#but also 'really susan i expected more from you' !!!
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One of the other men laughed gently to himself. His dark hair was swept back, and he had a greying, well-manicured beard. The old man glared in his direction. Greybeard raised an eyebrow in response, still smirking, then winked at Nyssa, who couldn't help but smile back. The old man glared at her as well.
The figure closest to the edge of the platform murmured an incantation and raised his arms, the others mirroring the movement. Nyssa followed suit, and for the first time realised that she, too, was wearing a robe. With a growing sense of unease, she also saw that her hands were smaller. Her nails less manicured. Her arms... shorter.
“How interesting all this is.” Greybeard's voice sounded vaguely familiar, though Nyssa couldn't quite place it. The old man turned to admonish them once more as Greybeard spoke again. “Now, I wonder if — ah.”
The old man froze, as did the other figures, and even the snowflakes — hanging in the air as if they'd been captured in a painting. Only Nyssa and Greybeard remained unfrozen.
“It's quite simple once you understand the basic principles, isn't it?”
“I'm not sure,” she replied. “Who are these people? And where are we?”
“Well, from the look of it, I'd say we're on an observation deck at the edge of Arcadia, and these are some of the more, shall we say... free-thinking members of the Prydonian chapter. I always knew your grandfather was a bit of a rebel, but as for hanging around with this lot of hippies, I must say he's ever so slightly gone up in my estimation. Now then, if I can just get the hang of this time-shift —” Greybeard frowned in concentration.
“I still don't understand what's going on here,” Nyssa said haughtily. “Who are you?”
Greybeard looked directly into her eyes. “I am a friend of your grandfather,” he purred. His eyes were mesmerising. “And I'm sorry to say that he's gone missing. I'm rather keen to find out exactly where he's run off to.”
“Why?”
“Because we have... unfinished business.”
Nyssa wasn't sure she trusted this man. “What sort of unfinished business?” Then, pointing to the old man frozen like the snow in front of them, she said, “And isn't that my grandfather?”
“It was,” Greybeard nodded. “But all this was some time ago. Really, Susan, I expected more of you.”
“My name's not Susan!” Nyssa said. “And I'm not even sure that's my grandfather.”
“Then who are you?” Greybeard asked, apparently bemused. “And why are you — ? Oh. Oh, I see. Temporal balance cones interfering with the personality interfaces, are they? Fascinating. I wonder who you're seeing. No, you're definitely not Susan, are you? You're another player, aren't you? Yes, from later on in his time stream. Much later on, given the time it took for the interface to stabilise. Who are you, by the way? Another Prydonian? No, you don't look the type at all. I wonder if this delightful little device will give me a little insight into his future — or mine, even.”
— The Toy
#sorry i know i never shut up abt this but... well. how can i?#the master & susan thing is soooooo.#the avuncular vibe. him riling the doctor up & bringing susan in on it with the wink.#but also 'really susan i expected more from you' !!!#like. he Knows her!! he has Expectations of her!!!#of course not to mention him giving her the jewel in the first place.#'a friend of the family' indeed. five describing him that way is.#(also. 'a little insight into his future. or mine even.' makes me want to hurl. HE DOESN'T KNOW YET.)#(he still thinks his future and the doctor's future are one and the same. arghghghghgh.)#doctor x master#dw
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Heirs of Hogwarts | part 1
Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au
Fandom(s): Harry Potter
Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader
Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong?
Warning(s): Cheating boyfriend (Matt could never) / Matt is a cheeky shit
A/n: Kinda tried something new with the notes. Lmk if you like/dislike it
[Masterlist] [part 2] [part 3]
There is a certain expectation that comes with having a well-known surname. People expect you to act in a way that befits a Malfoy, Abbott, Prewett or any other name on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. And while there is no person left who carries the Gaunt name anymore, a Riddle is as good as a Gaunt in the eyes of the Pure-Blood community.
The one thing nobody realises that also carries on for the ones who are literally Wizarding World royalty. Like you. A Hufflepuff. No, not like the house. But your surname is literally Hufflepuff. Helga Hufflepuff is your great-grandmother many times over. And it sucks.
You're expected to be the embodiment of Hufflepuff House. Be kind, be ready to help everyone who asks, be patient, be humble, be just, be good at Herbology. You hate Herbology! The dirt under your nails. The smell of the classroom. The way magical plants are not really safe for children to be around. I mean... hello? Mandrakes? Yeah, didn't think so.
And it's not like you're not all those things. You are kind, you do help others when asked, you are humble, maybe not as patient as you should be, and just. Just not all the time.
Like right now. Right now you are not patient with Hannah and Susan for hogging the bathroom. You've slept like shit and you are hungry. So, you've decided to go to breakfast without them and have them join you later. You can always brush your teeth after breakfast
As you walk across the common room, you greet your Great-Grandmother in passing. "Morning, Meemaw."
"Good morning my little Badger!", she calls after you cheerfully, earning a couple snickers from your housemates. You choose to ignore them and make your trek up the stairs in silence, giving every student who greets you a polite smile.
You don't even know half the people who call out your name when you pass them. They don't even use your name. Just a variation of Hufflepuff. Huff. Puff. Badger. Queen Badger — you really hate that one. You nearly punched a guy for calling you the Top Notch Yellow One. But to be fair, you were in an abysmal mood that day.
By now you've got a pro at tuning out the stares when you walk into the Great Hall. It's mostly the first years who stare at you with wide eyes and mouths agape once they learn who you are.
You plop down at a free spot and start to plate up some food and pour in juice. Just as you're mid-sip, you feel someone loom over you.
"Good morning", gets whispered in your ear before your boyfriend takes a seat next to you.
You hum and slump against his shoulder. Malcolm pats your head as he knows that is the best attempt at getting a response from you before you've got a semblance of food in your stomach.
Malcolm Preece and you have been dating for almost a year now. He's a year above you and on the Quidditch team. Your friends don't really like him — and if you are completely honest with yourself neither do you. He's too possessive. He always needs to know where you are and with whom. It also drives you absolutely up the walls.
It has always been expected of you to be in a respectable relationship by the sixth year. Even non-Slytherin families have that kind of pressure. Surprising hmm? You needed your parents off your back and Malcolm was there. Do you feel bad for the guy? Yeah, of course. And it's not like you don't care about him but it's more an obligation; the kissing and the touches and the handholding.
"Guess what", you grumble, whipping your mouth. Malcolm hums as he butters his bread. "My first class of the day is Herbology."
Malcolm laughs and shakes his head. He places a kiss on your hair before saying, "I know. You've been whining about it all last evening. Is there absolutely nothing you can find to enjoy about the subject. Or why don't you ask Sprout if you can drop the course?"
You give him a look. "You know I can't do that. Everybody in my family graduated top of their class and I am not about to be the first one of my siblings to royally piss off my parents. Amelia came close when she almost dropped Meemaw's cup."
Your boyfriend laughs but doesn't say anything else. Because your hate for Herbology doesn't come from your general dislike of dirt. It comes from the first thing you see when you walk into the glasshouse.
You share many classes with other houses. You also share many classes with Slytherin. That also means you share many classes with Mattheo Riddle. He's a pompous prat who likes to make your days worse for absolutely no reason.
Normally you sit on the other side of the classroom and ignore him and his friends. He's not above pulling your hair or bumping against you in the hallways. It's petty. And you have no idea why or how it started in the first place.
Herbology is the only class you actually have to interact with Mattheo. For the others you usually sit with Hannah or Susan. But Professor Sprout wanted to hustle up the usual groups and pair random students with each other. That's how you got stuck with Mattheo.
"What is it, princess? Scared a little mud will ruin your manicure?", he says with a shit-eating grin as you put on gardening gloves. You shoot him a glare but continue to tend to you Fluxweed.
"Looks like your Fluxweed can use a little manicure." You give a pointed look at the sad sprig that used to be a plant and continue to do your own thing. "That reminds me, we have to finish our report on Fluxweed. Do you have any time this week? I mean, between your busy schedule of pestering first years and tripping up Neville Longbottom."
You hear a snicker behind you. Hannah holds up her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter and you wink at her while Mattheo sends her a scalding glare.
"Sure", sneers Mattheo, "if you have any room between tea parties and snogging that sad sack you call a boyfriend."
"I don't have-", you want to interject but you know it has no use. Only if Professor Sprout wouldn't be hoovering around you all the time you would have 'accidentally' stomped on his feet.
You turn your back towards him and walk towards the supply closet, searching for a pair of shears. But Professor Sprout keeps them on the top shelf. As you want to grab your wand, a hand suddenly tugs at the ribbon in your hair.
With a gasp, you whip around and you are met with Mattheo's chest, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He gives you a bored look before turning around and walking back towards his table.
You shake your head and turn around. When you want to Accio the shears to you, you see that they've been placed on the shelve at eye height. Huh.
Once your classes before lunch are finally over you walk out of the classroom with a smile as you spot Malcolm waiting for you. But your smile soon falters at the person standing next to him. Gladys Prescott stands way too close to your boyfriend. She's twirling a lock of hair with her finger as she laughs obnoxiously at one of Malcolm's jokes. They're great, but not that funny.
When you first started dating Malcolm you voiced your questions about his and Gladys' relationship. You were under the impression that they were dating because of how close they were. You and your friends were surprised when he asked you out on a Hogsmeade date.
The worst thing is that Malcolm swears nothing's going on between the two. That they're just friends. But the way he looks at her and treats her makes you glower. It's not that you're jealous. Just... you don't want to get berated by your parents for choosing the wrong partner.
"Ready?", you plaster on a wide smile, clutching your books in your hands.
Gladys and Malcolm look like they are snapped out of their little world before Malcolm registers that it's you and he returns your smile. "You don't mind if Gly joins us, do you?"
You turn to the girl, who gives you a fake ass big smile. "Of course not. The more the merrier! Now, tell me about your morning."
The two of them speak more to each other and don't bother to include you. Resting your chin on your hand, you look around the Great Hall. Susan and Hannah are doing their Prefect duties so they are unable to join you for lunch.
Tuning out Malcolm and Gladys, your eyes flicker to the other students who are enjoying their lunch. You suddenly make eye contact with Mattheo over at the Slytherin table. He raises his brows at you. You mimic his expression before continuing with your surveying. But when you look back he's still looking at you.
His expressionless eyes flicker towards your boyfriend and Gladys before back to you. He raises a single eyebrow at you, silently asking if you tolerate it.
You send him a pinched look back before zoning back into the conversation. Malcolm and Gladys are laughing loudly and Gladys has a hand clasped over his. The hold on your fork tightens and you swear you feel it bend in your hold.
You stand up abruptly. Gladys and Malcolm pull their hands away like they're burned and look up at you. "I'm... I have to ask Professor Slughorn something before class begins." You think up the excuse on the spot.
"Oh... Do you want me to walk you..?" Malcolm looks at you with big eyes.
But you shake your head. "No. I wouldn't want to pull you away from your fascinating conversation." You give Gladys a sickly sweet smile, which she doesn't return.
Instead of making a left once you leave the Great Hall, you keep on walking until you're at the edge of the forest. You survey if nobody's following you. With a deep breath, you crouch down and feel your bones and skin snap and pull.
One thing that nobody seems to know about Helga Hufflepuff is that she is a born Animagus. And she has given the ability to transform into a badger at will to all her descendants. The Ministry knows about it and every Hufflepuff descendant gets tested at age ten. By then most children are already used to the transformation.
And you love it. It helps you clear your head and release frustration. As of late you've been doing it a lot more.
Your little legs move easily over the forest floor towards your little burrow. You know, the Dark Forest isn't that scary when you're one of the animals. Mostly because you know which sides of the forest you need to dodge. Badgers are vicious but spiders are a paint in the butt.
The afternoon is spent frolicking in flower fields, munching on berries and nuts, and reinforcing the little stick bridges you made for your fellow badgers and woodland creatures over the many rivers that pass through the forest.
By the time you return to the castle, it's already dark and you're tired. You want to curl up in your bed and hear about Susan and Hannah's day.
But something stops you in your way when you pass a dorm. A whiney, feminine voice comes from Malcolm's room. Gladys. "For how long do you have to pretend to like that stuck-up brat?"
You inch closer to the door and peer between the crack. Malcolm and Gladys are on his bed, her between his legs and they're pecking each other's lips, naked. Your chest tightens at this display of intimacy Malcolm never wanted to show you. Too 'old-school'. Or so he claimed.
Malcolm hums. "I know, Pookie. But next year I'm graduated and I want a good job. If I manage to sit it out any longer Mr Hufflepuff might recommend me for a good position at the Ministry."
Anger bubbles from within you and you turn around, marching out of the common room. You ignore the calls of your name and keep on walking until you're outside and on one of the old defence walls of the school. Your thinking spot.
It doesn't hurt that he is cheating on you. You weren't blind. What hurts is that he is using you to get further in life. He's just like the others.
Your shoulders tense up at the sound of someone making them up the stairs and the smell of cigarettes. Great. You really need him to bother you right now.
Mattheo halts once he spots you sitting between the battlements, your feet dangling off the edge. He blows out a puff of smoke before sitting next to you. Out of politeness, he offers his cigarette. He doesn't expect you to accept it and take a drag.
"I didn't know you smoked", muses Mattheo as he watches you blow out the smoke mesmerised.
You glance at him while giving the cigarette back. "I don't."
The two of you stay silent, neither of you wanting or knowing what to talk about. Until it's Mattheo who breaks the silence. "What has the pretty Princess so stressed?"
"I'm not stressed." You opt to ignore the princess part for your sanity.
"Sure. And I can't talk to snakes. You're destroying your nailbeds", he points out and you look down. Your fingers are picking at the skin around your thumbnails. You've managed to make it bleed.
Sticking your thumb in your mouth to suck the blood away, you stare defiantly at the darkness that envelops the forbidden forest. "Malcolm's been cheating on me", you say after some contemplating, eyeing the Slytherin boy next to you.
Mattheo raises one brow unimpressed. "What?", he asks when you give him a look, "do I have to act surprised?" He dramatically fake gasps. "Oh, my Merlin! He did not!" He impersonates an American Valley Girl while covering his mouth with his hand.
You roll your eyes annoyed. Of course, you shouldn't have brought up the subject to Mattheo fucking Riddle. "Forget it if you're going to be a dick about it." You push yourself up and dust off your hands.
But Mattheo's hand around your wrist stops you and he leans back, his eyes somewhat apologetic. "No, don't go. I'm sorry. How did you find out?"
This time you raise your eyebrows. Mattheo Riddle never apologises. What in the...
Against your better judgment, you sit back, your hands folded in your lap. "I just came back and I heard him talk about it with Gladys. How he wants my dad to give him a good job when he graduates." You take a deep breath, the nicotine tickling your nose. "I had a hunch he was fooling around with her. But using me, that hurts, you know?"
He nods as you glance at him. Mattheo knows. He, just like you, is used to people only talking to or befriending him because they want something from him. They think getting in his good graces gets them somewhere. Absolutely not.
"You knew?"
You hum. Your fingers start to attack your nailbeds again as you think back to the many times you've had to bite your tongue. To keep face in front of the others at school. "I needed someone to keep my parents off my back. My parents expect all of us to have a steady partner by our sixth year. My siblings did it, but only the oldest actually had a girlfriend. The twins just told me to find someone to play the part."
A groan escapes you as you bury your hands in your face. "And now someone will rat to their parents about my break-up, who in turn tell my parents and then I'll get a stern letter about my future. This whole break-up is more an irritation than a heartache."
The Slytherin boy next to you is deadly silent. Why would you be so stupid to air your grievance to him? It's not like he cares. Standing up for real this time, you give him a curt nod. "Thank you for listening, Riddle. Best not to mention our meet-up with anyone, alright? Goodnight."
