how you really felt about him, how he had the unfiltered ability to make the room feel lighter like you were in the zero gravity chamber, or how every shoulder press, hand on your back as he passed by, bright smiles from across the room while he did the math and you tracked Gaia would feel like lightning down your nervous system. 

You never got to tell him you were in love with him. 

And now you never will. 

You knew you were only angry at Spencer because he was able to clock you on what never occurred to Jonathan the year you’d known him in an hour of knowing you but in the end it was none of his business and he had absolutely no right. 

Thankfully, he had learned silence was a virtue and didn’t say anything the rest of the night, opting to read some of the books you had around. You stretched as you stood from your desk grabbing your bags to head out the door. Spencer also notices this and follows suit. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask as he’s following you out the door. 

“I’m your protective custody which means, I’m with you always, not just at work.” He says, awkwardly. “Did Dr. Clifton not explain?” 

“No, he did not...” You trail off. “Fine, come on.” You say going to your car, Spencer automatically climbs into the passenger seat and you drive home in silence. 

When you arrive at your apartment, the cat greets you with beady eyes from the top of his cat tower. 

“You know some people’s cats greet them at the door.” You say, approaching the tower to pet him, he purrs and pushes his head into your palm. You turn back to Spencer who is standing awkwardly by the door. “The sofa folds out if you want to take that, I guess I’ll bring you a blanket and pillow.” Spencer watches as you disappear from the room to give him the items you just said. “Don’t be confused if Alfonso is next to you when you wake up, the couch is his spot.” 

“Alfonso?” 

You gester to the cat. “Context clues, might help you out someday.” You say sarcastically. “I’m going to shower.” You brush past him on the way to what seemed to be your only sanctuary away from the doctor. 

Spencer takes this time to survey your apartment, making sure there’s no way for someone to break in without his knowledge. He pulls out the sofa bed and almost like clockwork, the small cat moved from his tower onto the corner of the couch and slept. Spencer also looked around the apartment like he would with any victim, though you weren’t one yet, he still had to figure out why you’re specifically being targeted. But he couldn’t get a gage of who you are because there was nothing that said who you were in this house. Living room was obviously designed by an interior designer, the kitchen was neat only things on the counter were a coffee maker, kettle and a stand mixer. Different plants lined your balcony along with a small telescope. The only thing he could get a reading on was that you lived here, you had a cat, and that maybe you baked. 

“Mom, I’m fine.” Spencer hears, he turns toward the bathroom to see you exiting in a pair of pajama shorts and a large Georgetown University sweater. He knew you didn’t go there but Victim #4 did, he could only assume it was his sweater. “Obviously I’m not in danger, we’re talking on the phone.” He watches you pause and roll your eyes. “No mom, this isn’t an elaborate hostage call. I told you to stop watching true crime before bed.” Spencer tries not to listen to the conversation, he really does. But it’s been a while since he’s been able to have a normal conversation like this with his mom. So of course that made him a tad jealous. 

“Mom it’s almost 7am. I should really sleep…. for the last time, mom, I have to work at night my job is to watch planets…. You’re right I’m probably not going to find a husband this way, but I also don’t want one…. I do not need a yenta, Ma! Now I really have to go, give my best to dad.” You say, hanging up. Spencer watches you groan in frustration. 

“God, can you believe that woman! I love her to death but I don’t need a fucking matchmaker, there’s a serial killer after me for god’s sake! Dating should be her last concern—“ You cut off realizing you’re ranting to a man who’s just met you and that you also despise. “You don’t give a shit about this.” You say, Spencer just tilts his head at you. You roll your eyes. “Goodnight.” You say, closing your bedroom door quickly. 

Some things stayed the same though because as soon as you hit your pillow, you were deeply asleep. 

———————————————-

Spencer wakes up in the late afternoon to the cat sprinting across his body. He opens his eyes a little to see you placing food and water in a bowl. You pet him briefly before letting him eat and then you sit at the dining table with a hot mug in your hand. 

“You made coffee?” Spencer asked, groggily. 

“Yes.” You say, obviously. 

“The pot is empty…” 

“I didn’t say I made some for you.” You looked at him. “I’m sure, they taught you how to use a coffee maker in the academy.” 

With that you turn away from him, back to the book you were reading. Spencer rolls his eyes but makes the coffee anyway, he knew if the entire day was going to be like this he’d need it.

“You know, this would probably be easier if you would stop fighting me at every turn. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. There's no point in arguing constantly.” 

“No, what would make it easier is if you caught the serial killer, so I could have my apartment back.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

Spencer just throws his arms up. He tried, he’s officially giving up trying to find common ground with this she-devil. He grabs his phone and steps into the hall for a second. 

“Oracle of Quantico, speak and be heard.” He hears Penelope say over the line. He sighs in relief at the tone of his friend. 

“Garcia, do you know if the others have found anything on this case yet?” He says. 

“No dice, my friend. Far as I know they’re still doing victimology. You know I would call you if we found anything out. Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I’m just… trying to gage how long this’ll be.” 

“Jesus Spencer, it’s been one day. It can’t be that bad.” 

“It can, Garcia, this woman….she hates me. And I don’t know why.” 

“Well what did you do?” 

“Nothing! I didn—” 

“Spencer…” Penelope said in an almost scolding tone. 

“I may have… accused her of dating Victim #4.” 

“Jonathan Brewer, her coworker. Why would you do that?” 

Spencer tells her of the things he’s found in her office as well as her sweater this morning and Garcia cuts him off. 

“Ok, I’ve heard enough.” Garcia says. “Spencer, I may not be a profiler but I understand women, especially smart, nerdy women. So you told me she has a picture of them on her desk and that she still hasn’t cleared his desk?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you see any pictures of her on his desk?” 

“No.” 

“And you already know from when we went to his apartment, there were no photos of her there either.” Penelope says, like it’s kinda obvious. “So combine that with the sweater and everything else what do you get?” 

“She was in love with him....” Spencer says, confused why it took him this long to get it. “And it wasn’t reciprocated…” 

“Points to Ravenclaw.” Penelope says. “Now you’re already a constant reminder that she’s lost someone, so bringing it up every second and accusing her of lying probably isn’t helping. She probably isn’t even angry at you, she’s just grieving, let her do that.”   

“You’re right, Garcia.” He sighs. 

“I always am. Adieu.” She says hanging up. Spencer re-enters the apartment and sees you sitting in a chair next to the window reading, he notes that you are dressed for work. You were wearing a knee length black pencil skirt with a mint green blouse. All tied together with your floor length lab coat that held your badge. Your hair was tied in a high bun and round rimmed glasses adorned your face. Spencer hated to say it but he wasn’t blind, you were breath-taking. 

“I’m leaving in 45 minutes, if you want to put on something less… firetruck-y.” Spencer looked down and he was still wearing his Pajama pants that had a pattern of fire trucks on them. 

Well, she was breath-taking until she opened her mouth. 

Spencer just sighed and went to change. 

The two of you drove to the office in silence, the only sound being classical music playing through her speakers. You put the car in park and you start to get out when you feel a hand circle your wrist you pull your arm back and look at the man in disgust. 

“Wait before you get out.” Spencer says looking you in the eye. “I wanted to apologize for making accusations about your relationship with Jonathan. It was not my place to do that.” 

“It wasn’t.” You say. 

“I know. I’m sorry… we’re going to be with each other constantly until we find his killer so I don’t want to fight everyday. Friends?” He says offering his hand for her to shake. Spencer didn’t like shaking hands but if it would show her he was serious he’d do it. 

“I appreciate the apology but we’re only working together briefly, there’s no reason for us to be friends. Colleagues.” She agrees, looking at his hand but not shaking it. Just choosing to get out of the car without another word. 

God, you were not going to make this easy. Spencer knew that for a fact.

[heavcnslyre]

ricky bowen x reader series! part two

— starstruck au!

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you’re dragged along to camilla’s plans to try to meet ricky bowen— but the wrong one out of the two of you ends up in an encounter with him instead.

WARNINGS a lot more swearing this chapter rather than last, you have to get stitches

NOTES this chapter is actually pretty long. i’m not super happy with how it ends but it’s going to pick up in the next chapter exactly where it left off in this one, i just didn’t want to keep adding onto this one lmaoo. also there are some parts that are lowkey written poorly but i’m tired and it’s not too bad HAHAH enjoy!

edit 1-16-21 i changed the song he was singing if u saw it before no u didn’t!!!

(y/n) - your name

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!

lowercase intended.

“bye ash! have a good time!” you called as ashlyn was leaving. she waved goodbye and drove away in her parents car. it had taken a couple of hours for her to be happy with her outfit and hair/makeup, but she ended up looking really nice (not that she didn’t before, she just seemed to glow when she felt prettier). as you turned back into the house, camilla grabbed your arm and pulled you into your bedroom.

“what the hell cam?” you asked as she closed the bedroom door.

“mom and dad just agreed to me taking you around the city tonight and we’re going to nini’s party,” she said, turning towards the still packed suitcases and digging through them. you watched, eyebrows raised.

“really? what’s in it for me? i’m not just going to follow you to la to stalk this poor guy.”

camilla rolled her eyes and holds a dress up against herself in the mirror. “you can meet nini, maybe. you like her music, don’t you?”

“that dress is mine. and yeah i like her music but i’m not crashing her birthday party just to meet her.”

“whatever. you can wait in the car. i’ll just.... buy you something later.” she put the dress she had down and grabbed another one.

“how about you stop talking about ricky? i’ll go if you stop.”

camilla gave you an incredulous look. “stop talking about him? have you met me? or seen him?”

“fine. at least for the rest of the trip. take it or leave it.” she sighed and paused for a second, before nodding and grabbing the first dress she had.

“alright. but i’m wearing your dress.”

after the short drive to los angeles, camilla drove around, trying to find parking. but, naturally, it was los angeles, and there was no available parking. after more than ten minutes of searching, camilla sighed in frustration and pulled over, directly next to a ‘no parking’ sign. you pursed your lips and pointed up at it.

“cam, this is very clearly a no parking zone. you’re going to get a ticket,” she ignored you and dug in the backseat for her bag.

“i’ll be back in less than half an hour. stay put. if someone tries to talk to you... ignore them. or punch them, or something. i don’t care. just be safe.”

“you too,” you said, although it came out as more of a question. she moved the mirror to face her, made a few adjustments to her hair, then left the car quickly. you sighed and sank into your seat. it was going to be a while.

after almost half an hour with no sign of your sister, you texted her a simple ‘you okay?’ but recieved no response. you fidgeted in your seat, switching between random apps on your phone, trying to pass the time. eventually, close to 50 minutes pass and you sighed, realizing that you should probably go look for her.

you wrung your hands out and grabbed your bag, opening your door quickly and rushing across the street. the street was crowded and the main entrance to the club was packed full of fans wanting to get into the building. you stood on your toes, trying to find camilla, but you didn’t see her anywhere. ready to give up, you spot an alleyway by the building. you considered it for a moment before mentally saying fuck it and walking towards the alleyway. you’re busy looking for an entrance when a door opens suddenly and you ram into it, head first, knocking you onto your butt.

“ow, fuck,” you said, rubbing your head and wincing as you saw you were bleeding.

“oh, god!” the person who opened the door exclaimed as they knelt onto the ground to be at your level. “i’m so sorry— i didn’t know you were there.”

“it’s... it’s fine,” you said. “how could you have known?”

“can i help? i might have some bandaids in my car...”

you shook your head and look up at the person. “no, it’s... wait, are you ricky—”

he put one hand over your mouth and the other on the side of your face. “i’ll give you tickets to my next concert or something if you don’t scream my name.”

you shoved his hand off of you. “didn’t have to make it sound so kinky. i don’t want tickets to your show.”

“i...i didnt—” ricky stuttered but trailed off as a car pulls up in the alley. someone comes out of the drivers seat quickly.

“ricky, what the hell is going on?” the person asked as they advance towards you quickly. the person in the passenger seat gets out shortly after the first person and walked towards you as well.

“i... i hit her with my door on the way out. should probably take her to the hospital?” he asked nervously. the person knelt next to you and you recognize him as the guy ashlyn’s talking to from a few pictures she’s shown you.

“wait, you’re—”

“(y/n)?!” the person from the passenger seat exclaimed as they approached you. your eyes widened as ashlyn kneels in front of you, putting her hand on your cheek.

“ashlyn? what the hell?”

“i was about to ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?” she asked, worry written on her face. she moved your hand to look at the mark on your forehead.

“cam forced me here, she came to meet...” you looked over at ricky. “came to meet him.”

ashlyn rolled her eyes, not looking away from your face. “of course she did.”