You make your way back towards your dorm and crash into your bed. Pressing your face against your pillow, you try your hardest to forget today.
But as suspected, sleep doesn't come easily. Or not at all. And you feel like a zombie walking towards breakfast, your friends giving you worried looks after you explained what happened last night — minus the Mattheo part.
"I swear if one more busybody comes up to you to say they're sorry", grumbles Hannah as she gives the students around you glares. She balls up her fists and punches the air in front of her. You and Susan chuckle while students around you look at her weirdly.
It's the worst when you enter the Great Hall. The general breakfast noise quiets as your peers start to whisper when you pass them. You keep your eyes focused on a far-off point until you are at your usual breakfast spot.
The three of you eat mostly in silence. Hannah and Susan try to engage you in a conversation but you just play with your food.
"Can we talk?"
You tense up and drop your fork. Slowly, you turn around and look up at Malcolm. He has a guilty look on his face and it angers you. "I don't know. Can we?" You cock your head condescendingly to the side.
You turn back around and start abusing the piece of toast on your plate. Malcolm lays a hand on your shoulder but it gets promptly ripped off by Hannah. "I strongly advise you to back off."
Malcolm scoffs, looking down at the girl who stands protective in front of you. "Or what? Can't I speak with my girlfriend?"
You slowly rise and turn around to face the prick. "Don't speak to her like that, you insufferable twat. You best believe my dad will make sure you won't get a job anywhere in the Ministry, not even as a wand polisher", you bare your teeth, your chest raising rapidly. The Great Hall has fallen silent, watching the exchange.
"You little bitch." Malcolm's jaw ticks and he balls a fist. But the voice of a teacher stops him.
"Mister Preece, I would strongly advise you to step away from Miss Hufflepuff if you don't want to lose your position on the Quidditch team." Professor McGonagall comes striding from the teacher's table, where they could have seen the interaction between the two of you clear as day.
Malcolm's eyes flicker from you towards the professor and back. "This isn't over", he grumbles before leaving the Great Hall.
"Thank you, Professor." You give the woman a small smile as you collect your schoolbag. She waves you away and you grab both Hannah and Susan's hands, dragging them out of the Great Hall, the stares the whole ordeal created starting to creep you out.
Hannah grumbles all the way towards Charms how's she going to 'beat his face in the next time he dares to look at you'. Susan and you share a look but you're glad you've got Hannah to look out for you.
It's again Hannah who sends glares around as the three of you take place at your usual spot — upper bench all the way at the end. That way the three of you can whisper among each other without bothering anyone.
The class goes as usual before a paper bird lands before you. You look surprised to the other side of the classroom. Mattheo Riddle is already looking at you and miming for you to unfold the bird.
You raise your brows at his note. He has such a chicken-scratch handwriting.
"What is it?", asks Susan in a whisper, leaning closer to you to read the note. A soft gasp escapes her and she looks over at Mattheo. Who's eyes are still trained on you, by the way. "Since when are you and Mattheo Riddle sending notes to each other?!"
"Since never!", you hiss, "what time are we done today?"
Hannah looks up from her book. "Three. Why?" She snatches the note out of Susan's hands and her eyes trail over the words. "He needs to fix his handwriting, my brother in Christ. Is 'Fluxweed report' some kind of secret code?"
You snort and swat her chest, earning a smug smile from the girl.
"I think it's rather romantic", says Susan, the hopeless romantic that she is.
A grimace forms on your face. "What is so romantic about finishing a Herbology essay?"
Susan sighs exorbitantly as she rolls her eyes. "You're officially single now! Free to go and explore and find someone who you really like! Mattheo obviously has seen his chance and took it!"
You and Hannah look at Susan as if she just swallowed a flobberworm. She gives the two of you an exasperated look. "What?! Isn't it like so romantic if the two descendants of Hogwarts founders end up dating? I bet ten galleons that he asks you out on a Hogsmeade date."
You huff out a breath. "Fine. But if he ends up humiliating me I'm going to enjoy those ten galleons with all my heart. Now, what do I write him back?"
"Oh! You should ask to meet at those tables at the back of the library where nobody really comes. That way you two could really cosy up."
You turn towards Hannah, feeling betrayed. "I thought you were with me on this?"
Hannah shrugs. "I'm always down for some drama. Besides, he has been staring at you and I always wondered when he would make his move."
"Since when has Mattheo Riddle been staring at me?", you ask genuinely shocked.
"Since like forever! He always manages to look away just in time. You were also too busy with him who we won't name. Bad joojoo."
You ignore Hannah's observation and pen an answer back.
You wait to send it towards him when Flitwick isn't looking before chucking the balled-up paper towards the other side of the classroom and hitting him in the face.
You clasp a hand over your mouth while you and your friends stifle your laugh. Mattheo unfolds the paper, his eyes following every letter you wrote before he shows a thumbs up.
"Dibs on being you guys' child's Godparent", whispers Susan with a grin and you elbow her in the ribs.
You try to bring your focus back to Flitwick, but you keep on glancing back at the curly-haired boy across the room. Has he some sort of plan to ask you so publicly to study? What is his motive? It can't only be studying, right?
Throughout the day you've grown quite nervous about meeting Mattheo. If it wasn't for your stupid friends and their stupid words you wouldn't have thought about this afternoon like any different from any other Herbology class.
For Merlin's sake! You just broke up with your boyfriend and your friends are already pushing you onto the next. You wanted to take it slow for a while and enjoy the rest of your year without the worry of having to please a guy!
You fix your hair and uniform behind a bookcase as you see Mattheo already sitting at the table. With a curt breath and nod to yourself, you walk up to the table and take place in front of him. "Hi. Sorry if you've been waiting for long." You send him a small smile as you grab your book and notebook out of your bag. "It takes more time than I imagined to get from Divignation to here."
Mattheo gives you a half-smile and waves away your apologies. "Don't worry. I just got here too actually. So... what needed to be in that essay again?"
The two of you work together surprisingly well. If Mattheo isn't throwing his snide remarks around anyway. You also don't feel the need to be as snappy as you usually are with him. It's actually... nice? For once.
As you're writing the last part of the essay, you feel his eyes on you. You look back up and raise your brows, silently asking what his deal is.
"I was thinking", he begins.
You let out a chuckle. "That's dangerous."
Ignoring your quip, he continues, "you need your parents off your back, right? And I imagine that you would like to smite Preece after that embarrassing stunt he pulled this morning."
You lean back with your eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't quite call it that. But continue."
Mattheo licks his bottom lips as he instead leans close to you, his voice softening. "Go out with me. Just a couple of dates so that you're seen with me. You know it will drive him nuts seeing you move on so quick."
You contemplate it for a moment or two. He is right. Malcolm always was a bit too paranoid for your taste when you talked with a boy.
He hums. "So you agree?"
"What do you out of it? This all is a bit too suspicious."
He laughs and he runs his tongue over his teeth. "You don't believe me that I'm just content with having a pretty girl by my side?" When you shake your head he grins. "Smart girl. Maybe by 'dating' you, it will pull Preece's attention away from Quidditch and they'll lose the cup."
"So I'm sabotaging my own house?", you muse, your eyes flickering between his own.
Something seems to falter inside Mattheo's eyes for a second before a teasing smile grows on his face. "Well, you can't have everything princess."
Huming, you fall back into your chair. "Sure. When and where will our first 'date' be?", you use air quotations when you say date.
"I've heard that Saturday is going to be a sunny day."
"Sure. Eleven okay? We could meet up in the Clocktower courtyard. That way a lot of people see us leave together."
And with that, quite casually, your totally not fake date with Mattheo Riddle is agreed.
Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you):
@mylosz0 @kermits-bitch
#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter scenarios#harry potter x reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle scenarios#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle x you#hogwarts#hogwarts scenarios#hogwarts x reader#hogwarts x y/n#hogwarts x you#mattheo#mattheo scenarios#mattheo x reader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#hufflepuff!reader
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You Left Me - You Miss Me - 4
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Hi, time for more, arguably making things better, but also arguably making things much worse.
----
There was a diner a block and a half from their apartment. Steve found it when the sky opened up during his jog one morning. Snow, he could have handled, he was dressed for it. Slushy sleet mixed with hail was another matter. He ducked inside to hide until it passed, chatted with the owner for a bit, and brought Robin with him the next day because they had an amazing spread of waffle toppings, including crumbled bacon, and Steve knew she’d go crazy about it.
He was correct, and it was their go to spot, not just for breakfast.
At the end of January, Rebecca sat down to join them, and handed Steve an application.
Steve was already working at a JC Penny in the stock room, and picked up a few hours at a roller rink filling in when someone called out. They had enough money to live. Not decadently, but they could cover all their bills, and keep gas in the car, and buy supplies for Robin’s classes.
“Uh, Rebecca, I’m- thank you? But. My memory sucks, and my hearing isn’t great, and if someone starts getting rude, I’m going to get rude back to them, and --”
“This is a diner, hun,” she stopped him, “You write the orders down, you can always tell someone to say it again, and the fact you can shut down anyone that gives you lip is why I think you’ll be good at it. Like I said, it’s a diner. We don’t have to be all sunshine and daisies here.”
“I’m working at another--”
“Over at the mall and the rink, I know. And I know you’re free Monday through Wednesday mornings. And,” she stressed, “staff gets free meals and first dibs on the day olds.”
“Dingus!" Robin gasped and grabbed his arm. "Do it, do it. Stevie. Please, oh my god, please, you have to take it. You can bring me the brioche buns. And that apple butter. And that thing with the nuts! Steeevveee, don’t you love your soulmate? Please? I cou--”
So Steve took the job, and worked a few mornings a week. By the third week of February, he stopped feeling like he was going to fuck up any second. He understood why Rebecca liked his ability to get bitchy in the face of difficult customers, and he and Robin had cupboards well stocked with random take homes.
He liked it. Starting at five in the morning took some getting used to, but he was done by one, and traded off with a middle aged mom named Susan after the lunch rush settled down. Was it a ton of money? No. But he got more tips than he expected to, and the brioche really was delicious.
The last week of February, he was working alone on a Tuesday, at the start of the lunch rush, expecting Susan to arrive soon, and an easy day.
“Be with you in a minute,” he called to whoever just came inside, bussing half a dozen empty plates from table two after dropping off more creamer at table four. He looped back, ducking behind the counter to put the plates on the pass through for Nick to grab.
He dropped the entire stack before he got there.
His hands clenched down, his muscles locked, and even though it should have made him hold harder, everything slipped, and either shattered on the tiles or banged into his feet.
Jim Hopper winced from his seat at the counter. “Sorry, kid.”
The couple of other diners glanced up to check on him, and John looked around the window from the kitchen. Steve didn’t move. Couldn't. Could barely breathe.
“Is it back?”
“No.”
His exhale shook out of him before he shoved down the panic.
“Then whatever this is can wait.”
“I’m just here to talk.”
“And I said it can wait.”
He swept up the broken dishes, shrugged off John’s silent offer to throw Hopper out, and reminded himself there was no reason to think that the Upside Down was back. That meant this was going to be more awkward and less dangerous, and he was going to hate it, but it was still the better version of the day.
“What’ll you have?”
“Kid, I’m here to talk cause I didn’t think you’d want me at your place.”
“And I’m at work, and this is a diner, so what’ll you have?”
“Steve--”
“I’ll bring you coffee. I’m not talking about this while I’m working.”
“Coffee’s good. When are you off?”
Steve gave his bitchiest smile, didn’t answer, and went to seat the couple that just walked in.
The lunch rush was a mercy. Susan handled Hopper, and gave him the iciest service anyone had ever gotten under that roof. Hopper took it gracefully, but he didn’t shift, or push, or give any indication that he wasn’t willing to sit there til midnight if he had to.
Normally, Steve would get some lunch to go and head home. If the weather was bad, he ate at the booth in the corner to wait it out. With the way his stomach was twisting, unable to separate Hopper from what his arrival could mean, he wasn’t going to keep food down. He filled a glass of water, then silently gestured Hop to follow.
“Good to see you, Steve,” he said when they sat. “You and Robin doing okay up here?”
“We’re fine. Why are you here? If it isn’t something to do with, you know, then why are you here?”
“Maybe I just came up to check on you.”
“Did you?” Steve snorted into his drink when that question made Hopper’s face twist up. “So what is this?”
“I am here to check on you. There’s something else, but I came here because I’m checking on you. Me and you weren’t all that close, but you had Mrs Buckley give me your info so I’d know where you were.”
“Yeah, in case of an emergency. And you said there wasn’t any emergency. Plus, you had my phone number, so you could have called, which would be way less weird than showing up while I’m at work, you know?”
Hopper scratched at his cheek. “It’s not an emergency compared to all the reasons you wanted me to be able to find you, but if you ask those kids, this may as well be the end of the world again.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Yeah, well. Henderson is gonna get himself arrested if he keeps trying to steal the mail and find something addressed to you. Max keeps pushing El to try and find you. The only reason they haven’t gone completely crazy is because of the Buckleys telling them that you’re fine. She gave me your address and number, and she talked for a little bit about the kids.”
Steve smiled at that. Mrs Buckley had never talked a ‘little bit’ about anything in her life. Either she was holding the line on being rude to anyone that might bother them, or Hop was pretending he hadn’t listened to a solid hour of rambling.
“Still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“Want to ask if I can -- shit, I don’t know. I can route mail back and forth so they never have your address or something. I’d rather give them your info so I don’t have to be involved, but I already know you won’t agree to that.”
Steve ignored the pause that Hopper left there. Conversation and good manners said he should concede to something so he wouldn’t inconvenience the man too much. The last month with Robin supporting his choice kept his mouth shut. She’d be pissed at him if he folded, and worse, she’d help him get through all the pain it caused if he did talk to the kids again. Then he’d feel guilty and sad.
“Alright,” Hopper grumbled, “Didn’t think you would, but you know how those kids can be. Can’t fault me for trying.”
“So, we’re done? You sat here all this time just to talk for three minutes?”
“Almost.”
“So….” At least Steve could enjoy the fact that neither of them were enjoying this. Hopper winced a bit before he spoke.
“I didn’t tell any of the kids I was coming up to see you. None of them knew, and none of them are gonna know. Didn’t even tell Joyce why, just that I was driving up to Indy. Already had a plan in case they tried to tail me up here. So, had a surprise this morning when I got to my truck. it might change your answer.”
“Didn’t know you were so dramatic about stuff.”
“Side effect of two hours with that surprise, I guess. Eddie Munson came up with me.”
Any of the kids would have hurt.
Henderson might have made him cry.
Eddie Munson? That didn’t make sense.
They weren’t friends, never had been. The Upside Down meant they were connected, but they were never more than acquaintances, even when Steve was desperately trying to keep them all close. Sure, he’d taken over as the chauffeur for the kids, and everyone’s new best friend, but that didn’t explain why he’d bother to come up to talk to Steve.
“What the hell? Why?”
“He asked.”
“And you said yes.”
“He said please.”
That was not the whole story. There was something getting skipped over, left out. Hopper tolerated Munson, but he wouldn’t do him a favor if there wasn’t some kind of monster involved.
“Wait, you’ve been here for two hours.”
“Yep.”
“Did you just leave him in your truck this whole time? That front came through overnight. The high is thirty four today.”
“Yeah, I did,” Hopper said flatly. “He told me he wanted to come up so he could talk to you. Told me a little bit about why. And I said yes and I let him come, but I told him that I was gonna talk to you first. If you said no, he was gonna stay in that seat clear back to Hawkins, and keep his mouth shut about this whole thing.”
“How’d he know what you were doing?”
“No clue.”
“What does he want to talk about?”
“Not gonna say it for him.” Hopper shifted towards the edge of the booth. “So, want me to tell him to buckle back up, or tell him to get his ass in here?”
A quick consult with the imaginary Robin in his head left him just as confused, but curious as hell. He agreed, and fidgeted with a napkin, struggling to think of any reason why Eddie Munson would want to talk to him, or what the hell he said that the kids hadn’t that convinced Hopper to drive him up.
Stuck in his head, Steve jumped when a mess of a man in denim and leather slid shivering into the seat opposite. The scars on his face and hands were less vivid than they were last time they saw each other, but they still worked as a thermometer. Steve's did the same.
“Why the hell were you sitting in the cold, man?”
Eddie blinked, and froze where he was rubbing his hands together trying to get feeling back. “Hopper took the keys.”
Steve’s turn to blink. This was the guy taking care of his kids.
“Susan?” He called, gesturing for two when she lifted the coffee carafe in a question.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here or why you care or what the hell is happening, but I’m not gonna let you sit there shaking cause you’re a dumbass who doesn’t know what gloves are.”
Steve watched packet after packet of sugar pour into Eddie’s, while he stirred a splash of half and half into his own cup. Eddie took a gulp, hissed at the heat, and clutched at the mug, eyes glued to the nicked surface of the table.
“I’m sorry.”
“For rotting your teeth out? That’s your choice, Munson.”
“No,” Eddie insisted, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry about the kids.”
Steve took a breath, took a sip, took another breath. “Look, man, that’s not on you. You play D&D with them, and you like all their nerdy shit. I was -- They grew up. We got through everything, all of that, we won, and they grew up. It’s not your fault that they like you more than they liked me. So, thanks, I guess, but--”
“Steve. No. They didn’t. They -- those kids did not suddenly grow up and decide they didn’t like you anymore. You are their favorite person anywhere, ever, you will be for the rest of eternity, and they don’t understand why no one will tell them how to reach you. They put on a really good show about being mad about it, but, come on, you know what they’re like. They want to apologize cause they know they hurt you, and they want to fix it, and just, you gotta let them try, Steve. You gotta let them talk to you. They miss you so fucking much.”
“Look, I know how they get, and I know how dramatic they are, but it’s still not your fault--”
“It is. Steve. It is my fault. That’s - That’s why you have to talk to them. Cause they didn’t grow up and get over you or decide they didn’t care about you. Those kids are crazy about you, and they never stopped, and they’re hurt right now cause they don’t understand why you left them, and you gotta fix it with them, please.”
Something pinged weird in his ear when he heard the way Munson’s voice cracked. Not just worry, not just helping, not just caring about the kids. Guilt. He was taking the blame for it, even though that didn’t make any sense. The kids were - brats, gremlins, terrors, the most stubborn people he’d ever met, and he knew Nancy Wheeler. If they wanted to be around him, they would be around him.
It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, or anyone’s fault. It hurt like hell, and Steve wished it wasn’t true, but this was just life. Kids grew up, their interests moved. Friendships changed and ended.
But that crack of guilt…
“How is it your fault and not theirs that they stopped wanting to ever see me?”
Eddie’s hands stopped shaking from the cold before he got the coffee.
His hands were shaking again.
Trembled in the time between Steve asking, and Eddie managing to respond.
“I, uh, I asked them to.”
----
Don't be too mad at him yet. He has a lot more to say.
Part Five >>>
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Every Minute, Every Hour (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Summary: You were out. You were out goddamnit. How was he here?
A/N: Soooo.... It’s been awhile. Writer’s block is an absolute son of a bitch. So this is based on an idea I had and requested to @venus-haze a couple months ago and which I almost completely forgot about until I got this request and I decided two birds and all that. I also acknowledge that there was another similar request made a while back, to the person who requested it don’t worry, I do have plans for it.
Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and delusional behavior. Dubious Consent in regards to coersion being involved. Loss of virginity. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), female mastubation, slight dumbification, and implied anal play. Brief depictions of choking. Touch-starvation. Mentions of Pregnancy. Referenced cheating on Elvis' part. Self-loathing. Stockholm Syndrome(?) Probably more that I am blanking on. Period-typical homophobia and closeted characters depicted. Please do not interact if you are under 18.
Word Count: 19.8K
Masterlist
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You look like an angel (look like an angel)
Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
You’re the devi-
It takes you longer than you would have liked to reach the radio and turn it off. And it’s only as you reach it do you realize how odd it looks from the outside when you see a customer looking at you funny.
“Not much of a fan,” you say with an admittedly pathetic smile on your face.
“I can see that,” he replies with an awkward smile, before going back to browsing the books.
You bashfully turn the radio back on and quickly try to turn the knob to anything even remotely comprehensible, but it’s just your luck that this is the only station you get decent reception on in the store. With no other choice but to simply grin and bear it you put the volume on low and return to reading your book.
You do keep an eye on your final customer of the evening, and hope he hurries up so you can finally close up for the day. Susan had been complaining about a migraine since lunch and Gina was caring for her upstairs and so it was on you to close up the shop on your own today.
You feel embarrassed to have been seen that way but that all falls away when you hear the shop bell ring, only to be immediately followed by tiny rapid footsteps and an excited little “mama!” and you grab onto the counter before your little two and a half foot terror can knock out from behind you. Which ends up being the right call as you feel her head butt your knees and locking her arms around them nearly knocking you down.
“Mama! Mama!” she squealed, practically vibrating, she was so excited to see you.
“Rosie! Rosie!” you say, equally as happy to see her though you do a far better job at reining it in. She takes your hands in hers as you crouch down to look at her, and take stock. Her hair is askew with the ribbons you had tied in place this morning holding on for dear life in her beautiful curls, her face is smudgy with what you’re hoping is chocolate, and one of her socks is just gone, but both shoes are in place so you can only imagine how your little hellion managed that. Overall this is the best condition Rosie has returned to you in, after a long day with Jenny.
“Mama, Aunty Jenny took me to the Candy store!” she says, showing off the candy bracelets on her tiny wrists.
“Really,” you say, shooting a look at your friend for giving her so much sugar before bed. The woman in question has the courtesy to at least look a little guilty about it, before giving a small laugh.
“Mm-hmm. And we saw Danny at the playground and we-we saw Uncle Lee’s friends, and then we listened to a lotta music, and we saw a movie about a wizard and there was no one else in the whole room, and then-then…” she rapidly rambles on but you pepper her face in kisses before she can pass out from the lack of oxygen. She giggles uncontrollably and tries to squirm out of your grip, but you gotta get in one good raspberry on her cheek before you let her go.
“Alright, why don’t you go upstairs and help Aunty Gina finish up dinner,” you tell her with a smile on your face. Her “help” in the kitchen is typically watching and holding spoons and spatulas on a step stool, but she’s at an age where she believes the whole dish would fall apart without her important contribution to it, so she goes rushing to the stairs.
But she quickly comes running back while taking the uneaten bracelet off of her wrist. “Danny said to give this to you for your birthday,” she declares. Ever since meeting Jenny’s nephew she’s seemed to hang on to every word of his, and though you’ve never met the boy he seems to be a good kid, always polite and saying hello through your daughter, but has, as you've heard, an extreme affinity towards spinning a few too many fantastical stories. But your daughter is far too young to see him as anything but a friend so you doubt you have anything to worry about as of right now.
She’s always so eager to tell you about everything, and you’re just as eager to listen. Your folks never wanted to hear anything from you, and you pray that your attentiveness will pay off one day when she is never afraid to come to you with your troubles. Maybe if you had that with your mother you wouldn’t be where you were.
“Well tell him I said thank you,” you say, as you pull it on your wrist, placing a small kiss on her forehead before she books it back to the stairs behind the counter. As you stand back up, to your surprise you find the customer now at the counter with a good stack of books.
“Sorry to bother Miss…ummm…” the customer says nervously.
“Love,” you clarify for him. “Y/N Love.”
He gives a shy smile at that, “Well Miss Love, I’m ‘bout ready to check out so…” he says gesturing to his tower of books.
“Of course,” you answer and you begin to ring him up. He’s got quite a few so at least he makes the extra time staying down here somewhat worth it.
“Whatcha readin’ there,” he asks you, pointing to the open book you’ve left to your side. You show him your copy of We have always lived in the castle. “I-is it any good?”
“I would say so,” you answer. Though that ending did hit a little too close to home, you think to yourself.
“So umm, d-do you like to read?” he asks hesitantly as he quietly adds a copy of the book to his pile.
“I’d be in the wrong business if I didn’t,” you joke, and he laughs a little too hard. “How ‘bout you?” you ask, wanting to not have an awkward silence, as you’re not even halfway through the stack.
“Yeah, I-I love reading though I don’t got a lotta time for it these days,” he says with a guilty smile on his face.
“Why’s that?” you ask, since it seems to be the only way this conversation could go.
“I-I just started my residency at Charity Hospital,” he says bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Sam by the way,” apparently realizing that he hadn’t made the proper introductions.
“Y/N,” you say, giving him a small nod and a smile. “And congratulations on your residency,” you're almost done with the final few books, but you may or may not be taking your time to finish them up, wanting to prolong the conversation you’re having for a bit.
“Thank you, and I- well, umm… I couldn’t help but overhear your daughter, but umm… Happy Birthday,” he says ducking his head, a bit embarrassed at his own admission.
“Oh, thank you,” you say, your face heating up slightly that he had heard.
“Your Husband’s a lucky man,” he says, though he does steal a quick glance at you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction.
So this is what it’s about, you think to yourself. “I’m actually not…” you trail off, and hope that he gets the message.
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” he stated before his eyes widened as he realized what he just said. “I-I mean not glad like I’m happy that you-you’re not married, bu-but glad li-like I’m relieved that I hav-haven’t been trying to build up the courage to talk to a cute girl for the past few weeks only to find out she’s married already.” he blathers on and you can’t help but laugh.
Your heart does flutter a bit at his confession. Everything about this feels like it should be perfect. Unfortunately for the both of you, you finally get a good look at his icy blue eyes that are a little too familiar for comfort, and it feels like your throat closes up.
You can feel your stomach churning (and not just from the baby that fills it) and cold regret for not buying an extra pair of socks as you sit at the Greyhound terminal in Nashville, your feet starting practically turning into ice blocks. That cold November morning you had made a show of telling everybody you were gonna make a quick trip down to the shops for some eggs, now you’re almost a full state away praying that the bus gets here soon, jumping every time a set of headlights passes by and you're just barely keeping dry underneath the metal canopy.
But for as cold as you are physically, your chest starts to heat up at the prospect that you’re so close to freedom from an even colder gaze. When the bus does get there you hardly sleep a wink afraid to let your guard down even now. You know how well he could sabotage your plans if he was so inclined, from small things like spoiling the surprise party you had planned for him to the major of ruining your chances to get into another school.
You know he’s half a world away yet that still does little knowing what the most loyal of his are willing to do for him. It’s not until you finally make it to the train station in Atlanta that’ll take you down to New Orleans that you finally give in to your heavy eyelids, willing to trust strangers with your safety, aware they can’t hurt you any worse than those you know have done.
You shake your head as you’re brought back to the present, and you hear him say something, “I’m sorry what?” you covertly wiggle your toes as you try to ground yourself and get sensation back in them as though you were just getting them out of the cold.
“I was just sayin’ there’s this club down on Bourbon that I been meanin’ to check out since movin’ down here, and I was hopin’ a local such as yourself could show me ‘round these parts,” he says, a nervous but hopeful smile on his lips.
For a moment you can almost imagine saying yes to him, how he would take you out on the town, how he would kiss you, how he would throw your daughter up in the air. How maybe you could be happy with him.
But like a looming black cloud, in spite of the lowered volume, you hear what the new station is now playing, clear as a bell.
Oh please come to my arms and say you'll love me forever
For with the dawn, you'll be gone
It’s almost as though He’s following you, serving as a constant reminder of what you did, and that you’re never allowed to imagine being with another man. You wordlessly turn off the radio before you’re forced to listen anymore. “Uhh, I-I’m sorry, I-I really don’t go out much,” you say, trying to shut this down as gently as you could.
“Oh-uhh, that’s fine I umm,” he says, pivoting hard. “I’m more of a movie guy myself, I hear he’s got a new one out, and we can go and watch anything but that,” he gives a small laugh pointing to the radio, but quickly drops it upon seeing your grim expression.
Without knowing it Sam just shut the coffin on any potential happenings between the two of you. “I’m sorry, it’s late and I gotta close up for the night,” you say softly, and he’s smart enough to take the hint.
“O-of course,” he says looking down at the books he has in his hands. “But can you promise you’ll think about it?” he asks as he reaches the door to look back at you.
Even before you open your mouth, you already know that your next words are going to make you lose a customer forever. “There’s nothing to think about,” you say, trying to feign apathy. Harsh as your words may be, you know this is far kinder to him in the long run as opposed to getting more involved with you.
You watch him leave the store with a sagging shoulders and a long face, before you feel a hand meet violently with the back of your head, and you swivel around to see Jenny with an exasperated look on her face. “So a handsome, single, doctor who loves to read, and doesn’t mind that you already got a kid, asks you out and you say…” she trails off, seeming to only get more offended with every dreamy quality he had.
“Don’tchu get like that Jenny,” you defend yourself, as you stomp to the door in order to flip the sign to closed and lock up for the night. “I’ve got a daughter to worry about and I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now.”
“Well newsflash Y/N,” she argues, “Rosie needs a daddy.”
You feel your hackles rising at that statement. “No she doesn’t,” you state firmly, not wanting to raise your voice, because you know better than anyone how easy it is to be overheard.
She deflates a little at your obvious fury at this line of questioning, before letting out a long tired sigh. “It’s just that… when we were at the park today… she asked me why she didn’t have one. And she… she just kept pressing,” she says obviously ashamed that she hurt you, but wanting to get across her reasoning. “What am I supposed to say to that? Especially when you won’t tell nobody what happened. I only got her to drop it when I took her to the candy shop.”
You feel guilty for snapping at your friend. Jenny Hodge had been an absolute godsend since you met her almost a year ago, when she and her new husband, Lee, had moved down from Alabama. Her arrival had coincided when Rosie started becoming aggressively mobile and insisted that running was the only way to get around anymore. And because she felt she needed practice with being a Mama before she had one of her own, she insisted on being your one and only babysitter, in exchange for free books every so often.
The story around the block is that you are were the young widow who “tragically” lost her husband in an accident before he ever had the chance to meet your beautiful daughter, and with no one in the world left to turn to, you ended up on your “spinster” aunt and her “good friend” Susan’s doorstep. And Jenny, since hearing your story, has by far been your most fervent supporter outside of this house, with her support primarily coming in two flavors: 1) helping you with your daughter so she isn’t so cooped up in the store while you work and 2) trying to set you up with any moderately successful man.
“Y/N,” she says softly. “I get that it’s hard to get back out there, but you need to think about the bigger picture, because it’s only a matter of time before she starts asking you.”
You know she’s right, and that’s the worst part about it. Your little Rosie Love is a stubborn one, not to mention smart, always has been. Didn’t want to walk because she wanted to run. Hated her diaper so much she learned how to unpin it when she was barely a year old. Wanted to try to feed herself when she first took to solid food, and would snatch the spoon out of your hand when she could. She’s broken out of every play pen she’s ever been in. Hell, she was almost two weeks overdue, and the doctors were forced to induce you, she didn’t want to come out until she was good and ready.
She, like someone else you knew, is capable of throwing a wrench into any plan you make. For as endearing as it can be, it is all the more frustrating knowing exactly where she gets it from.
With a long defeated sigh, you concede to her point and thank her for both her input and for being a good friend this past year. And maybe someday you’ll be ready to find another husband.