“wait, how do you guys know each other?” ricky asked. “and who’s cam?”

“(y/n)’s my cousin, camilla is her sister. huge fan of yours,” ashlyn explained. “i should get her to a hospital.”

“let me take her,” ricky piped up. “i was the one who hit her.”

“ricky, you’re not even supposed to be out of the house right now. imagine what the press would say if you show up with.... a girl you don’t know at a hospital. you’d never get the role,” big red said firmly. ashlyn gave him a similar look to what big red was giving.

“i know but... i should take her. it’s only fair, i hit her,” ricky said, and him and red stared at each other for a minute. “besides, she just said her sister’s here. someone needs to find her, it’d be easier to explain coming from her cousin than me.”

“she would probably have a heart attack if it came from you,” ashlyn agreed. red sighed.

“fine. but just be careful, and stay out of the light. lurk in the shadows, or whatever. i’ll see you at your house in two hours.”

“okay.” ricky said. ashlyn stood up and helped you up.

“ricky, if you do anything to her, i will kill you. be careful. (y/n),” she turned to you. “i’ll try to distract cam and i’ll meet you at grandmas. text me what the doctor says.”

you hugged her quickly. “okay, i will.”

ashlyn gave one more stern look to ricky who raised his hands in defense before walking away with big red. ricky grabbed your bag off the ground and offered an arm for you to lean on to help bring you to the car. you shook your head, telling him you were fine and climbed into the passengers seat of his fancy car. he looked around before getting into the car quickly and putting on sunglasses.

“are you like on the run from the cops or something?” you asked after a minute of silence. he lookedcat you quickly, eyebrows knit.

“what do you mean?”

“well, you were coming out of a club through an alleyway, your friend was pulling the car into the alley and you’re acting super paranoid. should i be worried?”

he laughed. “no. running from the press, more like. i’m not supposed to be out this weekend. i’m.... up for a lead in a new tv show and any press this weekend, good or bad, could ruin it.”

“then why are you out? you could have easily avoided this whole situation by staying home,” you said pointedly. he sighed.

“i promised nini i’d sing at her party. i didn’t want to let her down. and i didn’t think someone would be walking down the alleyway at close to midnight anyways.”

you scoffed. “yeah well, i was there because of you anyways. your fault all around.”

he looked over at you with the same confused expression as before. “you were there because of me?”

“not like that. don’t get your hopes up,” you said. “my sister is obsessed with you, remember? she told me to wait in the car while she went to find you. it had been a while and the main entrance was packed. i needed to find a way in.”

“so... more your sisters fault, huh.”

“yeah. i guess so,” ricky grinned at you. you gave him a small, unamused smile back and turned to look out the window.

once you made it to the hospital, a doctor came to greet you almost immediately, as there were few people there. the doctor closed the curtain around you as he did the examination and ricky sat on the other side of it. you ended up getting a few stitches but he confirmed that you didn’t have any serious damage. the only thing he suggested was to keep an ice pack on it.

“so she’s okay?” ricky asked, peeking in through the curtain. the doctor laughed.

“yeah, she’s fine. let me go grab the ice pack, i’ll be back,” he left you and ricky in awkward silence for a moment. but, it was broken by his phone ringing loudly. his eyes widened and he answered the phone quickly.

“mom? what’s up?”

you couldn’t hear what she was saying on the other end, but he seemed to tense up after every second she talked. you watched, raising your eyebrows.

“okay, alright. stall him. i’ll be there in...” he looked at the clock on the wall. “twenty minutes. okay. thank you!”

ricky ended the call and turned towards you, a sheepish grin on his face. “yeah... so we may have to take a quick pit stop before i take you home.”

you glared at him. “you’ve got to be kidding.”

he wasn’t kidding.

as soon as you pulled up to his house, you text ashlyn.

you; help ricky is kidnapping me he just brought me to his house

ashlyn; if i didn’t know ricky i would be really worried rn

you; HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM???

ashlyn; pretty well we’ve hung out a few times

you; oml

you; well he’s a kidnapper. and he made me get stitches

ashlyn; no way you needed stitches? what are you gonna tell your parents?

you; no clue!!!!! do i just casually tell them ricky bowen ran a door into my face???

ashlyn; fuck they probably wouldn’t take that well. i’ll figure it out and save ur ass. hang on.

you; you’re my favorite person in the entire world

ashlyn; i know

“you coming?” ricky asked from outside the car. you looked up from your phone, not even realizing that he had been waiting.

“oh, sorry.”

“no problem,” he mumbled. you get out of the car and he lead you into his house (past his six cars). it was huge. tall ceilings, brand new looking leather furniture, huge doors leading to the backyard, a spiral staircase. if you were being honest, it was pretty close to your dream house (or, one of your dream houses). you stared at it in disbelief.

“you, a seventeen year old, live here?”

ricky doesn’t look at you. he was staring into the yard, searching frantically. “yeah. been in the industry five years now, makes you a lot of money. i guess.”

“you guess?” he didn’t answer, instead suddenly pulled you out of the view of the backyard. he looked around, sees that it’s clear, and pulled you towards the stairs.

“keep your head down for a second,”

you put your head down and walk quickly next to him. “ricky, what the hell?”

“just... hang on.”

“why the hell are you pulling me?”

“shut up for a second.”

you stared at him, taken aback. “fine.”

once you got upstairs, he pulled you into a random room.

“here’s my guest room. make yourself comfortable i’ll... be right back,”

you folded your arms over your chest. “why the hell did you bring me here just to hide me?”

ricky looked at you with wide eyes. “no, no! i’m not trying to hide you, necessarily. i just... don’t think either of us want anyone to see you.”

“harsh, but fine. go, mingle or whatever. just be quick. i don’t want my parents to be more pissed than they probably already are,” he thanked you and ran out of the room quickly. you sighed and sat in a chair in the corner of the room, pulling out your phone.

ashlyn; talked to ur parents. told them that you’re with a friend of mine because you fell and he wanted to take care of you. they’re not... happy, necessarily. less pissed than before tho

ashlyn; u still alive over there?

you; yeah. ricky hid me in his guest bedroom so he could go mingle at some party i’m assuming his parents are throwing

ashlyn; OHH yeah his parents threw a party tonight, i don’t see why he needs to be there?

you; he told me on the way here that a producer of the show he’s trying to get a role in is here and he wasn’t supposed to leave home this weekend

you; idk or at least that’s what i think he said i didn’t rly pay attention

ashlyn; aren’t you just a kind ball of sunshine

as you were typing your response, you heard a guitar strumming from outside. looking up and realizing that the balcony door was open, you decided to go see what was going on. you looked down and saw ricky sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar. he started to sing— a song you didn’t recognize. you knew most of his music (in result from camilla blasting it around the house every chance possible) but this one sounded new.

you say you gotta think it over

i can't stop thinkin' of you

is he the guy you want to hold ya

i'll be here when you need me to

you listened, suddenly intrigued. this song was nice— gentle, almost. you actually kinda liked it. and he seemed at peace as he was singing in front of these people, he seemed genuinely happy.

make you feel beautiful in the morning

light you up when the rain won't stop pouring

'cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya

it kills me every time he's with you, so

ricky made eye contact with you and his expression almost softened when he saw you watching. he smiled gently at you.

he continued the song. he seemed to be in a trance, so focused on the song and perfecting it. as you listened to the lyrics of what was obviously a love song, you sighed. it was beautiful, but you didn’t think it was appropriate for you to just be standing here watching him, as if this was a big romantic gesture in a movie. before he finished singing, you turned away and left the guest room.

you made your way down to the garage, trying to avoid anyone who happened to be inside— for both yours and ricky’s sake. you slipped into the garage quickly and before you even took ten steps inside, ricky was behind you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, a happy expression still on his face from singing. your eyes widened at his expression but you shook the feeling off quickly.

“i want to go home,”

“alright. were you planning on walking?”

you rolled your eyes. “haha. no dumbass, i was going to wait for you in here. not walking to glendale.”

he grabbed a pair of car keys from the hooks. “hey, glendale’s not that far, you’d make it there alright.”

“yeah, a teenage girl walking the streets of california at random hours of the night by herself. definitely make it there alright.”

he hummed. “you did it earlier,” he winked at you and moved to open the passenger door of his blue car for you. you got into the car and he closed the door, going to the drivers side.

“what’s your grandmas address?”

you told him the address and he pulled out of the garage, checking to make sure no one was watching, pulled out of his driveway, and drove down the street.

“so, what are you in california for?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence.

“holidays. we haven’t spent christmas with my family in a while, and california with my grandma seemed like a somewhat neutral place for us and my aunt and uncle to come to.”

“and where are you from?”

“western new york.”

ricky whistles. “completely across the country. yikes. different time zone too, right?”

“yeah. and the jet lag is an ass, i’m exhausted.”

“oh i get that. when i go on tour... i do nothing but sleep, eat, and perform.”

“that is quite the life to live.”

“tell me about it,” although he obviously meant that as a joke, there was a lining of bitterness in his tone that you picked up on. you looked over at him, but he stared straight forward at the road.

“so,” he started again, obviously eager to change the subject. “ashlyn’s your cousin?”

“mhm, has been my whole life,” you joked and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “i had no idea you guys knew each other.”

“you didn’t know she was talking to big red?”

“i knew she was talking to a boy, she didn’t mention who he was, other than showing me a couple pictures. didn’t even tell me it was nini’s birthday party she was going to tonight.”

“oh. yeah, ashlyn’s the best. big red’s really happy with her.”

“and she seems happy with him. turn left here,” you pointed and he moved over into the turning lane. he turned onto your grandmas street and her house was the second on the right.

“thank you. for the ride,” you said awkwardly as you opened the door to his car.

“yeah, sure. thank you... for not getting too pissed at me for making you have to get stitches.”

you give him a small laugh and sit for a moment, feeling like you should say something else, but finally deciding to just leave. you said a small bye and he gave you a small wave and you rushed into the back door of your grandma’s house.

[just-another-ficwriter]

Holidate - Part One

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 3000ish

Warnings: Overbearing parents, alcohol

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super late posting this and I feel awful about it!! I just couldn’t decide how I wanted it to go and ended up rewriting it three times🤦🏻‍♀️

“No Mom.” Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, irritation seeping into her words. There’s already a dull ache drumming behind her temples and she hasn’t even made it home yet. “I’m not using this as an excuse because I’m running late.”

“Well I simply can’t just drop everything and come get you, I’ve got to stuff the Turkey and cut the vegetables and-“ She lets her Mother’s voice drowned out into background noise with a frustrated sigh on her end.

She hates Christmas, she thinks. Hates the decorations, the songs, the cheer. Every last bit. Nothing’s been the same since the truth came out about Hal and-

“Is Jug there?” She cuts her own thoughts short, desperate not to think of her Dad and all the things he’s done right now.

“Of course Forsyth is here!” Y/N can almost see Jug flinch at the correction and bites back a laugh. “But him and Betty have already opened a bottle of wine.”

“Can you just ask him for the number of his Dad’s garage please?” Another five minutes of Alice rambling on passes before Jughead’s voice appears on the other end with a joyful ‘Merry Christmas’ and a direct contact to someone who might be able to help.

She thanks him quickly, hanging up before she can even finish saying goodbye, so he doesn’t have a chance to hand the phone back. And as she leans against the car behind her, the same car that had given up on her just as she passed the town sign, she dials the number and hopes she’ll make it home in time for dinner.

Otherwise, she might never hear the end of it.

-

“Again, in English?” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words he’d just said sounding almost foreign in her head. 

 She doesn’t mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she can’t help it. She’s tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after she’d called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as he’d introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her. 

But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. “You aren’t getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.”

“Great!” It’s official. Her mom’s going to kill her and she’ll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. “Just great!”

“If it makes you feel better, this isn’t how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.” He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty. 

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.” She throws a false apology at him along with  a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately. 

“Apology accepted.” She’s scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. “Want me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?”

“Only on one condition.” She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. “We find a station that isn’t playing Christmas music.”

“Hey, it’s either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.” He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice. 

He can’t help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow. 

-

10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come.

She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.

Polly’s the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She can’t help but sink into the embrace, it’s always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesn’t even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.

“Juniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!” She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying they’ll catch up later before she’s chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.

She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and it’s fixtures like a well-oiled machine.

“Y/N/N you’re here!” Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.

“Finally!” It’s Alice’s turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to dinner?”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.

“Oh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.” Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Mother’s judgement and they hadn’t even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.

-

“You’ve definitely told them we aren’t officially together, right?” Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. “They know we’re just casual?”

“Sweet Pea would you stop?” She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.

He couldn’t help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josie’s family, a girl he’d only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, he’d jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.

Part of him had regretted it since.

If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with it’s perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.

Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.

Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like he’s been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.

If he had doubts before, he thinks, he’s almost certain he’s in over his head now.

-

Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.

Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights. 

The minute Betty gasps the word ‘yes’ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back. 

Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back. 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate your sister?” Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen. 

“Congrats Betts.” She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

And she is. Her sisters getting everything she’s dreamed of with Jug, of course she’s happy, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her. 

Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasn’t prepared to let her forget it anytime soon. 

-

Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring he’s suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t pull something on the way.

Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.

The mere idea of it makes Sweet Pea’s skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.

The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoy’s exchanging gifts. He’s too distracted, wondering if it’s still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until she’s shoved the present right under his nose.

“Merry Christmas my love.” She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Jose I… I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts?” All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and he’s sure he’s never felt embarrassment like it.

“But that was just a joke, right?” He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesn’t even give him the chance to reply. “What, so I’m good enough to sleep with but you can’t buy me a gift?”

He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.

Ten minutes later he’s out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

-

Christmas Day ends the way it started.

Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.

Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charles’ surprise date. She’d feel bad for him if she wasn’t already feeling relieved that her Mother’s attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.

“He seems nice.” Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? “What?”

“If I tell you something, you can’t tell the others.” A quick eager nod and she’s shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. “Kev’s just my Holidate.”

She blinks back in shock. “Holidate?”

“Just a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. “There’s no strings attached and I don’t have to spend events alone. I’m even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.”

“Thats...” Y/N breathes out, she’s a little envious she hadn’t thought of it herself. “What an idea.”

-

Y/N sinks into a booth at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.

She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but it’s exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down it’s only because they care, but sometimes she wished they’d just leave her alone.

Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didn’t order. It’s been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” There’s something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, it’s been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.

Pops doesn’t stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before he’s a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someone’s sliding in opposite her.

Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and he’s already stealing her food. “One fully functional car.”

“Finally!” She snatched them up, hiding them

in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. “Now I can get out of the hell hole.”

“Christmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.

“You could say that.” She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next won’t necessarily make sense and she’s a little embarrassed by it. “My sister got engaged.”

“To FPS son right?” He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“She’s my younger sister, and now, as I’m about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.” The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.

“Yeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.” He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. “I spent it with someone I’ve been dating for four weeks and her parents.”

She almost chokes on a curly fry. “You got serious that quick?”

“Of course not, and we both knew it.” She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she can’t quite fit ‘causal relationship’ and ‘family Christmas’ together so he does it for her. “Didn’t want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.”

“Aren’t you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?” She laughs when he rolls his eyes.

“Ended with her kicking me out before dinner.” She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. “And now I’m officially dateless for New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdale’s Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.” She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Toni and Cheryl?”

“T’s been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cheryl’s brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.” She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. “How’d you know them?”

“Guess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.” The mention of Toni’s bar lights up her face. “Plus Toni’s been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.”

“I think I know a way to solve our little problem.” A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesn’t know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. “Sweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?”

“Your holi-what?”

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[amanda-glassen]

could u please write 014. “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” for baby cabenson? thanks!

Being at her grandparents’ house made twelve-year-old Olivia feel as if she were living an entirely different life. Her mom’s culinary skills were incredibly limited, so unless Jamie was making dinner, they used Doordash on weekdays and went out for mother/daughter dinner dates on weekends, which were Olivia’s favorite.

...but at her grandparents’ house it was a different story. There were either family dinners in the formal dining room or at restaurants with items on the menu that Olivia couldn’t pronounce. And because there was no children’s menu, she was grateful that Alex was there to help her figure out what to order from the adult menu.

With the Benson family’s reservation in two hours, Alex and Olivia had some time to spare. Her hair was perfectly combed and she was wearing some aviator sunglasses and a button up shirt that Jamie had helped her pick out. Olivia wasn’t one for appearances, but as she glanced at herself in the mirror she felt confident and when Alex gave her a hug and told her how handsome she looked, her confidence level soared like never before.

“We have some time to spare before the reservation,” Alex pointed out. “Let’s take pictures so I can show off how my girlfriend looks. Serena posted some with her and Abbie and I know we can outdo them.”

“Hmm,” Olivia looked around. Serena and Abbie’s pictures were taken in the park and, as cute as they looked, Olivia wanted Alex to be able to show off something special. “Let’s take them in my grandpa’s car!”

Mr. Benson owned several vehicles for different occasions but his 1970 Dodge Challenger was his prized possession. A few days ago, she had seen a picture of her grandparents when they first started dating in the ‘70s. Her grandma was posed in front of that very same car and Olivia thought it would be fun to take the same type of picture with Alex.

“Olivia!” Alex giggled after Olivia had taken several photos of her. “This isn’t fair. I want pictures of you, too.”

“How about if we take one of me driving?”

“I don’t know, Olivia. I don’t think your grandpa would be okay with that. We could get in trouble.”

“Relax, Alex,” Olivia placed her hand on her girlfriend’s arm. “I’m not going to actually drive. I’m just going to sit in the car and act like I’m driving.”

Olivia hurried inside to get the keys from their usual place and she handed her phone to Alex as soon as she got back. “Look how cool these keys are. You have to actually put them in the ignition instead of pushing a button.”

But Alex was more focused on Olivia’s phone than the keys. “Am I your lock screen?”

Olivia tried to grab her phone, but Alex ran to the other side of the car. “Alex! You weren’t supposed to see that. Give it back!”

Alex stuck her tongue out at her. “Make me.”

Olivia chased her around the car until Alex was giggling too much to keep going. “Got you,” Olivia said as she trapped her in an embrace.

Alex quickly pressed her lips to Olivia’s without caring that Mr. Benson could walk in the garage at any moment. “Let’s take a kissing picture in the car.”

“Weren’t you the one worried about getting in trouble?”

“I don’t care anymore as long as I get to kiss you again.”

When it came to kissing, Olivia knew she was still an amateur, but when it came to taking a picture while kissing, Olivia was completely clueless. “Alex I－”

“We’ll take it with my phone,” Alex interrupted. “No offense, Olivia, but you don’t know how to get the angles right.”

For the sake of getting to kiss Alex even more, Olivia intentionally messed up the pictures and nearly twenty were taken before Alex found the one she wanted to post. “This one is way better than Abbie and Serena’s,” Alex said as she started to type a caption for the photo.

Her girlfriend looked beautiful in the passenger seat of the car and Olivia couldn’t help wondering what their lives would be like in four years when they’d actually be old enough to drive. “I’m gonna find some mood music.”

“Mood music?”

“For kissing,” Olivia blushed. Her grandpa’s classic Dodge Challenger was nothing like her mom’s Prius, so Olivia took a moment to assess the situation. She put the key in the ignition and turned it, immediately hearing the sound of the engine running in addition to a song playing from her grandpa’s favorite oldies station.

“Olivia, you started the car!” Alex said worriedly.

“It’s okay, I’ll just get the key out,” Olivia tried to reassure her, but the key was stuck and she couldn’t get it to turn no matter how much she tried. “Why isn’t this like my mom’s car where you can just push a button? What if I mess with these gears?”

“Olivia, no!” Alex shouted but it was too late. The car moved just a few inches in reverse before Alex reached over and put it in park again, but in those few seconds, the two of them screamed at the top of their lungs as their twelve year old lives flashed before their eyes.

“What’s going on out here?” Olivia heard her mom say from the entryway that connected the garage to the house.

She didn’t know whether to be scared of getting in trouble or grateful that an actual grown up was there to save the day. “Mom, help!”

“Ollie, Alex, get out of the car!” Her mom hurried over to the driver’s seat and turned off the car, making the whole thing seem effortlessly to Olivia.

“Thanks, Ms. Benson,” Alex managed to say once she was able to calm down. “You saved our lives.”

Olivia felt her mom glare at her and prepared for a lecture. “Olivia Margaret Benson, when I figure out how I’m going to ground you for this, you’ll wish I hadn’t saved your life.”

“Serena Michelle Benson!” Olivia heard her grandpa say from the entryway. “What did I tell you and your brother and sister about playing around in my car?”

Olivia couldn’t help but giggle when she realized there really was no age limit to your parents using your full name. “It was me, Grandpa!”

“Well, that’s okay then,” Mr. Benson responded. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

Serena shook her head. “Olliegator, you almost got me grounded.”

Olivia knew she was in for a long lecture after dinner, but that would have to wait. For now she was going to let Alex post their picture and think of how to embellish what happened when she told their friends. As far as Olivia was concerned, she was twelve years old and already driving.

[maybankiara]

Rafe having an unhinged attack and the reader helps calm his down and he's scared to show that sid of him to her (or him)

BREAK MY BABY 

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

summary: Rafe has been moody the whole day and you’ve had enough. Things get a little complicated when you have to go back to his place and walk in on something you shouldn’t have seen, and see the side to your boyfriend you didn’t know existed.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mild cursing, implied self-harm

requests are open

It comes without a warning.

  Topper is the first one to see the cracks that day, even before you come, and he warns you about Rafe’s odd mood. You arrive to the golf court a little late as you had to help out with cleaning up after the storm, and even though you expect Rafe to have an edge to him, it’s a different thing to see it.

  ‘Hey, guys.’

  Topper nods in your direction, as it’s his turn with the ball. Rafe is standing at his side and he turns around at the sound of your voice. He smiles, but it looks tight, and when he walks up to you and kisses you on the cheek, it’s too harsh.

  ‘Morning, babe.’

  You raise an eyebrow, but don’t question it. He doesn’t usually call you babe.

  ‘Good game?’

  ‘I wish. Top’s destroying me.’

  ‘Ah.’ You nudge him in the ribs, smiling. ‘Guess someone’s going to be a sore loser?’

  Rafe doesn’t look at you, or reply, and you see his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallows. A vein is bulging on his neck and you notice how stiff his shoulders are when he takes the swing, and misses. He’s cursing under his breath, but he swings again, and the ball rolls close to where Topper’s is.

  You don’t know much about golf, but you can tell that it wasn’t what he was hoping for.

  Topper gives you a look, just as Rafe slams the club into the ground.

  ‘Fuckin’ piece of shit.’

  ‘Hey,’ you say, approaching him. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile, kissing him on the cheek. ‘You just need to relax.’

  Rafe huffs. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Turn around.’

  He hesitates, frowning, but then does as you told him. You reach for his shoulders and start massaging them, using your thumbs to disperse the knots in the muscles. Rafe’s unusually stiff – he even flinches at your touch.

  ‘Stop it,’ he says, and you drop your hands. ‘It’s not working.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t if that’s your attitude.’

  ‘Really?’ Rafe turns to look at you, his jaw clenched. ‘It’s got to be my fault, right?’

  ‘What’s your problem, Rafe?’

  He snickers and walks away from you, following Topper towards the ball. You stand in the spot, arms crossed on your chest, trying to figure what the fuck just happened.

  Dozens of feet away from you, Rafe is taking his turn at golf and you hear him grunt again, harshly enough that Topper flinches. You begin walking towards them just as Topper’s ball hardly moves and Rafe leads his forward, leaving Topper and you behind.

  Your friend sighs, resting his arm against the club. ‘We had a run in with one of the Pogues,’ he explains. ‘It got a bit messy.’

  ‘Fuck,’ you sigh. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Bad. He also had a business meeting with his dad in the morning.’

  ‘Right.’

  Ahead, Rafe raises his arms at the two of you. You follow Topper’s lead, not letting your eyes leave your boyfriend.

  It’s not the first time a Pogue makes his way over to this side of the island and you know what he thinks about that. It’s a Kook thing and it’s a Pogue thing; it’s simple. Except Rafe sometimes takes it to a personal level and thinks of himself as the prince of the Kooks, and makes it his duty to show the stray Pogues where their place is.

  If Topper was right and he had a meeting with Ward before that, no wonder he’s like this. Still, that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate it.

  ‘What’s taking you two so long?’

  Topper ignores the question. Rafe walks over to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. When you push him away, he steps back as if burned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t,’ you warn. ‘Topper said you have a few minutes left. I’ll wait for you in the car.’

  Rafe opens his mouth, but then closes them, promptly, and rubs his nose. ‘Whatever.’

  When you turn around, Topper glances at you. You give him a nod – I’m okay. Whatever’s happening with Rafe will pass, as it always does. You’ve learned that sometimes you just need to give him a little time to cool down.