She has a wide cheshire-cat like grin as you say that, “And I’mma ‘bout to be a better one,” she practically sings. “Lee’s friend is in town, and I think you two would hit it off.”
“And I think we wouldn’t,” you state, putting books back where they belong.
“C’mon Y/N, I thought we were past this,” she whines.
“I did say someday, not today,” you emphasize.
“Y/N, your birthday’s comin’ up soon, and it ain’t like you’re gettin’ any younger. Besides Lee and I are already trying for a baby, so I ain’t gonna be so available much longer neither,” she says in a soft voice holding your hands in hers. “And you need to find someone you can rely on too, it’s not like you wanna end up like your Aunt Gina”
You say nothing not wanting to say anything incriminating about the relationship between your Aunts, as for all that you trust Jenny, you don’t trust her enough with somebody else’s secrets.
“Just promise me you'll think about it at least,” she pleads, hands clasped over your own.
What is it about people that, not trusting you when you answer the first time, and thinking given enough time you’ll come around?
Yet you're no better as you let out a long tired sigh, before ultimately agreeing, if only to get her off your back. Or so you tell yourself.
She tells you a bit about the man she has in mind for you, or more accurately she keeps insisting how perfect the two of you would be together. In her mind it’ll be love at first sight, how he’ll love and accept Rosie as his own immediately, how she guarantees that you’ll be married within a year and be trying to give Rosie a little brother or sister. You have to bodily shove her out the door by that point lest she get into any more specifics in her attempt to sway you.
Jenny’s a little older than you, but she is very much a romantic at heart, you suppose, though that’s the benefit of things going right in your life.
But your story went wrong.
“Why you in such a hurry to get out girl?” your accomplice would ask as he handed you the money (He had made it a point of order that you were never to handle any) the day before your escape.
“There’s someone else,” you say simply, because it’s true and if they were to ever betray your trust this would be worse on them than on you.
You got away with quite a bit back in the day like getting out of trouble for making out in a dark empty classroom by claiming to have been caught by surprise by your monthlies and now you couldn’t bear the thought of being seen like this. Or when you got hired by the library for the summer after you approached the front desk and claimed to be the new hire ready for her first day of training and nobody really bothered to check in with anybody else. Even that one time when you confidently strolled backstage at a music hall He had wanted to perform all to sneak them in through the back door and convinced just enough people that his band was meant to perform that night.
Your ability to make up stories on the fly and map things out in your head had led you to believe that you would make for a pretty good mystery writer. You had even tried to go to school to be one, though you told everyone it was to be a teacher, a far more respectable and womanly job.
Well not everyone.
He certainly knew.
Knew about your talent for planning and story-telling, and was practically always in awe to see it in action. But this recognition came at the expense that he was aware of your tricks and he always knew how to throw you off just enough to make any plans you made go belly up. Whether it was something relatively small like figuring out you were planning a surprise party to the major… like when you tried to end things the first time around.
He called you almost every night when he was on tour, and you had done your best to relay all that was going on back in Memphis. And in spite of his insistence that he wants to hear about it, you suspect that he wasn’t being truthful. He especially seemed disgruntled when you made any mention of doing anything with anyone else. Your friends, his friends, even your own family weren’t safe from his ire.
When He was here you would do everything together, yet now that you tell him about all that you’d been doing, there is a slight but noticeable edge when he speaks to you over the phone. Everytime you mention how you went to the movie theater or you went to the record store or the bookshop, it was almost always met with a solemn “we used to do that together.”
You would have gone with him, had your parents let you, and He knows that so you don’t understand why he’s so sore about the fact that you’re not simply sitting on your hands back home waiting for him to return.
So in an effort to spare his feelings you asked him about the things he was doing, you even go out of your way to say how happy you were when he was telling you about all of the fun things he had done on the road. You’re happy to hear it all and you thought
You miss him just as fiercely but you don’t want it to stop you from living.
But when you got your acceptance letter, you saw the writing on the wall. You both were going in different directions: you were going to be studying, were barely going to be home and his star just kept growing and growing each day taking him further out and making him harder to reach. You know you wanted this and you begin to suspect you may want it more than you want to stay with him, if staying with him meant being alone all the same.
This was only confirmed in the weeks leading up to Prom when you couldn’t get a straight answer out of him of whether or not He would be able to make it. It was on you to practically plan everything down to what he would wear, while his whole contribution was to show up- maybe?
Whether He did show up or not that night, you thought the result would be the same with you officially breaking things off between you two. But you still held out hope that at least if he did come you would have one last good memory.
And to your relief He does make it, but he’s a little off the whole night. Not in the sense that his mind is elsewhere, more like he’s trying to commit everything about the night into memory, and looking at you with sad eyes when he thinks you’re not looking.
It all comes to a head when you’re parked outside of your house, and you’re sitting in a loaded silence with him at the wheel. He’s gripping onto that thing for dear life and you’re wondering if maybe you should save it, but you think you know yourself well enough to know that if you don’t say it now, you won't say it ever.
So as he’s opening his mouth to say something, you cut him off with his name.
“...I-I got accepted to Southwestern,” you blurted out to him and He looked so confused at your admission, but you push through. “I start in the fall, so I’m not gonna be home much anymore, and with y-you being on the road so much, I think it best that we-”
“Marry me,” he blurts out, panic etched across his face.
Your jaw is left practically on the floor as that was the last thing you ever expected out of his mouth.
You would later find out that he went to Prom with the same intention as you did but it was in that moment that he realized you weren’t going to wait for him to come back did he want to lock you down. But you didn’t see that in the moment.
What you saw at the time was the declaration that he was just as committed as you were, and so overwhelmed by the love you still felt for him at the time, you had no choice but to give an emphatic yes to him.
“We’re gonna figure this out baby,” He promises with a kiss.
That was the first time you tried to leave him.
“-Danny’s a real good singer Aunty. He told me he lives in Neverland and one day he would take me and-and he told me this is the only place in the whole word that they sell peanut butter cups,” you would hear as you made your way up the stairs connecting to the apartment above the store. You look into the small kitchen where you see your little girl sitting on the counter talking her aunt’s ear off idly dangling her little feet while holding a spatula you're not entirely sure is necessary. Gina looks over to you and gives you a playfully exasperated look, and you simply shrug your shoulders before moving into the small kitchen to pepper your little one's face in kisses.
“Alright sticky missy,” you announce, blowing a raspberry on her cheek and swiping the utensil out of her hand as she trills in delight. “You go wash up for dinner now, ya’ hear, and go wake up Aunty, I think she’ll feel alot better seeing you.”
“Ok Mama,” she says. She is utterly fearless as she slides herself to get off of the counter, and lands on her feet below. You can’t help the swell of pride that bubbles up in your chest seeing it, how brave your little girl is. You hope that you can take it as a sign that you’re doing ok at this motherhood thing.
Gina likes to say that you were just as bold at that age with the confidence of someone so sure they can take on the world, and in quieter moments she’ll lament how you lost that in you. You would be offended if you didn’t already know when exactly you lost it.
She had always been your favorite Aunt until you were about twelve and and your father would coldly tell you she died and was in hell now. Rather than a funeral, the family got together to destroy her things and swear to never speak of her again.
That didn’t stop her from visiting you one last time and telling you she was moving down to New Orleans with her friend Susan. She would take you to your favorite bookstore one last time in Memphis and promised that if you ever needed a place to stay, to not even hesitate to come, because she knew better than anyone what your family would do to girls who stepped out of line.
For years the only evidence that she was even alive was the annual birthday and Christmas gift you would get from her all under the guise of Nancy Drew books stamped with the name of a bookstore all the way in New Orleans. You cherished them and it’s one of the few things you took after your parents kicked you out.
You only wished you had taken the offer when your father had kicked you out and you were forced to rely on someone else.
“So I hear you broke another heart,” Gina idly says as she starts scooping some rice onto a plate.
You let out a long sigh, “When did Jenny find the time to tell you?” You’re more amazed than annoyed considering she didn’t leave your sight once down stairs.
“Jenny?” she says, raising a brow. “No Sue told me earlier how Lou from King’s Cafe ‘s been askin’ after you.”
Lou who always had extra beignets to give away when you took Rosie for a walk in the mornings. He recently asked if you had ever been on the Algiers ferry, and how beautiful it looked at night.
…You’ve been taking a different route to the playground since then.
“Is my love life just everybody’s business,” you ask frustrated that you weren’t even given a five minute break from this.
“In this house: yes,” she states, a grin on her face.
“Gina if this is about me movin’ out, you can talk to me, I’m a big girl,” you insist, trying to deflect and not have to think about it anymore.
“Sweetheart,” she says solemnly, placing a hand on your cheek. I may not be your mama, but I do think that you need to think about what’s best for Rosie,” she insists as she puts place mats down on the table.
Gina’s a little closer to the situation than Jenny, as she had asked no questions as to why you all of a sudden needed a place to stay far from your parents with nary a husband or boyfriend in sight to take responsibility for the baby growing within you. She had also been the one to help spread the tragic young widow narrative, and for as much of a gossip she can be, you know she’s a steel trap for secrets that matter.
“What does me getting, or not getting, a boyfriend have to do with Rosie?”
“A boyfriend? Nothing,” she dismisses. “A husband on the other hand…”she says with a smile.
“Don’tchu come talkin’ to me ‘bout gettin’ a husband,” you say, handing her another plate of food.
She laughs at that, “It’s not just about you gettin’ a husband, it’s about Rosie gettin’ a father,” she insists amused at your mulishness.
“Not you too,” you mourn what you thought was going to be a quiet evening.
“I’m just sayin’ that every child deserves two parents,” putting the lid back on the pot.
“She’s got three mama’s,” you counter.
“No,” she says waving the wooden spoon in front of your face. “She’s got one mama and two grandmas that spoil her rotten behind your back.” You open your mouth to protest, until she quickly follows up with, “Oh speak of the devil herself,” as you see your little troublemaker dragging Susan by the hand to the table, whom you had to bully into taking a rest to somewhat alleviate the migraine she had been having for most of the day.
Your daughter can talk for hours if left unchecked and you're eager to hear all of it as she bounces from subject to subject at the dinner table. You had always felt somewhat guilty intruding on their space, but Gina insists nothing of the sort and Susan jokes that the two of them are getting the full kid/grandkid experience through you and Rosie, since the traditional way ain’t for them.
Between bites she regaled the three of you with all that she did today which included seeing a dog, the playground being shiny, spinning around so fast on the merry-go-round she almost went into space, made friends with some of the ducks, saw another dog, Danny gave her his popcorn, got a lot of candy from the candy shop, and gave some jelly beans to the last dog she saw today, but only the green ones she doesn’t like, and then feeling bad about it and giving it some of the red ones to even it out.
She doesn’t mention anything to you about asking Jenny about why she doesn't have a daddy, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the first break you’ve had all day. Some may say you indulge her too much, but all three grown women at this table know exactly how it feels to have their thoughts and feelings ignored, and you all had come to the mutual understanding that Rosie would never have to feel this way in this house.
“Mama, I forgot to tell you,” Rosie states after she shoveled the last of her food into her mouth. “Barbie got a new job today!” she delights as she thrusts the doll in your face.
“Really?” you say trying to match even a quarter of her excitement. “Is she mmm… a firefighter?”
“No!” she squeals, delighted in the game you play with her.
Making a big show of putting a finger to your temple and closing one eye, apparently deep in thought, you ask, “Is she a… detective?”
“No that was yesterday!” she’s practically buzzing to tell you, but holds it in to keep this game going.
“Oh!” you say, pretending to have a lightbulb moment. “She’s a wizard!” You know your daughter well enough, so you’re reasonably confident in your guess knowing that Jenny took her to see that Disney movie today.
“No,” she laughs, “She’s an actress, but she also sings in all her movies.”
“O-oh,” you say, genuinely caught off guard by that. “Why’s that?” It’s certainly not an unusual thing for a little girl to declare, but for your daughter it most definitely was. When she declared what Barbie was going to be it was always influenced by something she saw that day. Sometimes she was a baker, sometimes a ballerina, even one memorable time a bus driver, but this is a first. Even when she has seen movies with actors in it she didn’t quite understand the concept that those aren’t their real jobs on screen, and she would pick that, which is why you guessed wizard.
“Because Danny does that,” she declares, as she starts to make Barbie dance on the dinner table.
And then it made sense, your daughter’s friend, Danny, who according to Jenny, has a penchant for making up stories. To your daughter the boy’s been a cowboy, a soldier, he’s as strong as superman, can play any instrument, and now apparently is a famous actor.
You give an amused huff, “I see Danny’s at it again,” you state, as you take her plate. It’s a literal miracle that Jenny’s impromptu trip to the candy store didn’t spoil her appetite, and but you don’t know how much of an appetite she’ll have for dessert so you decide to just split a slice of King cake with her.
“At what mama?” she asks as Gina wipes some of her food off her face.
“He’s telling stories again,” you say as you bring Gina and Susan their dessert plates.
“No he’s not,” she states, furrowing her brow, and you can’t help but quirk a smile at how stressed she looks as you sit down. “I saw it myself.”
“I’m sure you did, but Honey, it's just… sometimes boys have a habit of telling… tall tales,” you suppose that’s the nice way of putting it. It’s a fine line you walk with her, wanting to have her believe in herself most of all, but also wanting her to not believe everything she’s told, especially by boys. You’re the textbook example of what happens to supposedly smart girls who get in too deep with charming boys.
“But it’s true mama,” she insists, raising her voice a bit.
“Sweetheart, I think he means, he wants to be that when he grows up,” you try to gently justify, as you subtly try to nudge the fork closer to her.
“No mama, I saw it,” she asserts, getting progressively more upset defending her friend. “He is a famous actor and he was singing and dancing at the theater.”
“And I’m sure he’s gonna be a big star one day when he’s all grown up,” you try to assuage how worked up she’s getting. “But I don’t think he’s one right now.”
“No mama!” she yells at the top of her lungs, angry tears streaming down her face. “You’re a liar!” You feel your stomach drop to the floor and she herself looks shocked at what she just said. She proceeds to cry even harder before turning tail and running straight into the room you share with her and slamming the door as hard as she could.
When you were far enough away, and somewhat comfortable in your new environment in Your Aunties home, the first thing you did was read nearly every book about motherhood you could find. You were determined to do this right as you had made the unilateral decision for your baby to only have one parent. So you decided as a means of making up for it you would be all the parent she would need.
Doubt creeps into the back of your throat that you made the wrong decision and that you in fact were not enough on your own and that she never would have done that if He were around.
“You want me to go talk to her?” Gina would ask after hearing your door slam shut.
As bad as you want to say yes from the exhausting day you’ve had so far, you’re not about to foist your duties as a mother off onto her right now. She understands but you don’t miss the pointed look she gives to Sue, as she walks away to clean up dinner, and you bury your hand in your face hoping if you wish hard enough this day will finally come to a close.
“I remember the first time I yelled at my mama,” Sue off-handedly says after a few minutes. “Always too scared that that wretched woman would beat me black and blue if I was ever less than perfect,” she takes a sip of her tea. “And she did just that when I got fed up with all her teasing about me getting a boyfriend.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
“What I’m gettin’ at is… I was never comfortable enough with my own mother to be angry with her.”
“Am I bad at this?”
“You’re still new at this Hon,” she reassures you. “There's a big difference.”
Despite the fact that Gina was the one related to you by blood, Sue’s the only one in the world who even has an inkling as to what exactly you left behind. And that is only because she was a front row spectator to it.
You had managed to get permission to leave the hotel room for a few hours while He was on set that day. He had brought you down from Memphis, not wanting you so far out of reach and yet you were still pretty much kept confined. You had long since exhausted the books you had brought for the trip, and you were practically itching to get out.