  The car is in the garage, hidden from the sun, and you spend your time scrolling through social media. It’s your turn to pick up Rafe as Topper was the one giving him a ride, and the bike is at the mechanic’s. Usually, when Rafe gets like this, you just leave, but that’s not an option now.

  Well, you could leave him to walk home in this heat.

  The thought makes you giggle – maybe it could teach him a lesson.

  The door opens and Rafe slings himself into the passenger seat. He doesn’t say anything as he slams the door shut, looking straight ahead.

  ‘If you keep acting like that, I’ll make you walk.’

  ‘I lost the game,’ he tells you.

  You start the car and drive out of the garage, feeling the wind in your hair. There’s music playing on the car radio. Your elbow is on the door and you’re leaning against your hand.

  When you glance at Rafe, he’s still as stiff as before. ‘It’s just a game, Rafe.’

  He throws his head back. ‘Just drive me home.’

  All you do is sigh – there’s no point in arguing.

  It takes you about five minutes to get stuck in a traffic jam, and you find yourself growing restless, too. Mostly because of the fact that Rafe’s leg wont stop jumping up and down and he’s biting his nails, but also because of the fact that the heat is burning into your scalp.

  Usually, his hand would slide up your thigh, and he’d pull you in for a kiss in situations like these. You’d use your time the best you could. This time, he stares into the distance, fingers enclosed into a fist, showing no signs of wanting to do anything with you.

  Right, you think.

  You decide you’ve had enough. When you drop him off at his place about fifteen minutes later, you don’t even stop the car engine. He exits the car and begins walking away from it, immediately.

  You honk, once. ‘Give me a shout when you’re out of your bitch phase.’

  He just walks into the house without saying anything.

  Good riddance, you think.

  You’re almost halfway to the other side of the island, choosing to go for a drive instead of just back to your house, when you reach into the backseat for a hat and realise his phone and wallet must’ve fallen out of his pocket.

  ‘Idiot.’

  The car takes a sharp turn and you’re driving back, almost against your will. If Ward or Rose are home, you’ll just give the things to them. Sometimes you wonder if this is how you act when you’re on your period, but you know you’re better at controlling yourself than Rafe is.

  You ring the bell, but nobody answers. It’s still early in the afternoon and you assume most of them are probably out of the house, anyway.

  With a sigh, you take your keys out of your pocket. The house is quiet when you enter and your plan is to just leave the things on one of the counters in the main hallway. In and out, and forget about it.

  You do that, at first, but then you hear Rafe’s voice coming from upstairs. It’s loud, as if he’s yelling, as if he’s arguing with someone.

  He might’ve been an ass to you today, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’d go through fire for him. This is exactly why you walk up the stairs, towards Rafe’s room. If he’s arguing with someone from his family, you’ll let just slip out, as if you weren’t here in the first place. If it’s someone else, you’ll help out.

  You’re not a fool; you know there’s people who could want things from Rafe.

  Your feet are quiet against the carpeted upstairs hallway. Your steps are careful, increasingly so as his voice gets louder. It’s muffled, coming through a closed door, and he sounds choked up.

  The muscles in your back tense. You’re as stiff as he was earlier. If this is someone trying to choke him— Your fingers ball into fists and you’re ready to throw hands.

  Right in front of his door, you stop.

  ‘You’re a fucking asshole,’ you hear Rafe say. His voice is cracking, as if he’s crying. ‘Is this want you want to do with your life? Beating people up? You’re a shitty fucking person. You can’t keep going on—’

  There’s a crash, as if something has been slammed into the wall, and you hear Rafe yelp.

  You close your eyes, take a deep breath, fists ready at your sides, and barge into the room, ready to stand by Rafe’s side and fight whoever’s got their hands on him.

  Except—

  Except Rafe’s alone.

  Your hands fall to your sides and you straighten your back, looking around, but there’s no one. You could’ve sworn—

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rafe asks. His voice is harsh and rough from shouting.

  The Kook prince is on the floor, propping himself up on his elbows. The nightstand next to him has an indent in it; some things are scattered around the room. It looks as if there was a break in.

  Rafe repeats his question, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes are bloodshot and cheeks bright red, lips big and puffy. He’s breathing heavily, and his skin is shiny with a sheer layer of sweat.

  ‘I—’ you begin, but words evade you. A cold flash runs through you. ‘I thought someone was hurting you.’

  ‘Not what happened,’ Rafe says, finally getting up. His hair is a mess, too, and the more you look at him, the more you realise there is something awfully wrong with the scene. ‘Get out, Y/N. You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Rafe, what the fuck is going on?’

  He looks around, bewildered. ‘You’ve got to leave.’

  ‘Rafe—’

  ‘I said’—his eyes meet yours and they’re dangerous—‘leave.’

  You stand your ground. ‘No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.’

  Rafe walks over to you until he’s inches from your face and you feel his breath on yours; his chest is rising and falling too fast, and he closes the door behind you, and the heat radiating off his body is too hot even for this weather.

  Something’s wrong, but this is your boyfriend, this is Rafe, and you’re not leaving until you are told what’s going on.

  ‘What’d you think happened, huh?’ He steps closer to you until your bodies are pressed together. You try to stay in place but he pushes against you, and you step back. ‘You think there was someone trying to kill me?’

  ‘Choking you,’ you say. You raise your chin, facing him. ‘Throwing you around.’

  Rafe grins. There’s blood in his mouth, you realise. ‘That’s just me. Isn’t that what you like to see? Is this what you came here for?’

  Your fingers touch his cheek and he flinches; there’s a bruise forming. ‘Who did this to you?’

  ‘Stop.’

  ‘Rafe, who did this to you? Was it that Pogue?’

  ‘Stop.’ He takes a step away from you and pushes his hands off of him. He spits blood on the laminated floor, shaking his head. ‘Leave. I don’t want you to see me like this.’

  ‘I’m not leaving.’

  ‘It’s for your own sake.’

  ‘You can’t tell me—’

  ‘I’m going to fuck up your life!’ he screams. His hands are in his hair, tugging at it, and he kicks the nightstand – the same sound you heard before. ‘Can’t you see? I’m out of control, Y/N, and I keep losing it! Is this what you want? Is this what you came here for?’

  You flinch at his voice but you step closer, despite your instincts telling you to run away. This is Rafe, you tell yourself. Even if he doesn’t look like himself.

  ‘You’re not going to hurt me,’ you tell him. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t.’

  ‘Rafe—’

  ‘Don’t you see it? Even my dad sees it. I’m a fuck up. I make everyone around me feel like shit.’

  You step even closer, until you’re a breath apart, and you shake your head at him. ‘We all have bad days, Rafe.’

  He lowers his head. ‘Mine are worse than other people’s,’ he mumbles.

  ‘You can’t let them,’ you tell him, quietly. ‘Stop letting your moods influence who you are. You’re not a bad person just because you have a shitty day.’

  When he raises his eyes to meet yours, they are filled with tears, and he lets out a shaky breath. ‘I can’t control myself. You need to stay away from me.’

  ‘I need to stay with you until you’re better.’ You place a hand on his cheek and rub it with your thumb, mindful of the bruise. You feel how hot he is underneath your fingertips. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to let you go through it alone, okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  You sigh. ‘Because I love you, you idiot.’

  His eyes drop. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘If you keep talking shit about yourself, how are you going to think you’re anything else? Rafe, you don’t have to be alone. You’re not going to ruin my life. You’re making it better, every single day.’

  Finally, his hands are at your waist, and he tilts his head forward until your foreheads are touching.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

  ‘Happens.’ You wrap your hands around him, feeling his breathing grow steadier, feeling him relax into your touch. ‘You just breathe and we’ll get through it, okay?’

  He nods. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Let’s take this one day at a time,’ you say, holding him. ‘Today, you stop saying bullshit about yourself, alright?’

  ‘Yeah.

  ‘Good.’ You let out a shaky breath and laugh, a little, breathing for the first time since you entered. You feel him close to you and you realise how stupid are the arguments you’ve had. ‘You better be fucking grateful I was ready to throw hands for you.’

  Your words make him laugh, too, and you feel your heart relax at the familiar sound. He kisses you softly, almost cautiously, and smiles into the kiss. ‘You better.’

  ‘Idiot,’ you call him, but then you kiss him back, and soon enough, things are better again.

[n0wornever]

I Miss You - Julie x Fem!Reader

Julie x fem reader where reader is most definitely a giant f girl- she does weed and crap but she’s like hopelessly in love with julie who wants nothing to do with her.....”

Disclaimer: Not going to lie, I struggled with this one. Substance abuse is a hard topic to write without making the relationship unhealthy (I know weed isn’t that bad, but you know what I mean), so I kind of put a spin on this request.  I hope you still like it :) 

Julie Molina knew one thing: You can’t force anyone to change. 

That’s why she merely sat in the background as she watched her ex-girlfriend make a fool of herself in the middle of this party. 

Y/N and Julie had been friends since elementary school, and dated for a year up til last January. It was that winter that the older girl started hanging out with a less than savory crowd who convinced her to take up habits that Julie just couldn’t approve of. The third time the girl had shown up to her house, in front of her family, reeking like whisky, Julie told her to leave and that she didn’t want to see her again.

The girl took it to heart, and Julie hadn’t heard from her since. However, she had seen the girl spiral from afar. Every party they were both at, Y/N was destined to go home so drunk after flirting with some girl all night in the corner of the room. She normally ended the night blacked out or so high that she could barely formulate a sentence. Although it hurt to watch someone she used to love fall flat on her face, Julie knew it wasn’t worth the risk of taking her problems on, atop of her own when the girl clearly didn't want to stop herself. 

Y/N grabbed the waist of the girl next to her, and Julie watched as the girl who was clearly off-balance to begin with, tried to lean into the other’s ear with a smirk on her face. The two girls went toppling down as Y/N could barely stand. Julie sighed, setting her drink on the table and rushing toward the scene.

Michael, a guy from her 4th period chemistry class, helped the other girl up, pushing Y/N to the side in the process. Julie gave him a pointed glare as she reached for her former girlfriend’s wrist. 

“Come on, Y/N, it’s time to go home.” 

The girl looked up at her with drooping eyelids, swaying softly side to side. Another boy assisted Julie in getting the girl to stand up right, wrapping her arm around his neck. The boy helped usher Y/N to Julie’s passenger side seat. Julie thanked the boy and he waved as he ran back toward the house. 

As she got into the car, she took a look at her passenger. Y/N was knocked out cold, leaning against the frosted window. Julie bit down on her lip as she watched her cheek slide down the glass. The younger girl removed her jacket, leaning over toward the other seat. She lifted Y/N’s head for a moment to place the soft fleece between her and the bitter cold material. 

She put the car in drive and then pushed quickly down the street. As she approached Y/N’s house, she felt her heart rate pick up as she searched up and down the driveway. She saw that both parents cars were gone, a stroke of luck she’d begged for silently on their drive there. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door to the frigid cold. She rubbed her hands together for warmth as she walked over to the other side carefully, watching for patches of ice.

She softly knocked on the window to jar the girl’s eyes opened. Y/N lifted her head off the window, staring over at Julie with puffy eyes. Julie pursed her lips as she opened the door. Y/N stared at the girl as her breath came out in a cloud of frozen air. 

“Y/N, come on, let’s go.” 

The girl moved her head enough to slightly nod, and took Julie’s hand. It took a moment, but she was able to stabilize herself on the slippery ground as the two walked over to the front door. Julie knew the girl wasn’t coherent enough to find her keys, so the girl reached across, placing her hand in Y/N’s front pocket. 

“Getting a little fresh there, Molina,” She slurred, Julie feeling her hot breath on her neck. 

Julie found the keys, and pulled them out of the jean pocket. When she met the girl’s gaze again, she rolled her eyes at her. 

“You wish, Y/N.” 

Y/N chuckled, leaning onto Julie’s side as she opened the door. They both stepped inside the warmth awaiting inside the front door, and Julie set the keys on the ring above the shoe rack. She shifted Y/N’s grip on her neck and moved toward the stairs. 

The two waddled back and forth up the first flight before Julie stopped to rest. She took a few deep breaths before pushing on and making it through the last seven stairs to get to Y/N’s top-level room. She grabbed the knob and threw the wooden frame open. She moved quickly to get the girl to the bed and set her down carefully on it. 

Julie met her barely open eyes for a moment before leaning down to her legs. She unbuckled the huge black boots the girl wore and threw them to the side. She stood back up and stared down at the girl who was practically sleeping in front of her.

“Y/N, you’re ready for bed,” She tapped on the girl’s thigh to get her attention. “Crawl up into the covers.” 