Books were your only escape from this place. Where you could vicariously solve a mystery or meet royalty or stop a war or any other number of exciting things in your head. But inevitably you close the book and the story ends and your back in this fucking hotel room.
You realize by getting more books you're just masking a symptom rather than actually treating the illness. You couldn’t take it anymore and had begged Him to at least let you go to a bookstore to keep you occupied, because by that point you were willing to pay the price for it.
Sue had been the only one in the store the day but you hadn’t really taken notice of her, your eyes had been darting around everywhere trying to find Gina. Sonny was in there as well, as you were only able to bargain your way to being in here and picking out the books, but not enough to be able to enter the store alone. Sonny had been the one to pull the short straw and had been put on Y/N duty today. Usually that consisted of sitting in the hotel and making sure you didn’t go anywhere while also completely ignoring you.
Everybody knows the story of the last guy that paid a little too much attention to you. You still couldn’t look at raw ground beef without crying.
Outside of the occasional gathering you don’t really interact with anybody out of the immediate vicinity of home. It’s funny how He can put you in a room filled to the brim with his people yet make you feel so alone at the same time. It would be amazing if it didn’t make you feel so awful at the same time.
It’s a terrible thing He does, but it’s made all the worse that so many people can see what he’s doing keeping you prisoner and isolated and yet no one will ever dare breach it
If anything they actually help him as they all report to him practically what you did that day, do their best to talk you out of leaving the room, and even when you do insist on going off on your own, the men are quick to remind you that He won’t like it one bit. They won’t physically stop you, (they know the worst thing they can do is put their hands on you) but you know that’s where their “help” begins and ends.
At one point you even tried to play ball and asked for His permission last time you were in LA and you had wanted to go to the Griffith Observatory. You had asked in advance, agreed to only being there for two hours, and even gave in to being essentially chaperoned from a distance. Initially He had agreed to the terms and You thought you had done good and maybe you were finally coming to somewhat of a middle ground with him.
But in the days leading up to the trip He would ask for favors in return. They all just happened to be things you had refused to do for him up until that point. When you refused He would at first seemingly accept your answer, and then He would idly remind you of your upcoming trip before asking you again. You weren’t stupid enough to miss the connection and so you did what you thought you had to do for just the slightest taste of freedom.
Who are you kidding?
You practically begged and did tricks for Him like a dog for just the slightest bit of slack on your leash.
You could barely move the morning of the trip both physically and emotionally drained from what he had you do the night before, but you still persevered if only to make all that you went through worth it.
It wasn’t worth it.
Everything you saw that day was completely soured by what you had to do to get there. Every step felt like agony, and you had to make a conscious effort to not walk funny. And before you knew it the two hours were up and Red was telling you it was time to leave.
You don’t know what’s worse, the punishments or the favors.
You had to go the favor route today as otherwise he would have simply sent for someone to get you whatever books they could find, rather than letting you pick. You already know you’re going to get it when he finds out you went to a different bookstore than initially planned. You thought you could at the very least make it worth it by seeing one familiar face, but even fate denied you that as Gina was nowhere to be seen.
It was cold enough to justify wearing something to cover up most of the bruises, but that didn’t mean they were all hidden. You wouldn’t know it at the time but your skittishness coupled with the bruises struck a chord with Susan before you fully checked out of the store.
“I’m sorry if this sounds like an odd question but ummm…” you say, glancing around, making sure that Sonny was too far to hear. “Does Gina work here?”
Sue immediately tenses up, and you curse your caginess, as you reassure her that you’re Gina’s niece, Y/N. She seems to relax hearing that so at least she knows that you try to maintain a good relationship, sporadic your letters may be.
“What happened there honey?” she asks, gesturing to your wrist that has a ring of bruises on it, which you quickly move to hide. You internally curse yourself for your sloppiness. He doesn’t mean to hurt you but he tends to lose himself and be a little rougher especially when he’s worried about something else.
He’s been a little rougher for a few months now.
“Oh-ummm,” you steal a glance at Sonny, who was making his way to the counter. “Yes I am ready to check out.” Gesturing to the three towers of books you’ve managed to accumulate.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sue nor does she miss Sonny's statement of remembering the rules as to what you’re allowed to get, if her disapproving look is anything to go by. He’s fine with you reading but doesn’t like you reading books that will put “ideas” in your head.
You don’t exactly know what that means as the standards seem to change depending on His mood and it’s always a gamble as to what he will or won’t allow you to have. You fear the day He grows the same hatred for fictional men that he has for any man within your vicinity.
You're genuinely sad when it comes time to pay, (Well Sonny pays, He doesn’t like the idea of you handling money), and then Susan does something you could never have anticipated in a million years as Sonny grabs one stack and goes to put it in the car.
You wished it had been anybody but Sonny that day. His last girlfriend, whom he swore he was gonna make Mrs. Sonny West, had made the mistake of trying to befriend you outside of gatherings. She stopped by the house frequently just to visit and even invited you out to the salon.
And it was your mistake to believe you could have a friend that he would finally approve of. Friend or family, He eventually found something to disapprove of for everybody close to you previously. You thought that because she was already nominally part of the group, it would be fine to go.
He made it clear by the time you got home that it wasn’t.
You never saw her again after that and Sonny’s resented you ever since. You can hardly blame him, it’s easier to point the finger at you for not anticipating the unspoken rules, as opposed to the man who signs his checks and makes the rules.
You know that even the slightest toe out of line will be reported back to Him in the worst light. So you had to be on your best behavior.
“Y’know I highly recommend this book,” Sue says, sliding the book she had been reading at the counter to you.
Wide Sargasso Sea, the cover reads.
“Oh thank you but I already paid,” you say, almost afraid of this conversation. “And besides I already have enough books.”
“Sweetheart you can never have too many,” she insists and without looking opens it up to the first page where you see a little handwritten note. She closes it up before you can see what it says and slyly slots it in the middle of a stack.
Later on when you feel sufficiently safe enough to look at it you nearly burst into tears.
In case you need help
feel free to call
(xxx-xxxx)
Such a small thing really, but it’s the most human connection you’ve had with anyone else but Him in a long time.
You spend the next hour or two committing that string of numbers to memory before you proceed to rip out that page, shred it, and flush the remnants down the toilet.
Even when you were burning the number into your brain, you never thought you would have ever had the guts to use it. Back when you thought you could accept what looked to be your fate.
It would be unfair to say it was all bad, after all there was a reason you did fall for Him in the first place. When you would read mysteries and He would listen to you criticize the culprits' plans and schemes and he would look in awe at how you would’ve gotten away with it. Or how fun it was to sneak out with him, your family none the wiser. Even when things got bad and it felt like He was the only one that would talk to you for days, you cherished it because it truly felt like he was your life line.
When things were good they were great, it was just when they were bad did you start to recognize them.
Things were bad a lot towards the end.
Gladys had been one of the few willing to go to bat for you, and perhaps the only one who He would listen to. She was the only one who could set him straight when he got huffy at the thought of you having some basic independence of being able to go outside and not needing to be watched like a child all the time.
She was the one you went to with your suspicions and early symptoms, when you were too afraid to go to the doctor that reported right back to Him.
She had also been the only one who knew your fears about having this baby. In your mind there were a total of two possibilities for the life the baby would live. One that they would live a life like yours, isolated within the walls of the house under their fathers obsessive gaze, never to experience the outside world. Or two He would hate the baby on principle and see it as just competition for your time and attention like he did with everybody else.
She did her best to try to quell your fears, trying to assert He would never do either of those things, especially, the last one.
But you saw it in her eyes how she knows how sour He would get when he would come home to find you playing with his younger cousins. How He gets when someone new so much as looks your way a beat too long, or has the gall to get your attention.
How you’re barely allowed to talk to other girls your own age and that’s only saved for special occasions when his friends bring their girlfriends and He’s otherwise occupied. And even then He has a penchant for just removing you from them just to have you sit with him, and you’re out in the awkward position of being the odd one out in his group.
How when you did gather up the nerve to bring up the topic of babies to him one night his answer was “I ain’t ready to share ya’ darlin’, I don’t think I’ll eva be.”
But your most hard-hitting evidence was what happened to your dog, Hardy. He had been an old stray you saw skulking around the property, and whom you took in when He was touring. Hardy didn’t have much of an interest in running around or playing fetch, just sitting by your side and eating treats.
Everything was good until He returned. You knew it was gonna be trouble the moment He walked through the door and saw you scratching the dog’s belly. Inspite of the fact that Hardy was usually tolerant of strangers, something about Him immediately put the usually placid dog on edge. You immediately got to work on trying to find some sort of compromise in regards to him, and offered everything from making Hardy a permanently outside dog to even being willing to have him be boarded with a family member while He was home.
You had asked Gladys where Hardy was the very next morning when you couldn’t find him anywhere, only to be told that He had taken him out for a walk. You didn’t have the heart to be told a lie when He returned alone.
He started taking you with him at that point, and you hardly knew a moment's peace after that.
Your attention is not your own to freely give away, let alone your affection, He expects it all to go to him. He did lord knows what to a dog that had had the misfortune of occupying some of your time when he was there, you hardly wanted to chance the life of a baby that would need all of it.
However in spite of all of that, you thought with her by your side you would be able to weather his reaction, whatever it may be. Even if your worst fear came to be and He didn’t really want anything to do with the baby, you could at least have someone to love the baby just as fiercely even when you were otherwise occupied by Him. It wasn’t necessarily fair, but you could somewhat see the function of it, and in spite of the weariness he’s instilled in you by that point, you were still reasonably confident in your ability to plan for the long term.
And then Gladys died.
And you were left to navigate the hardest thing you could face alone.
“Ain’t nobody ever talks about how hard this can be. Or how easy it is to mess up,” Sue continues as she polishes off her plate. “But maybe…” she prods. “If you had a partner to help ease the load, you wouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”
You groan at this point wanting to truly be done with this day already. “Not this again,” you bemoan.
“Honey,” she says with a firm but comforting grip on your shoulder. “I know a thing or two about leaving bad things behind, but I do think sometimes you need to let someone else in to help you recover,” she says. And almost like they rehearsed it, Gina comes in with a mug of tea, and a kiss to Susan’s forehead as she demands she go back to bed to rest up.
You want to argue back that you did a good enough job of recovering by yourself, but that’s hardly fair to say considering how you were about as helpless as Rosie herself that first year and a half you were here. You had thought that you would’ve been out of here maybe a couple months after giving birth, and been in a completely new place with no ties whatsoever. But the reality is that there’s no possible way you or Rosie would have survived without the help they were so willing to give.
And that’s all they’re trying to do now.
You take a minute to fully gather yourself, as you realize you being upset won’t help Rosie in the slightest. You also pick up the slice of cake, as you don’t want her to think she’s being punished for being upset with you.
You find her hiding underneath the blankets of the bed you share with her and you can only hear sniffling at this point. You try to approach this delicately, as this is new territory for the both of you, so you place the cake on the nightstand, crawl underneath the sheets with her, and allow for her to come to you. Luckily you don’t have to wait for long.
“Mama!” she cries as she buries her face in your bosom, her tears already soaking through the cotton material. “Mama, I didn’t mean it! Please don’t be mad! I’m sorry Mama! Please don’t leave.”
“Sweetheart it’s okay,” you reassure her, running your nails up and down her back, as it always did the trick of settling her down when she was a baby. “Mama’s not goin’ anywhere without you. I’m always gonna be with you.” You hardly put her down her first year of life, going against all the books and holding her at just about every possible moment, so you can hardly fathom where she got this idea in her head that you would leave if you got upset with her. But remembering what Jenny had told you earlier, you have the sneaking suspicion it is related to her noticing the lack of a father in her life.
“I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry…” she repeats over and over again, and for each time you make sure to reassure her that nothing she could ever do would make you leave.
Finally when she’s tired herself out and her eyes are red and raw do you finally speak. “Rosie, it’s okay to be mad, but it’s not okay to be mean, because you’re mad,” you say softly to her running your nails on her back, something that has always soothed her.
She rubs her eyes and wipes her runny nose before looking up at you again, and gives a groggy “I understand Mama.”
“Good,” you say, kissing her forehead. “Now can you help me finish this cake.”
You see her eyes widen before she eagerly grabs the fork and dives right in. With your help, it’s not long before it’s almost entirely gone and when she takes that final bite of the cake she goes wide-eyed sticking her fingers in her mouth to pick out the errant piece. “What’s this Mama?” she says holding the little porcelain baby up.
“Oh you found it Rosie,” you say excitedly, “This means you’re going to have good luck.”
“... Like a wish?”
“Sort of,” you answer.
She gives an excited shriek before she clasps the little figurine in her hands and whispers something almost inaudible to it, with the only recognizable words being “Danny” and “Neverland.” You’re slightly disappointed that your lesson hadn’t quite landed today, but you choose to leave it for now, as you don’t see the harm in wishing to go to a non-existent magical place.
Once teeth are brushed and pajamas are put on, Rosie settles into bed, but not before making sure you’re not about to break your long-held tradition of storytime. She’s the type of kid who when she likes one story she demands to hear it over and over again.
And lately she’s latched onto Rapunzel.
The whole concept does unsettle you greatly, for how close it is to your story. But whatever qualms you have with the story you’re not gonna deny your daughter, because your problems are your own cross to bear, not hers.
As you read it you get to the part where the witch mother casts her out of the tower and she wanders the forests with her children. You wonder if Rapunzel ever found joy in those years away from the mother who isolated her, away from the prince who could have taken advantage of her. She survived not only on her own, but kept others alive as well. WHat did she do? Did she forage and hunt for her babies, did she find a village where she could work to support her family?
Sometimes you wonder if she did truly live happily after the end of the story, or if she traded one cage for another as you did before.
Your daughter is long asleep by the time you reach the happily ever after part of the story. She’s still in the habit of sucking her thumb at night, so you gently remove it, and put one of her favorite stuffies in her arms. And that marks the end of your daily duties, so in theory you should be able to finally fall asleep and be done with this day.
In theory.
In actuality you creep out of the bed you share with your daughter into the single bathroom of the apartment. Usually her steady breathing tends to be enough to get you to fall asleep, it’s been that way ever since she was a baby, but you’re left feeling agitated having had to think of Him more than usual today.
Not just because of the song on the radio, but Rosie’s outburst reminded you far too much of her father. It feels like the worst injustice that she mimics someone who isn’t even here.
Now that ain’t my fault now is it darlin’? A familiar voice whispers in your mind. You feel a shudder run down your spine at the thought of him, not to mention the way you shamefully feel yourself pool within your underwear. You slide down the bathroom door, out of sight of the mirror, as though that will prevent you from facing what you’re about to do. You even close your eyes for good measure as your hand reaches your folds and your fingers caress the slick outer lips of your pussy.
You had tried to ignore this part of yourself for so long. You justified it during your pregnancy, as your body had been making you want to do other stupid things like sleep right in the middle of the store or eat paint chips. Even after giving birth and your inner feelings remaining unchanged, you justified it by thinking you were just particularly lonely, and for all that he kept you isolated, you were never alone when you were with him. Or that he was the only man you ever knew that way so he’s all you had to go off of in order to satisfy these urges.
For as much as your mind curses Him for ever coming into your life, even after all these years, your body has yet to catch up.
You’re far from unique in your desire for him, but it’s especially shameful for you as you know what he’s truly like. It’s like scratching a mosquito bite, you may know that it’ll just make the itching worse, but dear god did it feel good in the moment.
But even that is far from an accurate description as you plunge your on fingers into your sopping channel in a poor imitation of what you remember.