The girl grunted, moving on her knees toward the headboard. Julie monitored her movements as she found the blankets and curled underneath them. Julie gave the room a once over before waving at Y/N, who was already snoring. She giggled to herself for a moment before turning toward the door. 

The next morning, Julie awoke to a knock on her window. She rubbed her eyes, pushing off her plushy red comforter to crawl off of her mattress. She made her way over to the window and stopped just short of it, staring at the bushy hair and tired eyes of the girl on the other end. She rubbed her eyes again, blinking twice to make sure her vision wasn’t tricking her.

“Y/N,” She whispered to herself, leaning forward to unlatch the window.

As soon as the open air hit her room, the girl came tumbling in. Julie suppressed a laugh as the tall girl fell to the floor with a bang. Y/N stood up quickly, dusting herself off and giving Julie a sheepish look.

“She’s never been graceful,” Julie said, as she crossed her arms at her chest. 

Y/N regained her balance and stood in front of Julie. She rolled her eyes at her smirk and leaned back to shut the window. As she girls met eyes again, the older one rubbed the back of her neck nervously. 

“I just...I wanted to stop by and apologize for last night.”

Julie rose an eyebrow in surprise, “Do you even know what happened last night?” 

“Ruben told me you brought me home, and-” She sighed before saying the last part. “There were videos of....my actions last night all over Snapchat.”

She clasped her hands together, staring at the ground for a moment. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that....again.” 

“It’s fine we’re not even-” 

“Friends, dating, whatever anymore, I know.” 

Julie bit back her next statement as she watched the girl’s nervous gaze meet hers again.

“I still want to apologize.” 

Julie rubbed her forehead in frustration, shaking her head at the girl.  

“I just, for one night I wish you could have fun without getting drunk or something and numbing out the whole night,” Y/N met her eyes and hers widened. “I just... I miss you Y/N, but seeing you like that, I...I can’t even think about even being your friend again.” 

“I know,” the girl said softly, fidgeting with her hands at her waist. “I miss you too. I...I wish I knew why I did the things I do too. My mom was right, you were the best influence on me.” 

“Shirly knows a thing or two,” Julie let a soft smile grace her lips as she watched the other girl’s nervous movements.

“She knew I didn’t deserve you.” 

A silence hung in the air as Julie’s eyes drifted over toward the corner of the room. Their breakup had been dramatic and brutal. There had been yelling and crying for over an hour. 

“You’re trying to control me,” Y/N hissed, pulling away from Julie’s grip.

“I’m trying to stop you from consistently poisoning yourself,” Julie bit back, fists balling at her sides. 

“You sound 85 years old, Jules. I’m just drinking with friends.”

“Every night? Y/N, no 17 year old should black out every Tuesday night for a month. It’s not healthy. You’re being stupidly irresponsible and I refuse to pick up the pieces again.”  

Y/N stared at her as Julie started to shake. Tears fell from the young girl’s eyes as she ran over to her bed and fell to the mattress in a curled ball. Y/N couldn’t stand looking at her so upset. She opened her mouth to say something, but retracted it last minute, walking out of the room. 

Even looking back at that moment sent shivers down Julie’s spine as she stood in front of the girl yet again. This time, Y/N was much calmer, sober and seemingly sincere. She took in her red eyes and her disheveled hair and tried not to walk up and run her fingers through it to fix it for her. Instead, she held her hands at her sides and waited for what the girl would say next.

“Julie, I know there’s nothing that I can say to make this better,” Y/N rubbed her hand against her cheek as she cocked her jaw. “But I want you to be proud of me again.” 

Those words shot through her system in a millasecond. She felt her heart physically pinch in her chest as she tried to take a breath out. She finally found the strength to shake her head.

“You should do this for you first, Y/N. Take care of yourself for you.” She took a step toward the girl, holding her hand out to her. Y/N hesitated, but grabbed it and intertwined their fingers. “It’s clear that you want out of this, or you wouldn’t be here telling me that.” 

Julie squeezed her palm, smiling up at her with wide eyes. 

“You deserve that, I promise.” 

Y/N let a small smile roll across her lips. “My biggest cheerleader, even when she hates my guts.” She brought Julie’s hand up to her lips and kissed the top of it quickly. 

“Thanks Jules.”

The girl let go of her hand and moved back toward the window. She unlatched the lock and pulled the glass open. As she stepped outside, she leaned back over and smiled at the girl who watched her leave. Julie’s curls fell to the left side as she tilted her head. A small grin plastered on her face as she gave Y/N a small wave. She nodded before disappearing out of sight, closing the window behind her. 

.

.

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[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 01

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, forced marriage

A/N: i’m so happy with the feedback i got for the last chapter, i’m glad you guys are excited about it!!! i hope you enjoy the first proper chapter. have fun xx

NEXT CHAPTER 

ingenue: generally a girl or a young woman who is endearingly innocent.

Y/N was the first one to be up, as per usual. Ever since both her and Gwen were kids she would be the first one to wake up, around sunrise, so she could climb up the attic and sit on the roof of the old country house to watch the sun light the night sky. Today, however, things were slightly different. She could see the staff of the how rush from side to side, preparing Gwen’s luggage so she could properly move into her future husband’s house and Y/N with her. 

Being a handmaid to the mob’s daughter was an archaic job, most of them had switched to bodyguards after the 50′s however the Forrest family did things the old way unlike other mob families. The leader of the family in particular, Michael Forrest, was one to follow tradition by a t, which was maybe why she had ended up growing up with Gwen instead of in an orphanage. Nevertheless, being a handmaid to Gwen was something that came naturally to her, specially when most of her job was being her portable consciousness. Y/N did not blame her for her reckless behaviour, specially when she had grew up in one of the most tight knitted mob families in all of New York. However, to Y/N, the day where Gwen finally had to move in with her fiancé always seemed ages away, something that probably wouldn’t happen, a day that would never arrive. Yet, here it was. 

She sighed, watching as the sun peaked from the horizon, the warmth slowly wrapping itself around her being, wondering if she would be able to do this once she was in her new home. God, her new home. She didn’t know what it looked like but from comments coming from Gwen it was far different from the shielded country house in the outskirts of New York. No, the Stan family lived a cosmopolitan hedonistic lifestyle in the Upper East side of New York where everything and everyone bowed in fear when they passed by. Yet, somehow, the family was still shrouded in mystery, specially the new head of the family, Gwen’s husband to be. She didn’t know what he looked like but rumours said he was pretty good shape, with a handsome face tainted by a scratch scar from his first kill. However, Gwen said he looked like a stereotypical rich boy. 

     - Y/N, are you in there? - her lips twirled into a smile as she heard a very familiar voice. She climbed down the stairs down to the attic, hugging the man who was standing there. - Gwen guessed you’d be here. 

    - I thought you were in California. - she smiled at Dan, Gwen’s older brother and apparent future head of the family, despite various arguments from him. He had graduated a few years ago and moving to California along with his girlfriend Beth. Y/N had always seen him as more of a older brother as he had been the one to teach her to ride a bike and the one who took her to prom when no one else did. - It’s so nice to see you. 

    - Yeah, dad called about Gwen moving in with Sebastian Stan, thought I had to say goodbye. 

    - As if Gwen will settle down. - Y/N sighed. - Besides, your father always said change was the way for an exciting life. 

    - If you don’t wanna go, I can speak with my father, Y/N. The Stans have pretty good security, you don’t need to be keeping an eye on Gwen. 

    - That’s nice of you, Dan, but I owe it to your father. - she walked from the attic and down the stairs onto the upper floor of the house. Dan followed her into her room where most of her necessary belongings were packed into a duffel bag and a flower patterned suitcase. - Besides, he can’t possibly be that bad. 

    - I know dad and Gwen constantly shield you from what they do, but trust me, it is not the best thing for you to go with her. The Stans are standoffish, murderous family who silence anyone and everyone who disobeys them. 

    - You’re being overdramatic, Daniel. People aren’t that evil. - she patted his face jokingly. 

    - Y/N? - Gwen peaked into her room. - The chauffeur is here. 

    - I gotta go. - she kissed his cheek whilst grabbing the handle of her suitcase and swinging her duffel bag around her back. 

Y/N followed Gwen down the hall and down the stairs, looking at the walls of the house she’d grown up in, a tinge of nostalgia hitting her as she walked outside the door. In front of the house was a limousine with blackened windows and a man dressed like an old-time driver, holding the passenger door open with a smile. This sight was different from Gwen’s regular chauffeur’s rolling his eyes whenever he saw the two girls coming. 

The heiress entered first, followed by Y/N whose luggage was politely taken away and put in the car’s boot. Inside there was a very expensive bottle of champagne which Gwen was quick to pop open and pour herself a glass as the car took off. Soon enough, the familiar environment of the sheltered home was loss and they were driving right in the Upper East Side, surrounded by designer branded shops, people carrying enough jewelry to pay for a down payment on a medium sized house. It was far different from the outskirts she was used to and Y/N wasn’t sure if she was gonna enjoy it, specially when she saw the much more modern building they were being driven to. 

Gwen, as per usual, was unfazed, almost as if she wasn’t about to be married in a few months to a man she clearly felt nothing for other than pure spite. They were let into the apartment complex, Y/N’s eyes going up to look at the futuristic design with no greenery to be seen in place. In front of the main apartment stood a valet dressed in a crisp suit straight out of a Paris runway, who tipped his cap as the car came to a halt. 

   - Miss Forrest, welcome. - the valet opened the door for her who slightly turned to step onto the perfectly straight and flaw free stone of the ground, removing her sunglasses to take a better look at the man. - I’m here to escort you to the penthouse.

   - A penthouse ... original. - the heiress offered the man a fake smile who opened the main door for her while Y/N stepped away from the car too, silently taking the chauffeur. - Come on, Y/N. 

Few people got to enter or even be close to Sebastian, even Gwen who had been promised to him had never been to his place and now that she was, she wasn’t impressed. The man looked to follow the stereotypical powerful man playbook, at least judging by her window based, modern approach when it came to his home. Y/N on the other way was somewhat enchanted by the level of luxury surrounding her. The lift itself was padded with dark velvet material, a slight mahogany smell constantly entering her senses. The ding signalled they had arrived and as the doors opened, she realised the level of luxury Mr. Stan lived in paled to that of Mr. Forrest. The walls were windows, giving the room a perfect view of the Upper East Side and natural lighting to the dark marble floors that shone the slightest whenever the light hit it just right. 

  - Miss Forrest, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to your new residence. - another man perfectly dressed in a suit, hands behind his back, took a slight bow. - I assume this is your handmaid. 

  - I’m Y/N. - she extended her arm, smile on her face to try and mask how nervous she was but the man kept his posture, not even acknowledging her hand. 

  - Mr. Stan is expecting you. - Y/N looked over to Gwen, expecting it to be directed towards the heiress but as the man placed his hand on the small of her back and started leading her away from Gwen, she started to panic. - Not to worry, miss, it’s standard procedure. 

  - Standard procedure? - they stopped walking once they reached a big dark brown wooded door with golden handles. He didn’t say anything else, instead the man knocked on the door before holding the handle, slightly twisting it and opening the door for a small inch. 

Y/N could fell her heart beat on her throat, not entirely sure what awaited her behind that door. She knew the tales, she knew the stories, Dan had told her several times what his family was capable of, what he was capable of. She remembered being a young girl and hearing about it, muffled voices from Gwen’s father’s office, death threats. Now she was about to see him for the first and it felt wrong, it felt like she would be stripping the myth away from the man. 

With her hand slightly trembling, she pushed the door open to its full capacity, her eyes meeting with a figure standing behind a wooden desk covered with various papers. However, it wasn’t the amount of paperwork in the sort of small desk that surprised her, it was the man behind it. Suddenly, all she could hear was a buzz in her ears and the nerves she had before were heightened.

  - M...Mr. Stan? - Y/N didn’t expect to stutter, however, that had been how her voice came out. He raised his head, stunned at the woman standing in front of him and had to fight the smile that was wanting to creep onto his face. 

The daylight allowed her to study his features better than the darkness of the club. Physically, he was extremely well built with a physic belonging to a stock hero character on the silver screen, with blue eyes and light skin tainted by a small scar on his left cheekbone. 

  - Take a seat, Miss ... - he stood up, pointing at one of the black velvet chairs facing his desk.

  - Y/N. - she replied, shyly walking over to the desk and sitting on the cold leather which greatly contrasted with her warm skin. He looked at her like a predator to a prey, examining every single detail about her complexion and demeanour. His gaze alone made her feel as if she were naked in front of him. However all he could think about was how endearingly harmless she looked in an oversized pirate styled white blouse tucked over a high waisted leather and velvet black skirt and some scratched yet somehow polished black ballerina shoes. It was a far cry from the oversized heels and dress she had been wearing the prior night. He thought it suited her better. - I’m so incredibly sorry for last night, Mr. Stan.

   - Sebastian. - he corrected her, putting down the paper work he had been looking at. - Am I correct to assume you’re Gwen’s handmaid?

   - Yes, sir. - Sebastian bit his lip, listening to the innocent title that escaped her mouth in the most normal of ways. - I do understand it’s a bit odd, but Mr. Forrest requested I continued to keep Gwen company and make sure she’s alright.

   - A bit of an outdated job but my fiancée said you were an non negotiable employee, therefore, I guess you’re part of my staff now. I hope it is not rude to discuss salary, I’m not entirely sure how much Mr. Forrest or Ms. Forrest pay you. 

  - Oh, I’m not paid. I don’t expect you to pay me either, Mr. S ... Sebastian. - she corrected herself mid sentence, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks as he gave her a puzzling look.

  - People who shot at Ms.Forrest will shoot you too, they’ll even shoot first. Do you mean to tell me you put your life on the line for free? - he cocked an eyebrow at her.

  - Why would people shoot me? - his lips were tightened as he wondered if she even knew what the mob did and how they dealt with enemies and issues. The Forrests themselves had few enemies, mostly surviving due to smart tactics and alliances with other small mobs, however, the Stans were mostly hated by every other mob in New York that coveted their unshaken, powerful grip over the Upper East Side and its residents. Once Gwen became officially his wife, any single person who hated him would hate her too and by that, would also hate Y/N. He couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at her naiveté.

  - Alright, Miss Y/N ... - he pushed a small stack of papers, stapled together with a shiny gold staple towards her. - Please sign.

  - What is it? - Y/N didn’t even touch it, merely taking a quick glance. If there was something Mr. Forrest had embedded into her and Gwen was to never, ever sign something without knowing what it was.

  - A contract. You’re my employee now, under my payroll, therefore I require you to sign a contract.

  - I’m not gonna sign a contract without reading it. - to be truthful, she was scared to deny him. He was statuesque and confident while she was cowering in her chair. - I would like some time to read it ... maybe ask a lawyer to look over it.

 - Are you negotiating with me, Miss Y/N? - he was intrigued, watching as she used the last shred of courage she had to nod her head yes. - I don’t negotiate, Miss Y/N, but since my fianceé is rather found of you ... I’ll give you a day. How does that sound?

  - Thank you, Sebastian.

  - You may go now. - she beamed almost like a Disney Princess, preparing herself to pick up her contract, her hand reaching the paper before his hand wrapped itself around her wrist, stopping her from taking her hand away. She squealed softly, not expecting the sudden grip on her wrist. - Tell Genevieve to come in, please.

   - Yes, sir.

He loosened the grip on her wrist thus allowing her to grab her contract and almost rush out of his office, leaving him to watch her leave and close the door behind her. She was positively dewy-eyed, ingenuous even, possibly the first woman he’d met within the mob who didn’t carry a knife under her skirt or spoke with the confidence of a stone queen. She was like a little daisy in the middle of blood soaked roses. However, he couldn’t help the route his mind took whenever she called him sir.

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Part 6: Split Ends

also on ao3

***

It all happened so fast. Like he blinked his eyes and he went from behind an ice cream counter to a hundred feet below ground level. Tied up to a chair in front of his coworker who he had barely even known. Who he was beginning to like. And despite being told after the fact that whole days had passed, his little vacation didn’t feel so long. Having been blacked out and drugged out of his mind for the most of it. It was quick to be over with. Could have almost have been excused as a fever dream.

The events following his escape went by fast too. Coming up to the main floor only to find out that they might have just been safer underground. Hearing news of the mind flayer being back just went in one ear out the other.

Finding out Billy was among the flayed. That stuck. But he hid the fear. Suppressed it. Because they didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Driving up to Cerebro felt quick. Considering he drove like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t that hard to believe.

Slamming into the side of the Camaro. He had his eyes closed for that one. But it went by fast. It had to. “It’s not Billy” he had chanted in his mind.

Everything was quickly paced. Moving from one thing to another swiftly. Nothing felt like it had dragged on.

Until he was up on that balcony.

And he watched as the mindflayer skewered his boyfriend through the chest. It was all slow motion. Felt like watching a movie that would never end. Watching as it went in and out. Tearing flesh and breaking bone. Collapsing to the floor with a loud thud that echoed throughout the mall. Lying there motionless. Bleeding out onto the disgusting mall tile. Dying. He was dying.

He’d later hear from Robin that when he was up on that balcony she had to hold him back from jumping over the ledge. Kicking and screaming. “I have to get to him!”

Everything following that moment felt like slow motion. Agonizing slow motion.

Driving to the hospital that held Billy. Max in the passenger seat. It was silent. And they must have hit every red light on the way.

The trip up the elevator to the floor he was on. Unbearably slow.

The line they stood in to speak to the front desk. Unbearably long.

The wait until they were ready for them to come back. It felt like forever.

And just as he was ready to pass through the glass doors into the hall of the ICU, there was a hand on his chest. A nurse of about five-foot-five looking to be in her mid-to-late forties had stopped him. “Family members only at this time.” She’d said. He wanted to yell at her. Say he’s the closest thing Billy has to family. But he kept his mouth shut. Bowed his head and ushered Max along, despite her protests.

“Go see your brother, Max. I’ll be okay.”

But he wouldn’t. Steve wouldn’t see Billy for the first time for over a month. The longest month of his life.

Months spent with Billy beginning to fade away in this never ending cycle of being alone. Waking up everyday to an empty bed. Not even being able to make a phone call just to hear his voice. Being without him in every way. Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile or just feeling his skin against his. He tried to hold on to all of those good memories. But they were slipping away.

It all went downhill when Max had called him from the ICU. It was two in the morning and she was there with Chief Hopper, despite knowing she shouldn’t be. Steve hid his anger around Hopper, trying his best not to hate him. Because he got special privileges and Steve didn’t. It was two in the morning and he was sitting in his living room watching a random movie, curled up in a blanket and hugging a pillow. He hadn’t been sleeping very well. The left side of his bed cold and vacant.

Max didn’t usually call this late. The ringing of the phone startled him and made his heart race. Because something must be wrong.

“Steve?” Max’s voice came over the line.

“Is something wrong?” He had to get straight to the point.

The pause felt like forever. His breath caught in his throat, hands trembling waiting for her to say something.

“They want to cut his hair.”

June 10th, 1985

“I think I want to grow out my hair.”

Billy says it to him that day while curled up in his bed. Steve’s fingers tenderly combing through his curly blonde locks. It’s soft. Void of any hairspray and all natural in its full curly glory. Smell of cheap drugstore shampoo. Slightly minty.

“Grow it out? It’s already long.” Steve says. He’s not wrong. Billy’s hair is already shoulder length and that’s with his naturally tight curls. Wet and brushed out it’s even longer. About to his collar bones.

“I know that. But I’d like for it to be longer. Is that okay?”

“Are you asking for my permission? Because you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“More hair to grab onto? Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

Billy laughs and leans into Steve.

Billy had been getting better about voicing his feelings about things. Finding it easier to settle into himself in the company of Steve. Gaining a trust that Steve wouldn’t look at him like others would have if they had seen a boy take pleasure in a feminine aesthetic. Painted nails and soft makeup and even sexy lingerie when the mood was just right. Things he’d never allow leave the walls of Steve’s house, but had been able to set free when he was inside.

“Can I ask what made you want to do this?”

“Max braided my hair last night, but it’s too short on top so it was all sticking out.” Steve couldn’t see the smile peek onto Billy’s face or the rosy tint on his cheeks. “But I liked it.”

Max and Dustin had come to learn about the two of them. About not only their relationship but about Billy. About the little things he does to feel beautiful. Billy wasn’t as open with the two of them as he was with Steve. But they were nice about it. Supportive like Steve was. Billy would say it was nice having someone else in on the secret. Even if it scared him shitless having even just Steve in the know.

“Good. I bet you look amazing with your hair braided.”

“Do you know how?” Billy seems timid in the way he asks. But not like he used to be. His voice is consistent in tone and there is an ounce of confidence there.

Steve’s in the middle of wrapping a curl around his finger until he reaches Billy’s scalp. “A little. I used to braid Carol’s when we were little. Not sure how good I am now.”

“Do you want to try?” Same voice as before. Hopeful tinge to it that makes Steve smile.

“Go get me a brush.”

- : -

Steve barely listens to the rest of the call. He’s already getting ready to leave for the hospital before he even hangs up the phone. Barely bothering to make himself presentable. Going out to his car wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of his father’s college sweatshirts.

Max had told him to come. So he was already out the door. Letting himself imagine what Billy might look like now. It’s been over a month so he surely looks a lot different from when he last saw him. Hopefully he looks much different considering the last time he saw him he was drenched in his own blood with a hole in his chest. Max had taken pictures of Billy at the hospital, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. He needed to actually be there the first time he saw Billy, or he might completely lose his mind. If he hasn’t already.

The hospital is a full forty minute drive outside of Hawkins. But it’s two in the morning and the roads are almost entirely empty. So he floors it. Driving fifteen over the whole trip. Releasing all of the anxiety and anticipation into the weight of his foot to increase his speed.

He’s driving like he’s heading there to say goodbye. Like he’s getting ready to say his last words to the dying man in the hospital bed. Tell anyone else he’s driving this recklessly over a potential haircut they’d think he’d be being dramatic. To put it mildly.

But it was more than just hair. Billy’s hair meant something more than just the evolutionary purpose of keeping your head warm.

Losing his hair would be like losing a limb. It was a part of him. So much of his identity contained within each strand of dirty blonde. The one thing he had control over. The one thing Neil never bothered to touch. Hair he had been growing out for the better part of five years having only recently begun trimming it, and even more recently begun growing it out again. The bulk of the hair on his head was the same exact hair that had been with him through all of it. Through every beating. Through every milestone. Always there sitting on his shoulders.

It was the thing that brought him comfort in knowing it was his. That it would always be there. It was like his coat of armor. It was like a shield. Something he always used to hide behind. Something that protected him. Something that made stepping out into the world just a little bit bearable.

But then with Steve he didn’t use it to hide behind. When he was with Steve he let it fall. He let it soften and lose the stiffness brought upon by too much hairspray. He let Steve comb his fingers through it. Touch the very thing that gave him a glimpse of comfort. Because Steve did too. Steve’s gentle and caring hands combing through tangles while they lay together in bed. The same hands braiding his hair while they sat in front of the TV. Billy on the floor with his back to the couch. Sitting in between Steve’s legs as he tries to incorporate the shorter strands at the front of his head into the cascade of woven hair. Slicking it down with water and hairspray only for the short strands to sprout up only after only a couple of minutes. Billy never did get his perfect braid.

They want to take it off. They want to take it all off. Even though it’s not necessary. They wanted to take away the one thing Billy had left after everything. After it was all taken away from him. Steve had already destroyed the Camaro. The only thing he’d be walking out of the mall with would be that fucking hair and thankfully his beating heart.

And he would have Steve. He would always have Steve.

If he still wanted him when he woke up.

Steve passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign at a whopping seventy miles per hour. Paying no mind to potential police surveying the road. Wasting no time at all.

June 20th, 1985

Billy’s wearing a scrunchie in his hair when he comes to Steve’s house after his shift. His hair is still drying from the pool water but is still so bouncy and shiny in the evening sunlight, and the little blue scrunchie in his hair makes him melt. The way the pink and orange hues of a perfect sunset warm the color of each strand. The ways his ears are fully exposed, his earring dangling and perfectly reflecting the light. The way the little strands at the front of his head fall into his eyes. The way it’s so messy yet so elegant at the same time. His heart soars. He looks beautiful.

Steve tells him that. With a kiss on the lips before he walks through the front door.

“Where’s the scrunchie from?” Steve asks.

“Stole it out of Heather’s locker.”

Steve gave Billy a fake shocked expression. “My boyfriend? A thief? It can’t be.”

Billy walks past Steve and into the house. “Relax, I swear there’s like fifty of them in there. She won’t even notice.” He takes a seat on the right side of the couch, like he always did.

Steve sits beside him, leaning his entire body up against Billy and burying his head into the crook of his neck. Billy still strongly smells of chlorine and he used to hate that smell until it became a signal that Billy was around. Suddenly it had become one of his favorite scents.