You bite your lip in an effort to keep noises at bay but it just makes you concentrate on the wet squelching sounds echoing through the bathroom as you plunge your fingers into yourself. The sharp sting of pain forcing your mind back to where you experience the most of it.
“You’re so sweet darlin’,” he purrs, his jaw glistening from your juices having just made a feast of you for the past hour or so. He had made it a game to see how close he could bring you without actually letting you cum, something he tends to do when someone looks your way for a little too long, as though he means to re-establish his claim over you. That only he can give you pleasure like this but take it away on a whim if he chooses.
“No more…” you beg, new tears forming and following the trail previously set, your lips undoubtedly bruised from how much you have been chewing on them throughout. “Please,” your thighs aching from the death grip he has them in, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you to feel in the morning.
“Alright,” he says seemingly conceding. But before you can breathe a sigh of relief, he continues, “we’ll switch it up for tonight.”
He flips you over to your front, spreads your legs wide open again, and dives right back in.
You can’t help the way you’re left trembling from the memory, but what does shake you somewhat is the when you realize that it’s not simply the ghost of the memory that is making you feel that bruising pressure on your inner thigh, but in fact your own hand keeping it there.
Still the masochist within you that yearns for the ghost of a man you once thought you knew takes a hold and refuses to let go now that you’re so close to release. So you give in and continue your frantic movements biting down hard on your lip to prevent any errant cries from leaving, and grip onto your thigh for dear life, even now trying to deny yourself that you want him here with you.
As you’re coming down from your high, you fight back your tears of shame. Trying to remind yourself why you left in the first place. How for all the moments he made you feel amazing, they weren’t worth the amount of grief he caused you on a near day-to-day basis.
Grief he’s still causing you more like it.
You don’t think you could have written a better love story in the beginning. You met him when your eyes locked on each other from across your favorite bookstore back in Memphis. He had oh so shyly approached you and asked what you were reading, a bit starry eyed as he listened. Back then and arguably still the concept of a man listening to you was such a novel and unique thing to experience.
It progressed from there, hand-holding in the school hallway, shared milkshakes at the local diner, and Sunday dinners with his family. Of course there were the less than wholesome aspects of your relationship of stray hands when no one was looking and heated kisses after a particularly rousing performance.
Truly the hallmarks of the greatest love story the world had ever seen.
If only you knew how wrong a love story can go, because your story went very wrong.
You vividly remember your first time with him.
Undoubtedly the cruelest thing he ever did to you.
You were never supposed to find out about the other girls, well that’s not true. The newspapers sure knew about them but he had convinced you that it was all nonsense and that he would never do that to you. All of his friends knew, hell even some of their girlfriends knew, but ideally you were never supposed to find out.
But the only chink in the armor was that there was in fact someone who had wanted you out as soon as he stepped in. Fact of the matter is that he was practically giddy as he told you what your fiance had been doing on the road up until that point. You were heartbroken and humiliated as to what he did and even more so when you learned he had been gearing up to break up with you the night he proposed, but only stopped when he realized that you wouldn’t be waiting for him, once his career settled.
He had been calling your house non-stop and sending his friends over all with the mission to coax you into talking to him. Worse still he even got your own friends in on it and now you can’t have a single conversation with any of them that doesn’t turn into them telling you how sorry he feels for hurting you and how he desperately wants you back.
The only people, aside from his manager, that were happy at this development were your parents. They had liked him up until he started to really take off in his career, and they wanted none of the controversy, especially when it came to your squeaky clean, good girl image they had for you.
They’ve been walking around with the smuggest “I told you so” looks ever since you announced that you were done with him. If only they knew their good girl had been sneaking in her boyfriend for the past three years and had a whole routine for doing so.
But the downside to this is that He was just as aware of the routine as you were. And despite it having been awhile he evidently remembered enough as he stood outside your window, right after all the lights in your house had gone out.
“Get outta here,” you hiss at him, opening the window just a crack. “You’re gonna wake up my parents.”
“Baby I gotta talk to you,” he pleads, his face utterly heartbroken. Guilt eats at you, knowing how there were days you wished you could go back to not knowing at all. But then you get angry at not only him but yourself for these thoughts.
If only all of your love for him had died the moment you found out, you would’ve had the strength to shut the window on him that night, and your life probably would’ve taken a very different course.
But no, you’re hurt and you felt that you had to have the final word. “Talk to one a your other girls,” you say as you move to close your window but he beats you to it and ends up opening it wider, allowing for him to fully step into your space.
“Get out,” you say severely. “Get out, or I’ll scream.”
“Darlin’, please listen,” he begs.
“Don’tchu ‘baby’ ‘darlin’ me,” you whisper-yell.
“I swear things’ll be different this time round,” he pleads, clasping his hands in yours.
“I’m done with your nonsense, I want you outta my house and outta my life.” tears are already streaming down your face and you make no motion to wipe them away. If he’s gonna hurt you like this he deserves to know.
He looks at you. Truly looks at you and sees that you’re dead serious about this, that for you there is no coming back from this.
“Okay,” he says solemnly, looking down at you more defeated than you’ve ever seen him, unfelled tears doting his eyes, and his bottom lip trembling.
That takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it. “Good,” you say, trying to stamp down the urge to be mad that he’s not fighting harder. There is a hurricane of emotions going through your entire being, hating him and loving him at the same time, but you recognize that you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being able to sort through said emotions while he’s here.
“But…”
“But?” you say, confused as to what more there is to say.
“Let me have you,” he begs breathlessly, stepping closer to you, boxing you into the wall behind you. “Just for tonight,” he clarifies as though that’s gonna make it better.
That offends you but you can’t afford to raise your voice so you hiss at him that it’s not as though you didn’t offer when he was here. “I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for bein’ so stupid and steppin’ out on you, I-I thought I had more time, tha-that we’d got the rest of our lives together,” he says his voice painfully small, and his eyes pleading with you to agree.
Your heart swells hearing his words, pleading with your brain to forgive him seeing how much pain the thought of never being with you again is causing the both of you. Another, unmentionable part is also hounding your brain to accept his offer if only for the fact that you had wanted this yourself for so long.
“If-If I do that…” you say in a low voice, your face burning as to what the both of you want but aren’t saying aloud. “Then you’ll leave and never come back?” though even as you say that you’re not exactly sure how you feel over that prospect.
“Just one night sweetheart,” he begs, giving you a quick desperate kiss to your lips. “One night to know what a life with you could’ve been like, and I’ll be outta yer hair forever,” he says with a quick peck to your lips.
He makes it almost sound romantic, not like he’s quite literally backing you into a corner, and coaxing you into something you’re not sure you want just so that you would finally know peace from him. But that's far from your mind as that little bit of contact does something to you and it’s like opening the floodgates for all the feelings for him you’ve been trying to bury.
It feels like you're transported to almost a year ago when, he would sneak his way back into your room after having said his goodbyes to your family and parking his car around the corner out of view. How you both move your blankets and pillows onto the floor to avoid the creaky springs of your mattress, how you both keep your voices low, and muffle most sounds with the pillows, how he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before slowly undressing you, your body being treated like a present to unwrap.
Like this it’s easy to forget what he did, easy to forget the pain he’s caused when he’s treating you so sweetly. Kissing every inch of skin, nipping at your sensitive skin every so often, before laving at the bruising area with his tongue. You bite down on your lip hard, willing yourself to keep a cap on the filthy moans and declarations of love alike.
You had done things with him before but it had never felt quite like this. He had always been insistent that you wait until the wedding night for that, wanting to savor you and all you had to offer before the time came. Which made it feel all the worse when you did find out about those other girls. Your friends had tried to justify it by saying that he was just getting in some “practice” for you, but that hardly made it feel any better.
But the way he touches you, so sure of his newfound skills, it’s almost easy to forgive him. He treats you almost deceptively sweet, and for as hard as you try to keep yourself quiet, you admittedly don’t do a great job at it. But you manage to keep a good enough lid on yourself. But as it goes on it feels like he himself forgets that he had to do the same, as moans and groans alike continue to escape from his mouth.
That should’ve been your first clue that he was up to something, but by then as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper into you, you can’t focus on much else. Had you been thinking straight you would remember he arguably has better control of himself than you do, as he often would tease you over it.
But in the moment that’s not what you’re thinking about. All you had on your brain was him, and how good and right he felt.
If you could go back in time you think you would’ve strangled your younger, far more naive self, as now in retrospect it became clear what he was planning on doing. He had no qualms to exposing what you had done already with him if it meant merely getting a chance to talk to you, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to go full scorched earth if given the chance.
He continues his steady rhythm, and when he whispers in your ear, “It’s only ever gonna be you, darlin’,” you find yourself letting out a silent scream. Your eyes screwed shut, so lost in the pleasure of it all, you would only get the tail-end of the disdainful look he would give upon failing to get you to crack.
Still you vividly remember how conflicted you did feel in the moment, how for all that it felt good, it also made your stomach turn, for all the hurt he’s caused you yet how deceptively sweet he could be to you. It just gave you a serious case of whiplash.
But you were so focused on keeping as quiet as possible not even being able to fathom the heap of trouble you would be in should your parents ever find out. You could hardly fathom the agent of your destruction laid within you, but it wasn’t until it was too late did it truly click.
That devious look he had in his eyes, the one that spoke nothing but trouble. The very same look that seemingly first trapped you all those years ago when you caught it staring at you from across the bookstore. He picked up his rhythm, not allowing for you to fully recover, from the last time, as he pistons into you seeking out release for himself.
You were so dizzy in that moment you didn’t register how he raised his hand onto your night table, before quickly slamming it three times into the wall.
The very wall you shared with your parents.
Even in the moment you didn’t fully recognize what he had just done, everything sort of blurring together. Before you can even hope to get your bearings, he’s spinning the both of you around so that you now were on top of him, his fingers digging bruises into your hips, as he thrusts back up into you, no longer trying to feign tenderness, as he seems to rip another climax from you as he lets an unrestrained groan fall from his lips, while your inner walls tighten around him.
Even in your haze, you realize that this is bad, and you manage to gather yourself enough to slap your hand over his mouth, but that does little to muffle the singer. Especially as it seems as though he's hellbent to be heard. “What did you just do?” you ask unbelieving, frozen in fear even as you hear the muffled shouts of your father through the wall. You feel underneath your palm as his mouth curls into a grin, as he shudders and you feel his hot seed burn you from within. And that’s when you hear the powerful footfalls of your father burst out of his room before he slams open your bedroom door.
You can only imagine the image you make at that moment, naked sitting astride the nearly fully clothed boy you had sworn up and down for weeks you were done for good with. “What in the hell is going on in here!” your father shouts at the top of his lungs.
Everything after that happens in a blur of your fathers harsh shouts and the sharp sting that comes from your mothers hand across your face as she calls you a whore. By the time it’s all said and done you’re on your knees at the front door begging them to let you back into the house.
“Take her with you,” your daddy practically spat at him as he tossed you to your knees outside of what was once your home. “I didn’t raise no whores, and you seem to now be in the business a collectin’ them.”
You can almost hear the sound of a rattlesnake as his arm coils around your shoulder, laying his jacket over your weeping form like a gentleman. “Don’tchu worry baby,” he whispers in your ear.
He’s almost angelic in his appearance, playing the savior role well, having escaped your home relatively unscathed and in remarkably high-spirits for the situation. But you don’t have much of a choice in the moment, remembering Gina’s words of how easily this family will toss aside wayward women, but it never truly sunk in that you were liable to become one.
He would tell everybody that your daddy had thrown you out after asserting that you still wanted to be with Him in spite of all of that he’s done, and your folks practically disowned you for it. You let him say what he wants because you don’t see a point in telling the truth and if you’re being honest, part of you wants to believe it. It was a far more romantic story than what had actually happened.
As you’re coming down from your second and somehow less satisfying orgasm, does the guilt start to creep in. Even after all these years you still yearn for his touch.
But that is so much easier to admit than the alternative of missing Him.
It eats at you that you still think of Him like this after all that he did to you, and worse still it’s almost like you want him to come back.
Your heart practically leaps out your chest when you hear a soft knock at the door and for one horrifying second you think you’ve somehow summoned him to you.
“Mama…” you hear a small voice whimper behind the locked door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Mama, I threw up.”
You don’t know if it’s a consolidation of three different people telling you the same thing in one day, the culmination of your late night loneliness for the past four or so years, or the noxious fumes of the truly unholy combination of stomach acid, red beans, and Jelly Beans that you had to clean up in your sleep deprived state, but you come to the conclusion that you can no longer do this by yourself.
Being a mother tended to be enough of a deterrent to most men in the city, which didn’t bother you one bit, but it did make you feel all the worse when you did meet the few who were still willing even after learning about Rosie.
Sam or Lou may very well have been as nice and understanding as they seemed to be, but because of Him, you now look suspiciously at every man trying to get close.
Perhaps the women in your life were onto something and it is about time for you to move on with your life. Because if you resolve yourself to being for all intents and purposes a shut-in who never knew another man’s touch other than His, then you ran for nothing.
So it’s with a semi-defeated sigh that you tell Jenny the next morning to send over Lee’s friend to the shop while you’re working to “see how it goes.”
You do admittedly put a little more effort into your appearance than you would on an average day and you perk up every time a man who looked close to your age walked in. But if any of them were sent by Jenny they didn’t mention it.
You only ever had one boyfriend when you were a teen, so it feels more than a bit intimidating to go into this, but you can’t deny yourself a life anymore.
Afterall if you don’t then you may as well have stayed in Memphis.
The day goes by and of the few men that do enter the shop, of the few that seem interested in you, none of them knew who Jenny was.
It’s well past closing and feeling both tired and rejected, however the bane of your existence you call Jenny has yet to return, so you instead just flip the sign without properly locking up and hope they’ll be back soon. This isn’t necessarily unusual but you’re just eager for this day to end and hope that a nice cuddle with your daughter will be enough to lift your spirits.
But for now there are books that need to be out back.
Soon you finally hear the shop bell ring, but instead of the comforting tiny footsteps or the recognizable clack of Jenny’s heels, you instead hear an unfamiliar pattern of heavy footsteps over the low volume of the radio. You look between the shelves from where you’re stocking books in the back and while you can’t make out specific details you see what is undoubtedly the shape of a man standing at the counter.
“I’m sorry Sir,” you announce still from behind the shelf. “We’re closed for the evening, but please feel free to return tomorrow.”
“Oh I ain’t going anywhere sweetheart,” a voice drawls.
A voice you would recognize anywhere.
You think you begin to understand at that moment why some animals will chew off their own arms to escape a trap. After all, what is a limb or two in the face of inevitable doom? And even when they do eventually die, they will at least go with their head held high knowing that they did all that they could, because better dead than captured.
But you stand there frozen, barely capable of breathing at a steady rate. You feel like every drop of blood has been drained from your body. Like someone reached into your lungs and snatched the air right out of them. Like your bones have lost all integrity and you’re only kept standing by the mere fact you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
He is here.
Elvis is here.
Not only that but the footsteps getting louder tell you he is getting closer.
Fuck.
Your mind is going a million miles an hour to try to get out of this, but all of them fall flat when you remember your daughter is not here and if you were to run that would just leave her in his clutches. So rather than act on any plan, you walk out from behind the bookshelf, because there is no point fighting the inevitable.
You’re hoping your look isn’t so much deer in the headlights and more awestruck and in disbelief that he found you. Which is true to some extent as you thought you had been so careful all these years, so all you can muster out when you see him for the first time is a pathetic little “h-how?”
Your hackles raise slightly as you see him reach behind him, and to your surprise he pulls out an old battered copy of Nancy Drew. You’re so confused for a second until you recognize it as yours.
One of the many that Gina would send you periodically when you lived with your parents.