“Well it looks like we’re just going to have to get you some of your own doesn’t it?” Steve starts twirling his finger around one of the loose strands at the front of his face. “It looks real pretty.”

Pretty.

That was a newer word for them. Dropping the ‘boy’ at the end because it didn’t feel necessary anymore. Sometimes even made him feel a little like he was implying that boys couldn’t be pretty, needing to add the specification. Billy was becoming far more comfortable with himself and embracing it all. Beginning to believe that men could be pretty and that didn’t have to detract from anything.

So Steve called him pretty. He called him beautiful and gorgeous and stunning because he was. Because Billy deserved to hear it. And because it made him happy.

“Showers weren’t working at the pool. Need to wash the chlorine out. You gonna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

- : -

The trip through the hospital gives Steve flashbacks. Flashbacks to the night him and Max anxiously made the trek to the hospital wing Billy was in. Every moment he was currently experiencing felt like the memory. Sweaty palms gripping the handles in the elevator while the cage slowly moves up to the fifth floor. Shoulders hunched, leaning all his weight onto the bar as he curses each time the elevator stops. Foot tapping in anxiety as he waits and waits and waits until finally the doors slide open onto the fifth floor.

Steve ignores the lineup of people at the front desk and heads towards the glass door through which he can see Hopper. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fully prepared to bypass the stout man they had guarding the door.

Two hands come in contact flat against his chest as he gets within a foot of the door. So close to grabbing the handle. Steve leans all his weight against the man. Straight faced like a man on a mission.

“Let me through.”

Steve knows how he looks. Adorning comfortable clothes looking completely disheveled. Hair a mess, sweat forming on his brow, practically foaming at the mouth as he attempts to push his way past. His voice determined as he repeats himself.

“I can’t allow that sir. You do not have permission.”

The man just stands his ground. Hands still flat against Steve’s chest, applying very little pressure, but enough to prevent Steve from storming through.

“Let me through.” It’s louder this time. Enough to where he’s beginning to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting area. Staff and the rest all turning their heads towards the disarranged man on the verge of a public tantrum. He looks all kinds of mad, like he belongs in a padded room, restrained and straight-jacketed. He repeats himself over and over again until his voice starts to break. The man is not budging, and Steve doesn’t have the strength.

Then there’s a strong hand grabbing his bicep. Steve’s haze still recognizes it as belonging to a separate party.

“Let the kid in. He’s with me.” It’s Hopper’s distinct voice that breaks him from the daze. The man blocking his way moves to the left and removes his hands from his chest, nearly causing him to fall forward.

Hopper guides Steve through the glass doors. This is the furthest he’s made it. He can feel Billy’s presence just right around the corner. He’s not sure if that’s just because he can hear Max’s voice echoing through the halls as she argues loudly with the nurses on call.

“Good thing you’re here. Max has been guarding Billy for an hour. It’s just hair. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Steve just looks at Hopper, completely stone cold.

“It’s not just hair.”

He storms past him and into the room where Max is standing in front of Billy’s bed with her arms outstretched while two nurses try to reason with her. Steve stalls when he finally looks past Max and gets a glimpse of Billy.

He’s pale, but still tanner than Steve. He has more stubble than he would have liked but it’s still trimmed. The mask over his mouth and nose block his view slightly. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful.

And his hair is longer. A lot longer.

Splayed across the white pillow underneath him, his tight waves look to be at the very least an inch longer than the last time he’d seen him. Bangs falling into his face extending all the way down to the tip of his nose. It looks soft. Shiny like satin under the hospital fluorescent. He looks heavenly and angelic and that freaks Steve out.

Heavenly and angelic.

Asleep. Dead to the world. Dead.

Except he wasn’t dead. The crests and troughs of the heart monitor proving such to be true. But it felt too close. Like it was right around the corner and he had to be careful not to alert death to their location.

Steve walked past the shouting fourteen year old without a word and approached Billy’s bedside. Upon closer inspection he notices how Billy’s body has frailed. Previously cut muscles, now soft and smooth. Yet he didn’t look sickly. He was still looking more built than Steve, even. Steve moves a fallen hair from out of his eyes, like it was blocking his vision out of his closed lids. Gently tracing his finger across his hairline to behind his ear where he tucked back another strand. His skin was warm. Blood still coursing through his veins. He was definitely alive. And somehow Steve felt his presence. Knew deep down Billy was still in there.

He’s not paying attention to the screaming match taking place behind him. And they’re not paying attention to him. He’s just staring at Billy. Like he’s looking at the Mona Lisa. Behind six inches of bulletproof glass. He can’t get to him. He can’t reach him. But he’s there. He can see him. And god he’s as beautiful as ever.

It’s not the ear piercing screams from an enraged teenage girl or the annoyed combativeness from the two young nurses that separates his attention from Billy. It’s a strong hand on his shoulder that somehow both gently and forcefully pulls him back.

“Alright everyone that’s enough!” Hopper doesn’t shout but his deep and full voice carries an intensity that shuts everybody up. “One at a time, please?”

“You have no right to shave his entire head! You only have to shave off a small patch for the surgery, you said it yourself!” Max is fuming. The only word that sticks in Steve’s head is surgery. He doesn’t bother asking. Not sure if knowing would make it easier to swallow.

“We actually do have the right. His father already gave us consent to do so. It’s you who doesn’t have the right kid.” Steve has to physically restrain himself. Looking back at Billy as his fists clenched and his fingernails dug crescents into his palms at the mention of Neil.

Neil having the final say over the one thing he never touched. That was something Steve had promised Billy he would protect him from. Not the hair. Protect him from Neil taking anything more from him.

“Besides, a man’s hair shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

If Steve didn’t have the self control he did, there would surely be a nurse with a broken nose. Instead he turns back to Billy again. Looking at him. Trying to pull some answers from him.

I wish you could just tell me what to do.

“When does it need to be done by?” It’s the first thing Steve’s said since he entered the room.

“His surgery is scheduled for nine this morning. So you’ve got around five hours.”

Steve hasn’t turned towards the nurses. Hasn’t turned his head away from Billy.

“Then give us five hours.”

Steve’s expression when he finally turns back to look at the two nurses is mean. Attempting to get it across that he’s not asking.

“Five hours.” They say as they nod their heads and walk out. Annoyed expressions on their faces.

“Steve you can’t let them -“

“They won’t.” Steve takes a long look at Billy. Taking a deep breath as he glances towards the scissors that sit on the medical tray. “I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything, which is actually a good sign. An even better sign is when she finally removes herself from her guarded position at the foot of the bed to come join Steve.

He pulls down at one of the shorter strands at the front of Billy’s head. Pulled taut, the spiral reaches all the way just past his chin.

“You think it’s long enough for a braid?”

June 20th, 1985

After a very hot and heavy make out session against the shower walls, the two actually take a shower. Despite having done so many times before, showering together always feels so intimate. Standing with each other, naked and alone in a very vulnerable position,

just existing without jumping each other’s bones. It was nice. It was just more proof that what the two of them ran deep. Soaping up each other’s bodies. That was something so personal.

Steve was running his fingers through Billy’s soap covered hair. Billy’s back turned to Steve as he did it. Letting the water from the faucet rinse his front while he let Steve play with the individual strands of his hair.

Steve liked the way Billy’s hair looked when wet. Still maintaining a curl no matter how saturated in water it got. The way it darkened to a near dark brown and he could easily be mistaken for a brunette.

The shampoo smells like coconut. Stolen straight from his mothers bathroom. The fumes mixed with the steam of the hot water clearing his senses and making his breathing feel so easy.

Steve pulls at one of his curls until it’s completely straight. Careful not to pull too hard.

“It’s already getting longer, baby.”

Because his back is turned, Steve doesn’t see the wide smile appear onto Billy’s face. Because the water is falling into his face, Steve doesn’t see the tears of joy form into his eyes.

Yet Steve knows without seeing. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and pulls him in close. Presses kisses into the mole on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s gonna look so good.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. I’d say give it two more weeks and I can get these little suckers into a braid.”

- : -

Steve remembers saying that so vividly. Because exactly two weeks later would be the Fourth of July. The same day that Billy’s life would nearly be taken. It felt like some cruel joke.

Now Steve is sitting in a hospital bed with his comatose boyfriends sitting in between his legs as he brushes through his hair. Trying to hold it together in front of Max and Hopper.

Steve’s not entirely sure Hopper has been made aware of the true nature of his and Billy’s relationship. He figures he’s probably pieced it together by now. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t really care if he knows or not. He’s too focused on Billy. Focused on the man in between his legs. Focused on making him look as beautiful as he can while his hair is still on his head. Trying not to focus that it’s going to be his hands that will cut it off. Because it has to be his hands. Or else it’ll end up inadvertently being Neil’s hands.

And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Max hasn’t said much since he’d arrived. He can tell she feels guilty that Steve had been blocked from seeing Billy for so long. Especially considering how easy it was to get him past those doors. She’s just sitting in the chair at his bedside holding Billy’s hand. He is angry. But not at Max. He’s not really angry at anyone one particular person. He’s angry at the entire situation they’re in and he doesn’t know how to express that anger to Max without screaming. So he keeps his mouth shut and gently brushes the tangles out of Billy’s hair.

“I’m going to head downstairs for some food. Do you want me to bring anything up for you two?” Hopper says. He too has been mostly silent. Clearly pretty confused about the situation.

Max’s eyes lit up. “My bag. It’s in your car. Can you grab it?”

“Sure thing kiddo. You Steve?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Hopper tousled his and Max’s hair. “You got it. I’ll be back in a bit. Please for the love of God don’t yell at anymore nurses. They’re just doing their job.”

Hopper leaves the two of them and Steve finally begins braiding Billy’s hair. Combing his hair front to back before taking three small strands and began attempting a French braid.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

Max smiles. Looking down at Billy’s bare fingernails. “My Polaroid. Thought maybe he might like to have some pictures.”

“I think he’d like that.” Steve’s looking down at Billy’s hand in Max’s. “You have any nail polish in there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good, maybe we can paint them.” Steve’s being extremely focused on braiding. Making sure it’s clean and precise and making sure no strand is sticking out. And it’s going a lot better than usual. Only needing to slick down a couple stray pieces. All while carefully pressing kisses to the top of his head as he makes his way down the length of his hair. Down his neck until he’s reached the end where he finally ties it off with a hair tie off of Max’s wrist.

“How’s it look?” Steve asks.

“He looks pretty.”

Steve can’t help it anymore. Can’t hold back the stream of tears that have been bottled up and threatening to overflow since he got the call. The tears squeeze through tightly closed eyelids and roll down his cheeks as he just buries his face into Billy’s braided hair.

“He does. Doesn’t he?” Steve gently wraps his arms around Billy’s chest, careful around the dressing over his scar. Fully taking in for the first time that Billy is still here. For the past month Billy’s being alive was just simply something he was told. Never something he got to see. Now he does see it. Now he sees it and he feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Feels his heart beat against his chest. He’s right there and he was going to be okay.

He had to be okay. That was the only way Steve would be okay too.

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes. He knows why she says it. He doesn’t need clarification.

“It’s not your fault.”

Max gives Steve a half smile and uses her free hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I don’t want to cut his hair.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “But I know it has to be me.”

“I could do it.”

Steve shakes his head at her. “No. I made a promise. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Well I’ll be here with you if it helps.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for loving my brother.”

They sit there for a while in just complete silence save for the muffled chatter from outside the walls and the occasional beeping from one of the many machines Billy had been wired up to. Hopper only arrives around ten minutes later with two coffees in hand and a red Jansport on his shoulder. He hands Steve his cup and Max her backpack and takes a seat in the other chair that’s near the door.

“You two alright?” Hopper asks. He probably noticed Steve’s tear stained cheeks and the somber atmosphere of the room he walked into.

The two of them nod. Steve goes in to begin nursing the hot cup of coffee and Max begins to sift through her bag. Pulling out her camera case and two small glass bottles.

“I have red and orange.”

“Billy hates orange Max! You know this!” Steve laughs.

“I know that. Was just messing with you.” She tosses the bottle of red nail polish over to Steve. “You paint, I’ll take pictures.”

Max takes a few shots while Steve coats Billy’s nails in a shiny bright red varnish. Still in the same position of Billy sitting in between Steve’s legs with a pillow on his chest for Billy to lay back on. He brings a coated hand to his lips to gently blow dry. All the while Max is snapping candid photos of the two, passing each piece of film over to Hopper for him to put into his shirt pocket to allow it to develop.

“You guys want one of all three of you?” Hopper asks. He’s been mostly silent the whole time. Nursing his own coffee while he watched Max prance around the room with her camera.