One of the many that had the name of this very store stamped to the inner cover.
One of the many you took with you when you were kicked out.
One of the many left behind at Graceland.
Fuck.
You want to kick yourself both for being so careless in your haste to leave, but you have no time for that as he says, “I ain’t as smart as you baby, but I figured out your breadcrumbs eventually.”
He thinks you wanted him to find you.
Didn’tchu though?
“E-Elvis…” you whisper, the single name somehow feeling wrong as it comes out of your mouth. You’ve avoided even thinking about it all these years, as though if you try hard enough you’ll be able to purge him from your mind and thus from your life. As though simply uttering it will somehow summon him.
That theory isn’t disproven as he, as usual, wastes no time in getting straight to what he came here for, his long legs carrying himself to you as he moves to engulf you within his arms. You stave off the immediate instinct of putting your hands up and allow this to happen, remembering what used to happen when you would deny him.
He even goes so far as to spin you around, and you lose your footing and have to rely on him in order to not face plant onto the floor. But this works all the better to create the image of the long-lost lovers joyfully reuniting after so long.
But as he gazes into your eyes, it isn’t fully complete until he leans down to capture your lips. You would like to say you had to force yourself not to flinch away, but even you would know you’re not that good of a liar.
It’s a kiss for the ages truly, both all-consuming and yet leaving you longing for more. The pitfall of having denied getting close to anyone these past few years now show themselves full-force as you on instinct lean full-force into his touch, and welcome his kiss, even fully knowing how precarious your situation is.
All these years you never could’ve imagined how much you could miss touch- how much you could miss his touch. The kiss itself isn’t even broken until he roughly moves you against the bookshelf and forces his thigh between yours and your left gasping for air as you feel him for the first time.
And you can’t help the little whine that leaves your lips before you gather yourself once more to look him in the eyes.
“Did’ya miss me sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips.
“I…” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ve thought about you every night.”
This is not a lie.
His fond expression doesn’t crack an inch as you say that, but before you can sigh an internal breath of relief, you feel a tight grip on your wrist as well as on your jaw.
“Then where’ve you been all these years,” he says, low and dangerous.
It’s certainly not an unfair question to ask. But you’ve been prepared to answer this question since the moment you stepped foot outside of Graceland for a quick errand.
You don’t know what he knows yet, and that’s terrifying.
“I…I…” you say in a quiet voice, all your years of preparation failing you when you needed it the most.
In the back of your mind, though you are loath to admit it, you think you always knew this day was coming, that he would find you, and the only thing you could do was to try to lessen the blowback you would experience. It’s why yours and your daughter’s last name is Love. It’s why you never tried to get involved with another man. It’s why you even made that goddamn deal in the first place.
“I’m going to disappear,” you say, casually taking a sip of your tea, not truly a fan of the taste, but lately it’s been one of the few things your sensitive stomach could handle. “And you’re gonna help me do that.” You couldn’t just ask anyone for help on this, you were surrounded only by sychophants who would do practically anything for Elvis, so you had to look elsewhere to the person whose only side he was on, was his own.
“And why would I help you?” The Colonel said, idly stirring his coffee, but obviously trying to mask the spark of interest in his eyes. For as much of a slimeball as he can be, you would be a fool to not acknowledge that he’s a decent enough businessman at the end of the day to recognize a good deal when he sees one.
“Because you want me gone as much as I wanna be gone,” you state. He hated that Elvis kept you around, even more so when Elvis made it clear he had no intention of staying a bachelor once he finished service.
Truly under any other circumstance he would be the last person in this house you would confide in, but though your desires were very different they did often run parallel. Something you realized when he talked Elvis out of eloping right before he got shipped out and into a long engagement. Truly the greatest boon you’ve been given since you’ve gotten here, the lack of recognizability or association with the rockstar will serve your purposes all the better.
“Can’t argue with that logic girl,” he says, taking a bite out of the muffins you had baked this morning as a peace offering to him. “Why do you even need my help?” he questions.
“Because I need someone to make sure that he doesn’t ever find me,” you declare, you had practiced this in your head so many times, too afraid to ever voice it aloud or write it down should any of it get back to him. Even an Ocean away you still feel his breath on the back of your neck, with the only safe place being inside your head.
You had excused yourself from following him to Germany by feigning sickness with the promise that you would join him as soon as you felt better. Which wasn’t hard to do considering your symptoms before he left, left you practically bedridden.
Ever since you figured out your… condition (it felt too scary to even think in your head, let alone voice out loud), your mind had been running rampant with all of the possibilities of how he would react. None of which you're willing to risk coming to fruition.
“And if I said No?” he asks, but from the look in his eyes he’s all but ready to pack your bags himself. Part of you feels guilty to leave the boy you once loved with such a man, but you have bigger things to worry about now.
“You’re absolutely free to say no, Parker,” you assure, but he’s savvy enough to know that’s not the end of it. You don’t know whether it’s you mimicking the late Gladys Presley, or something that comes natural with becoming a mother, however you do know you need to assert yourself now of all times, not just for your sake but your baby’s. “Regardless of your help or not, I’m gonna to leave. Now whether I’m gone for twenty minutes or twenty years, will all depend on you, but know that this will also determine how long you’ll be able to keep your position as Manager.��
He seems to bristle at your words, “And how do you figure dat Lil’ Miss?” he says with a dangerous look in his eyes as you seem to threaten the only thing he happens to care about. But once you do explain it he looks at you with no small amount of respect in his eyes as he mulls over your plan. “Quite devious,” he comments, literally tipping his hat at you. “I think I’m beginnin’ to get what he sees in you.”
You're far from proud of your plan, and the slimeball’s admiration of it doesn’t help either, but you know for a fact it will work, and Parker is gonna make damn sure that he doesn’t ever find you.
You made that plan practically bulletproof, but you never factored into account that you would choke in the moment that it truly matters. “Elvis I…” you trail off, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, clutching your hands on his shirt to keep yourself somewhat steady, trembling from the effort it takes to maintain that makeshift barrier. You’re either about to give the performance of a lifetime or… or…
No
You can’t think like that otherwise…
This has to work.
Your brain is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind yourself that you have to make this work if you have any hope of getting out of this without him ever having a chance of finding her.
But in real time you watch as this notion turns to ash in your mouth.
You feel as your blood freezes in your veins when you hear the door slam open only to be followed by the familiar little dashing footsteps. Your heart drops into your stomach as you hear your daughter stop dead in her tracks and you want to throw up at the thought of him laying eyes on her. This is truly what all your nightmares have been building up to, but even they paled in comparison to the reality of what would actually happen.
“Danny!!!” she squeals at the top of her lungs, before sprinting right into the arms of the man you were so desperately running from. You’re too shocked to do anything about it at the moment, and only watch in horror as something beyond your worst nightmare plays out before your very eyes.
Even when your instincts kick in to keep her away from him, he casually moves your hands out of the way as he easily scoops her up and over his head, practically playing keep away as you try to take her back. “Is today the day!?!?” she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she could, giving him a kiss on the cheek, none the wiser at the danger the two of you were in.
“It sure is baby girl,” he says with a mile wide grin on his face. “Why don’tcha go pack everything you’re gonna need in Neverland?” You don’t miss the way his eyes slide your way, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction.
She squeals in delight, as she jumps out of his arms and makes her way to the stairs, completely oblivious to your state.
Everything your daughter ever said about “Danny” suddenly makes a whole lot more sense, and you can’t help but want to kick yourself for not paying attention. You thought she was safe with Jenny, you want to throw up at the thought that you unintentionally sent her into the lion's den without her.
She doesn’t even have the decency to face you in that moment, seeing her right outside the window, in Lee’s arms -or Charlie as you would later learn- pointedly not looking in.
You don’t have the luxury of being mad as you feel his attention focus back on you in that moment.
“Now…,” he says as he brings your face closer to his, tenderly grabbing your chin, wiping away a tear. “You wanna try again, sweetheart,” he grins maliciously, knowing you’ll have no choice but to be “honest.”
And that’s it you have only one card left to play and you pray whatever forces that have written the story of your life will be merciful and let this plan work as you hoped it would all those years ago.
You fall to your knees and begin to sob uncontrollably into your palms. It’s actually easier than you had initially hoped, it in fact takes more effort not to cry when you think about him. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to stay this intelligible up to this point.
“Elvis,” you cry, trying to sound as pathetic and heartbroken as you possibly could. “Elvis I-I-I’m so sorry,” you stutter trying to really sell it. “He-he told me that you kn-knew and you didn’t want me anymore,” you hiccup for good measure. “Ho-how you couldn’t have a baby weighing you down, and that-that if I ever came back, he would make sure I would lose her for good.”
You start to hyperventilate, but it’s far from intentional, as you know your very life is at stake in this moment. If he doesn’t believe you… you can’t think like that.
You know him well enough to know that he won’t believe your words specifically, but he does believe in the world he’s created in his head. That regardless of what you feel, what you say, or even what you do, you love him and want to be with him- always. It’s just others preventing that from happening. It was the women who tempted him on the road, and then it was your family speaking poison in your ear, and then it was the men he couldn’t trust to not look your way. It was never you personally, regardless of how he would sometimes lash out at you, you wanted to be there because he wanted you to be there.
In the back of your mind when you had just barely begun to formulate leaving, you knew it would be foolish to believe there wasn’t a chance, no matter how slim, that he would find you. And you knew that it wouldn’t go without punishment should he ever find you should it ever occur. So you had to formulate a plan not just to leave, but how best to set yourself up if he ever returned.
(There have been some nights that you lay awake believing that you prepared so well not because you were paranoid, but because it was an inevitability.)
You hear his clothes shift as he kneels down before you, and he takes your chin into his hand though much gentler this time.
“Who’s ‘he’” he demands, voice as cold as a tomb.
He’s buying it, you think, though you have no time to celebrate. You let out a truly pathetic little blubber through your tears, purposefully unintelligible trying to sell the emotions.
“Who?” he asks, softer this time around, but no less urgent.
“The co-” you cut yourself off taking a deep steady breath. “The Colonel,” you whisper as though you fear speaking his name aloud will bring him to this very spot.
Parker’s far from innocent but you feel a slight twinge of guilt that his downfall would be for something he didn’t do as opposed to all the things he had done. But you can’t think like that anymore, it was gonna be either him or you.
Someone would need to suffer because of what you did, and you would be damned before it was you or your daughter.
And so Parker is now the villain who cruelly kept you and your daughter away from him, and not that you wanted so desperately to get away from him that you practically disappeared off the face of the Earth. But it seems like a fair trade. Parker loses his job, you lose your life. Maybe not in the literal sense, but in all the ways that matter you’ll be gone.
You don’t relax at all when you feel him gently cup your face in his hands to softly wipe your tears away. You look upon the devastatingly handsome man, as he looks as if he means to take you in his arms to never let you go.“Don’tchu worry baby,” he says, wiping your tears away. “You don’t gotta worry bout that rat bastard no more.” You let out a small cry, hoping it sounds more out of relief than out of devastation to his words. “So now you and Rosie can come home,” he states with a delusional smile on his face.
Despite the fact that you knew this would realistically end one of two ways, you can’t help but balk at the words. You try your best to smile at his words, but even you realize how hollow that gesture is, in spite of the part you know you’re meant to play in the moment, between the two of you, only one of you is an actor.
He’s having none of it as you feel the previously gentle hand cupping your face wrap around your throat. “Now. You. And. Rosie. Can. Come. Home.” he grits out, his grip around your neck tightening with each word emphasized.
He knows what your answer is, no doubt he’s just trying to rub salt in the wound knowing that it’s not a choice he’s giving you. This is all the proof you need that he doesn’t fully believe you, but is willing to play along. Leaving may have been forgivable, staying away for so long is another matter entirely.
He’s just punishing you for not being as enthusiastic as you should be at the prospect of coming “home,” as you should be.
You’re not playing pretend well enough.
“Mama!” Rosie squeals excitedly and when he lets go, you turn to see her making her way back downstairs, her favorite blanket now a makeshift rucksack of what you assume to be all toys dragging behind her. “Mama it worked!” she said, as she ran full tilt toward you, holding something in her palm. “Danny’s gonna take us to Neverland today.”
You see the little porcelain baby from the king cake and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else. But you know better than to believe in wishes.
“Can we go now?” she says, her little hand grasping one of Elvis’ fingers and shaking furiously. “Now please,” she begs, before he scoops her up into his arms and propping her on his hip. He holds her close and you're forced to face what you have been ignoring all these years. The shape of the nose, the way her lips curl in such a specific way, there is only one place she could have gotten all of that from. It feels like just your luck that your child would be practically a carbon copy of the man you so desperately tried to get away from. Really it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.
“Now hold ya’ horses yittle,” chucking her under the chin in a far too familiar manner, as she giggles in his arms. “Yer mama’s gotta get ready herself.”
“I… do…” you say, playing along, trying to keep a cap on your distress for your daughter's sake. “I-I gotta pack a few more things baby,” you say, giving her a kiss on her forehead, hoping she misses the tears in your eyes. “I’ll b-be right back.” you manage to stutter out.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” his voice so saccharine sweet it makes our teeth ache. “We’ll be right here.”
As you turn around you feel a hard smack on your ass, and you fully stop, burning in humiliation that he would treat you like that, especially in front of your daughter.
The humiliation only further ramps up as you walk up the stairs, and you can feel the slick already gathering between your thighs. Less out of titillation you believe and more out of a defense mechanism, knowing what will more than likely happen the second he's able to get you alone.
Or is it?
It doesn’t feel real as you step into the upstairs apartment, you see Gina at the stove and Sue filling out a crossword puzzle, her glasses threatening to fall off her nose, none of which suggests they have any idea of what’s going on downstairs. You’re almost angry about that, like it would’ve been easier to walk away from them if they had also been in on it as well.
“Where’s Rosie so eager to rush off to?” Sue asks idly, not looking up from the paper.
“Oh ummm…” you say, trying to think on your feet for a decent enough lie. “ Sh-she’s going to a sleepover with-with Jenny.”
You’re usually a better liar than this, but him being so close again has you all out of sorts tonight. Not to mention your mind is running rampant with all the worst case scenarios possible at the moment with the most egregious being that he’s gonna take her and run, forcing you to chase him down the same way he’s undoubtedly done for you these past few years. You’re practically feeling every second tick by, fearing the longer you take the greater the chances will be that they’re both gone.
Is that how he felt when he was away from you? A small voice in your head asks. It’s an awful roiling feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if the person you loved most wasn’t where you left them. Would he be so cruel to do that to you?
“Did that fella Jenny setchu up with ever show up?” Gina asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Ye-yeah and… and I’m gonna get dinner with him,” you swallow, the lie tasting like bile in your mouth. As you turn to your room, already mentally mapping where the important documents were in your bedroom, preparing to pack a few outfits for Rosie, and whatever other odds and ends you would need.
Your answer catches Gina off guard, and Sue immediately looks up from the paper sharing a look with your other Aunt. “Ain’t that a little fast, Hon?”
“Maybe…” you say, hesitating as you try to hold back your tears.
“Ya don’t gotta go if you ain’t ready for it,” Sue says behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, that you flinch away from. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong If it’s still a little too early for you.”
That’s the worst part about it. You know they would fight tooth and nail for both you and Rosie if you just asked. But you know the type of mess Elvis can and will bring into this house should you decide to fight him on this. After all they’ve done for you, keeping them out of the type of spectacle he brings is the least you can do.
“I have to go,” you say sternly.
One look at your squared back shoulders and your far away look they know there’s no stopping this. You hold back your tears as you accept their hug and accept their well wishes. You say your goodbyes promising to be back soon, unsure if you will ever see them again, and you put on your biggest fakest smile as you let go of them, wanting to at least leave them with one happy memory.