“That would be great.” Max says, handing the camera over to Hopper before she makes her way over to the bedside. Leaning into the frame. Steve pulls Billy’s braid forward so that it’s now draped over his shoulder and visible. Intertwining his fingers with Billy’s now dry and red coated ones. He smiles as the flash temporarily blinds him.

They take as many more photos as they can until Max has run out of film. Hours pass and the hour hand is approaching eight o’clock. Meaning it’s about time.

About time to say goodbye.

The process begins slowly. Undoing the braid being the first step. Undoing the thing Billy really wanted to see for himself. The thing he’ll only get to experience in pictures. It hurt to pull the elastic from his hair and run his fingers through the perfectly woven strands.

The next part was securing it all back up into a ponytail at the top of his head. That way all Steve would have to do was make one single cut and be done with it. Allow the nurses to shave off the rest.

He knew it was going to be hard. But he didn’t anticipate it being this hard. Now holding an open pair of scissors above Billy’s head. All of his hair in between the blades. All he had to do was close his fingers together and it would begin. But he was stuck. Hands frozen still as he began to sob into Billy’s hair as Max and Hopper silently watched him. Max’s hand on his thigh and Hopper’s on his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop imagining Billy having to wake up like this. Wake up to the knowledge that his hair was gone at the hands of Steve. Wondering if maybe this would hurt him more than someone else doing it. He had to remember he made a promise. Even if it meant that Billy may wake up and hate him.

Steve’s fingers finally close the blades together and he can hear the sharp sound of cutting hair.

He made a promise.

September 19th, 1985: One Month Later

Billy’s awake.

Billy’s awake and Steve is there holding his hand as he does. It wasn’t planned, somehow fate just decided to work out in their favor.

Billy takes a while to come to. Nearly an hour before he truly recognizes who he is and where he is and who Steve is. Steve just sits there patiently while he does. Repeating over and over again that he’s in the hospital. That he’s okay. That “Steve’s here.”

Billy’s hair is short and curly now. A lighter blonde than before. It looks really good on him and he just hopes Billy is able to agree.

“Steve?” Is the first thing Billy says and Steve’s heart melts at the sound of Billy’s groggy voice.

“Yeah baby. It’s me. I’m right here.” Steve pulls Billy’s hand to his mouth and begins kissing his knuckles. Showing Billy his own painted fingernails. Maybe that will help serve as a comfort for him. “Welcome back.”

“How long?”

“Almost three months.”

Billy just nods. Then slowly moves a free hand up to scratch at his head and Steve’s heart stops. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart shatters when Billy’s hand makes contact and his half lidded eyes turn wide.

“My hair is gone.” He says before turning over to see Steve is crying.

“I’m sorry. I had to cut it. I'm so sorry.” Steve’s voice is broken and Billy takes a minute to finally register the situation. Spending about a minute pulling at the short curls in his hair before squeezing Steve’s hand with all of the strength he has. Which isn’t much.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. Pushing down his own sadness and grief over it to reassure Steve that he’s not mad at him. He couldn’t be mad at him. It hurt. It hurt to know that his hair had been taken from him. But he also knows Steve didn’t do it to hurt him. “It’s gonna grow back.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to Steve or to himself.

Steve sniffles and apologizes again. And again. And again.

“Steve I’m too weak to kiss you so you better get down here and kiss me or I’ll fucking scream.”

Steve does as he’s told. Nose full of snot and cheek coated in tears but he does it anyway. And Billy tastes like coming home. Everything about right now feels so unreal and he just has to savor the moment before he wakes up from whatever dream reality he must be trapped in.

But he doesn’t wake up from any dream because there is no dream. Billy’s alive. Billy’s awake. And Billy is kissing him.

Things were going to be okay. He was certain of that now.

And so was Billy when Steve finally showed him the little Polaroid of him in his perfect braid. Held by Steve. Looking beautiful with his long hair. The hair will grow back. With new memories, better memories, attached to each inch.

Things were going to be okay.

next part

[petite-rambles]

Pumpkin Picking

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: maybe some making out at the end??

A/N: back for more tooth rotting Kirishima boyfriend fluff and fun fall activities

Fall was now in full swing, once October came

The weather had stopped fluctuating between hot and cold, the chill finally settling in

Halloween was creeping closer and closer

But decorating for Halloween is never complete without pumpkins

And not the pumpkins from the grocery store

Only the pumpkins had picked from the field would do

Now Kirishima knows too

You sat in the driver’s seat this time, too eager to let Kirishima drive. He sat in the passenger’s seat gently holding your hand. His attention was mostly out the window looking at the leaves on the trees, the vibrant red and yellow colors catching his eyes. You squeezed his hand, pulling his attention from the window and back to you.

“Are we almost there? My phone fell.” You asked softly, pulling your hand away and putting it back on the wheel. This caused Kirishima to pout slightly before he reached down to grab your phone.

“Yeah, it says 5 minutes. You need to take your next right and then we’re there.” Kirishima responded as he placed your phone back in the cup holder.

You hummed contently, giving your hand back to Kirishima. He happily took it back and resumed looking out the window. This stretch of the drive was mostly free of trees, being occupied by far stretches of open land that had farms on them. The best places to get pumpkins were local farms where you could pick them yourselves. You could see the horses and cows dotting the pastures in the distance.

“Horses.” Kirishima mumbled softly, causing you to laugh. Kirishima smiled at you before looking back out the window.                            

You saw the turn coming up and put your blinker on. You two decided to go on a weekday so it didn’t look like the farm was too busy. You carefully parked the car and looked over at Kirishima, who was already looking at you.

“Are you ready to have the time of your life?” You asked happily, giving him a wide smile.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He hummed in response. He leaned over and gave you a quick kiss before getting out of the car. You followed his lead and ran over to his side, “How does this work anyway?”

You took his hand in your own and started guiding him towards the farm house, that seemed to have a market on the inside and outside of it, “Usually you pay for the pumpkins by weight.”

“I plan on getting the biggest pumpkin I can find.’ Kirishima said as he wiggled his eye brows at you.

“OO my boyfriend is soo manly.” You giggled as you pulled him a little closer to you. He smiled happily and flexed his arm, posing for you, “Wow I’m just the luckiest girl in the entire world.”

“No, (y/n), I’m the luckiest guy in the entire world.” Kirishima said softly, stopping the two of you. He gently cupped your face and leaned down to give you a soft kiss. You looked up at him with big eyes and a slight pout, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up.

“I think we can settle this and say we’re both lucky.” You responded before pulling him in for another quick kiss. Kirishima smiled at you before continuing to walk, pulling you along with your connected hands.

“What’s this tractor for?” Kirishima asked once you got behind the farm house. There were a few people gathered around the tractor before someone started helping them get into the trailer that was hooked behind it. There were hay bales on the floor for people to sit on.

“That’s how we get to the pumpkin patch, Kiri.” You hummed as you lead him over to the tractor, “It cycles around to drop people off in the patch and to bring people back to leave.”

Kirishima nodded slightly before helping you up into the back of the trailer. You offered your hand, which he gladly took. The two of you settled down on a hay bale and you looked at the people around you. There was a family with a two small kids and two other couples. Kirishima gently placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. You smiled at the gesture before taking his hand in your own as the tractor began to move.

It was a relatively slow ride out to the pumpkin patch. The route gave you a show of the other crops that the farm was growing, like the corn field that was currently being used for a corn maze. There weren’t many people in the field, which was still filled with an abundance of pumpkins. Usually once it gets close to Halloween, there aren’t many pumpkins left but this farm proved to be an exception.

The tractor gradually came to a stop and the driver came to the back to help people out. Since you and Kirishima were the closet to the back, you two were the first ones out. Kirishima made sure to help you off of the trailer. He interlaced your fingers before pulling you into the pumpkin patch.

“What’s your game plan?” Kirishima asked softly as he pulled you into him, giving your forehead a kiss.

“I just want a decently sized pumpkin that I can carve. I’ll know it when I see it.” You responded, nuzzling into his chest a little bit.

“Well you can’t see much now.” He teased as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“I’m not complaining.” You whispered into his chest, “I could stay here forever.”

Kirishima smiled widely and held you even tighter, if that was even possible. He rested his chin on top of your head as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You signed contently into his chest as the two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes. You were eventually interrupted by a person walking up to you two.

“Do you guys want someone to take your picture? You two are just so cute.” A woman said, causing you to pull away from Kirishima. You looked up at him before looking at the woman.

“That would actually be great.” You said, pulling your phone out of your pocket and handing it to her. You walked back over to Kirishima with pursed lips, looking around you. You grabbed two small pumpkins and handed one to Kirishima, “Here, Kiri, to pose with.”

He nodded his head as he took the pumpkin by its stem. You held yours the same way and nuzzled yourself into Kirishima’s side. You two posed for a couple pictures, Kirishima taking the opportunity to get one of him kissing you on the cheek. You thanked the lady as she handed your phone back, meanwhile Kirishima returned the small pumpkins back to the ground.

“Aw, these are so cute.” You cooed softly, holding out your phone to show your boyfriend.

“Oh my god, babe we’re so cute. You have to send me these.” Kirishima gushed with a wide smile.

You smiled to yourself as you sent him the photo, “Come on, let’s find some pumpkins.”

~~~~~

It took you longer to find your prized pumpkin than it did for Kirishima. It wasn’t that hard for him, it stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the field. He ran to get it while you wandered through the patch. He came waddling back over to you as you observed a pumpkin.

“Babe look; tell me this isn’t the biggest pumpkin you’ve ever seen.” Kirishima cheered as he presented his pumpkin. You turned from your pumpkin and gasped softly.

“That’s the biggest one I’ve seen in a pumpkin patch.” You giggled softly, “So manly, holding that pumpkin with ease.”

Kirishima smiled at your words as he gently placed the pumpkin on the ground beside him. You turned back to the pumpkin you were previously inspecting.

“I think this is the one.” You mumbled to yourself, gently picking the pumpkin off the vine. You held it up to your eye level and thoroughly inspected it. There was no rotting and it seemed to be the exact size and shape you were looking for, “Kiri, this is the one.”

“We’ll the tractor is heading back this way if we’re all good.” Kirishima said, reaching down and picking his massive pumpkin back up. You nodded in response and began to make your way towards the spot where the tractor had originally dropped you off. You looked behind you to see Kirishima waddling close behind you.

You got there just as the tractor came to a stop. There were a couple people already waiting there were their selections as the new comers made their way out of the trailer. Again, you an Kirishima were the last two to get into the trailer. You needed to help pull Kirishima’s monster pumpkin up before he could take his seat next to you.

“It’s a little heavier than I expected.” Kirishima huffed as he settled into your side. He wrapped an arm around you gently and pulled you close.

The ride back was as slow as the ride there. You cuddled yourself into Kirishima a little more, as the wind had picked up slightly. The chill in the air was just slightly more present causing you to shiver. The tractor came to a jerky stop and Kirishima hesitantly pulled away from you.

He jumped out first and you carefully rolled his pumpkin to the edge of the trailer. He grabbed it as you jumped out of the trailer with your own pumpkin. You guided Kirishima to the front of the farm house so the two of you could pay for your picks.

The two of you put your pumpkins on the scale and the attendant told you the price. You went to pay but Kirishima shooed you away, paying instead. You took the pumpkins back to your car and put them into the trunk. You climbed back into the driver’s seat and waited for Kirishima to get into the car with you.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You asked softly as you gently held Kirishima’s face in your hands. He leaned into your touch with a smile.

“Yeah it was. I just love doing anything with you. You could take me to a dump and I would still have the time of my life because you would be there.” Kirishima said as he began to lean closer.

“Aw Kiri stop, I love you.” You whispered softly, connecting your lips. Kirishima tried to move as close to you as he could, placing his hand on your upper thigh.

“I love you too.” He mumbled against your lips, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. You gasped softly into the kiss before pulling away. You could feel how hot your cheeks were getting. Kirishima looked at you with lidded eyes, keeping the distance between the two of you small.

“I think..” You trailed off as you dropped your hand from his face and grabbed the front of his shirt, “We should go home.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled in response before leaning in to kiss you again. You pulled him closer to you to close the distance between your lips. They moved effortlessly against each other, you could feel Kirishima’s hands begin to get more grabby than before. You used your grip on the front of his shirt to force him away from you. You could see a pink twinge dancing across his cheeks lightly.

“We have to go home. We have pumpkins to carve.” You hummed softly, readjusting yourself in your seat.

“And other stuff.” Kirishima retorted.

“Kirishima!”

“What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Help me find the keys.”