Relief floods your entire being seeing her at the bottom of the steps, only for the dread to return seeing him there with her. Especially when you hear the story he’s telling her. You don’t miss the glance he steals your way before focusing on your daughter once again. “I thought to myself, ‘thas the girl whose gonna be mine.’”
“Like-like love at first sight,” Rosie asks, and you can practically hear the stars in her eyes.
“Exactly yittle,” he drawls out. “Took her awhile to figure it out though but she learned eventually. Now we’re all gonna go home.” His eyes slide right off her and cut directly to you. Her eyes follow him and she quickly scurries off of him to reach you.
“You ready Mama?” she asks you as she takes you by the hand leading you to the door where you see a car parked right out front. It may as well have been a hearse in your mind.
You pick her up and you look down the darkened streets and you briefly flirt with the idea of just sprinting and never looking back. But the hand on your elbow guiding you to the car puts a halt to those thoughts.
You still don’t know how much of your story he does actually believe, so you sit yourself down in the car without so much as a fuss and resolve yourself to your fate. Though that doesn’t stop you from seating yourself in the middle and placing Rosie by the window, as you still aren’t totally out of the mindset of keeping her as far away from him as possible. Neither of them seem to mind as she eagerly presses tiny hands up to the glass in awe of the nightlife of New Orleans, while he slithers an arm over your shoulder bringing you closer to him.
As you contemplate what your life will look like from now on, you pass by so many places you’ve become familiar with these last four years, but what nearly breaks you are the unfamiliar places. Record stores, movie theaters, restaurants, and so many other places you avoided all due to an irrational belief that he would somehow be there. You did your best to limit your time in the outside world to only when you absolutely had to be out.
Maybe that’s why you were so willing to trust Jenny and her altruistic generosity to watch over your daughter and take her places you were too anxious to venture to.
You caged yourself into your new seemingly better life, but you didn't live at all. You were hiding. Always so afraid that he would somehow find you, you neglected to live. You put yourself in a different cage and convinced yourself you were free.
“Mama? Mama, why are you crying?” your sweet little girl asks.
But you’re gonna do what you’ve always done for your daughter. What you’ve always done when it comes to Elvis. You’re going to play pretend.
“Mama’s just so happy we’re going baby,” you say with a solemn kiss to her forehead as his grip further tightens on your shoulder.
“I know what’ll cheer you up!” she declares and completely unaware of the salt she’s about to pour on your wounds, she pulls something out of her little rucksack. “Danny, do you know the story of ‘Punzel?”
“Can’t say that I do darlin’” he says, eyeing you over her head. She sets the Grimm fairy tale book down on her lap and opens it to the worn pages she’s seemed to memorize by heart. She proceeds to read to the both of you, in the sense that she recites the story she’s heard maybe half-a-million times before word-for-word, going off pictures more than the actual words on the page to know where she’s at in the story. You try your best to focus on the book for your daughter's sake, but it’s nearly impossible to do when you feel Elvis' familiar bruising grip on your inner thigh.
You shoot him a look and grab a hold of his wandering hand, trying to signal for him to stop and pay attention to Rosie. He gives a mirthful smile to you as he feels the slick there and seemingly tightens his grip in retribution, as though he wants to get a head start on re-establishing his claim over you. You in response bite your cheek and bear it, until at one point it nearly becomes too much and one lone tear rolls down your cheek and onto the page of the prince wandering blindly through the forest.
Your daughter is far too sweet for her own good, as she notices this and gives you a gentle pat on your cheek, trying to comfort you the same you’ve done for her before.
“Don’t worry Mama,” she reassures you, mirroring what you’ve done for her when a story gets her a little too worked up. “They always live happy ever after.”
You give a shuddering sigh as Elvis finally let’s go of your thigh. You clutch onto that little porcelain figure in your pocket and hope she’s right.
You make it to Memphis in record time, Rosie having long since tired herself out, is wrapped securely in your arms, but you’ll find no suh peace with his arm coiled around your shoulder as he sadistically whispers how Rosie’ll have a blast meeting the rest of his family while the two of you get “reacquainted,” of course he used more colorful language but you don’t want to have to think about that for right now.
When the familiar gates come into view
“Ahh, my baby missed home that bad,” he whispers, giving a deceptively sweet kiss to your tear-stricken cheek. “Why don’tcha hand the ‘lil one over to me and you just head up to bed and get ready for me?”
Despite the questioning lilt in his tone you know for a fact he’s not asking. And so going against all of your instincts screaming in your head, you let go of your daughter and watch as he takes a hold of her. To your relief she’s at the very least on the same floor as you, but you can only hope that she, at the very least, will sleep through the rest of the night, because you doubt he’ll let you out even a minute sooner than he has to.
The bedroom has changed in many ways since you’ve been gone, though the most striking thing was how your side of the bed looks as though it were converted into a little shrine for you. Small baubles and trinkets you left behind on the stand, you even find an old nightgown of yours on your side of the bed, the last thing he ever saw you in. It doesn’t fit you like it used to, having and breastfeeding a baby will do that to you, but you put it on all the same knowing he will want to see you in it.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing your breasts straining against the silk material and the bruises peeking out beneath the scandalously short hemline, it really does settle in that this was all inevitable. This is the very same image you saw the night before he left for Germany.
The same image that confirmed your decision to leave in the first place.
This moment, feels like the dread you always felt when getting to the last few pages of a book. As things were wrapping up and you would have to face the harsh reality of your situation...
You’re back in the fucking hotel room.
You won’t even have the luxury of daydreaming of your escape, because there is no world where you leave without Rosie, and he knows that. He knows she’s the reason you ran, and knows that without her you’re never gonna run again. That’s why he went to the lengths he did to endear himself to her first before you ever had an inkling as to what was going on.
Your thoughts turn to Jenny, and how you entrusted what you loved the most to her, only to have her spit in your face by turning around practically handing her over to him on a platter. Either she knew that he was her father and didn’t bother to question why you were so desperate to get away that you faked a whole other life, or she didn’t and handed over your daughter to a stranger. You don’t know which is worse.
You also can’t forget how she was perhaps the most vehement about you dating again, which you can’t even begin to understand if she was working for him the whole time. But you can’t put it above him that he wouldn’t have Jenny push the issue if only to further twist the knife if you ever did take up her offer. As though to remind you that you never had a chance of moving on.
Because it always goes back to him.
You want to hide from it all and you give into the urge, and crawl under the silky sheets of the bed, for all the good it will do to protect you.
Monsters don’t hide under your bed. They crawl into it. Those are your last conscious thoughts as you feel the bed shift
“Welcome home Satnin,” he whispers before you feel the sheets being ripped away from you.
Taglist
@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale
@j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker @thatbanditqueen @softsatnin @literally-just-elvis-fics @adaydreamaway08 @airyx0x0 @domoron @artlover8992
#elvis#elvis 2022#elvis x reader#yandere!elvis x reader#austin!elvis#austin butler#yandere#yandere!elvis#yandere!austin!elvis#yandere x reader#elvis presley#elvis presley x reader#elvis movie#elvis presely smut#austin!elvis x reader#austin!elvis fic#austin butler x reader
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The World-Famous Annual Heffley Puppet Show [Rodrick Heffley x Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)
(~from the vault~)
Susan invites you to watch one of the Heffley's weird annual traditions, and you're expecting anything but this.
Word Count: 1,479
[...]
Dating Rodrick Heffley was… an experience. Not in a bad way at all, it was only that it could be… weird, for lack of a better word to describe it, at times. Like right now, for instance, when you were sitting in his living room while his parents told an extremely over-complicated story through… puppets.
You weren’t exactly sure how you'd gotten yourself into this situation. Okay, well, that was a lie, actually.
Susan had been incredibly persistent about you coming to the ‘World-Famous Annual Heffley Puppet Show’, as she made sure to announce extravagantly, adamant about you being present to witness the oh-so-great performance, and, despite Rodrick´s ridiculous attempts at making faces at you from behind her that quietly told you to not, in any occasion, agree to it, you just couldn’t get yourself to say no.
“Why would you say yes? You could have just said your grandma just died or something!” Rodrick questioned you, exhasperated.
“Dude! Don’t say that about my grandma!”
“Okay sorry. But you could’ve said absolutely anything! Anything!"
“I tried! She kept finding solutions! She even said she’d move the date up.”
“She said that?”
“Yeah. Why?"
“Shit. She’s never moved the date before. She really wants you to go.”
“Why is that?"
“No idea. I think she just really likes you."
“Why do you sound so shocked about that?”
“She’s never really liked any of the girls I went out with.”
“Okay, James Dean. You’ve gone out with like one girl before me when you were like sixteen.”
“Hey I got laid! Occasionally.”
“Ew."
“It’s true!”
“Yeah right.”
“Fine. I got laid twice. Happy?"
You shrugged, grinning at him as you poked fun at him some more.
"Well now that you said yes to her I guess we’re gonna have to go.”
“It can’t be that bad!”
It could. It definitely, 100%, without a doubt, could. The ‘performance’ had been going on for about half an hour now, and it didn’t look like it was heading towards an end any time soon. You were all sitting in chairs, which were lined up in front of the couch, your seat between Rodrick's and Greg's, with Rowley by Greg’s left and Manny by Rodrick’s right.
Okay, yeah, maybe this time you should have listened to Rodrick.
You really, really tried, but you could not, as much as you desperately wanted to, figure out the plot of the story Mr. and Mrs. Heffley were trying to tell. It had something to do with dragons and fried chicken and at some point you could swear there was a clown. How any of that tied up together was beyond you, and, as you could see, Rodrick and Greg too.
The only ones who seemed to be having any fun at all were Manny, who was standing up and clapping like crazy throughout the entire thing, probably props to the very questionable voices his parents were making for the ridiculous amount of different characters that seemed to progressively look worse in appearance as they showed up, and Rowley, who also didn’t seem to understand any of it, but looked entertained nonetheless, occasionally even shooting Greg a few comments, to which Greg just smiled and mumbled something incoherent under his breath in response.
You leaned over to Rodrick, who was wide-eyed at this point, looking borderline terrified at the scene that unfolded in front of him. “You said it was bad, not that it was gonna give me nightmares!” You whispered.
He looked genuinely embarrassed, and for Rodrick Heffley to be embarrassed of something, oh that was something. “I tried to warn you!”
“What are you guys talking about?” Greg whispered too, making himself a part of the conversation.
“Shut up dickhead,” Rodrick let out under his breath, to which Greg replied by sticking his tongue out at him, earning a middle finger in response. Oh, brothely love.
“Do you guys really have to go through this every year?”
They both nodded. “It’s like it gets more terrifying every year,” Greg commented, and you took a quick glance back at the couch, where Mr. and Mrs. Heflley were crouched behind. Apparently a pig who was wearing a bow tie was hunting down a rabbit for sweets now.
“Do you guys think they’d notice if we left?” Greg asked and you pondered on it. Then you had an idea.
You turned to face your boyfriend. “Okay look. You gotta be fast alright? And you can't let your mom be upset at me."
“What?” Rodrick questioned you, finally managing to look away from the trance the puppet show had kept his eyes in.
“When I say I gotta go you say you’re coming with me.”
He nodded, though he hadn't really gotten the gist of where you were going with that.
“Wait can I come?”
“No,” Rodrick promptly replied.
“Come on give him a break," you nudged his arm, to which he rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh.
“Fine. But only ‘cause she asked.”
Greg smiled, looking at you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Alright we gotta get out fast. Just grab Rowley with ya.”
Greg nodded in understandment.
“Hey Mrs. Heffley?” You spoke up.
The voices stopped. You were already grateful just for that moment of silence. Susan’s head appeared from behind the sofa. “Yes dear? Something wrong?”
“I'm really sorry, but um I really need to head home, I think.”
“Oh but we’re only halfway through-”
“I’ll take her home!” Rodrick exclaimed at lightspeed, yanking you by your wrist and sprinting towards the front door.
“We’ll come with!” Greg yelled too, doing the same with Rowley, leaving only Manny as an audience for the remainder of the story.
“But-”
“Bye! Thnak you for inviting me!” You yelled over, already out by the front yard.
“Uh- bye sweetie!”
You got to Rodrick’s van, which was parked on the street, all panting and out of breath from running so fast.
“Okay, get in demon spawn.” Rodrick unlocked the back door and waiting for the boys to enter.
“Hey!” You exclaimed in feighened offense.
“Not you. You’re a… sexy little demon...ess,” he smirked, knowing he’d get a laugh out of you.
You could hear Greg and Rowley say ‘ew’ from the back as you got in the car.
“I agrre with them, ew. I think I prefer demon spawn.”
Rodrick got in himself, turning the engine on. “Okay any ideas?”
“Can we go to Chipotle?” Rowley asked.
“No we should go to Taco Bell!” Greg yelled, and they immediately started arguing about it, talking over each other so loud you couldn’t understand a single word they were saying.
“Hey! Dickheads! Shut up!” Rodrick yelled, and, surprisingly, they did. “Y/n chooses.”
“What? Why?” Greg asked, offended.
“She has girlfriend privileges!”
You laughed at Greg’s angry expression. “Well I think we should go to Subway.”
“We’re not going to Subway." Rodrick deadpanned.
“What? You said I had girlfriend privileges!”
“Not if you choose fucking Subway!”
“Fine. Domino’s?”
“That's a decent option!” He smiled, and started driving.
You got yourselves a large pizza, Greg and Rowley quick to leave the table and go chase after each other around the place.
“You have grease on your chin,” you informed Rodrick when you looked at him. He wiped it off, his mouth full of food. He tried to say something, but quit as soon as he started, the sound muffled.
“Dude swallow the pizza first, that’s gross!”
He did so before trying again. “I said thank you.”
“It was looking all greasy and gross!"
"Oh shut up," he smiled at your teasing. "I meant for saying yes to my mom. She was actually like super excited about it.”
You furrowed your eyebrows together, confused. “Wait I thought you wanted me to say no.”
“Well yeah. But she clearly liked that you did go or whatever. She likes you.”
“That good?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. Maybe he won’t be so up our asses if she likes you.”
“Well you’re very welcome. Cause that was… something.”
He laughed. “You thought that was bad? You should see the Christmas one.”
There was no way. “They do a Christmas puppet show too?”
“Oh no it’s much worse. They actually act in it.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. And you’re officially invited by me.”
“Oh no don’t bring me into this again-”
“Too late! I-” he took a sip of his soda- “will be telling my mom you had a wonderful time today, and you were so, so bummed you had to go home early!”
“You’re a jerk!”
“What's that I hear? You’d be thrilled to attend the Yearly Heffley Christmas Play?"
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
You smiled. You supposed you signed up for weirdness the moment you said yes to dating Rodrick Heflley of all people.
“I do, actually!”
He smiled at you. No, you don't.
[. . .]
A/N: heyy rewrote some thingies but its mostly the same as when i first wrote it. so here ya go with some more rodrick content! :)
#ill get my shit together with my masterlinks#im slowly adding my old stuff to tumblr but everything ive ever posted is on ao3 so if yall wanna check it out its itsmarsss there too#rodrick heffley#rodrick heffley imagine#rodrick heffley x reader#greg heffley#rowley jefferson#diary of a wimpy kid#doawk#doawk imagine#doawk rodrick
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people do not understand how hard it was on the women in the camp and why they act the way they do and I’m tired of them getting hated on
Sadie Adler is allowed to be upset. she lost her husband, her home, everything, and has to adapt to the life of an outlaw all while still grieving and healing. she also has to share the same living space with the man who burned her house down to the ground and threatened to kill her. and even aside from Micah, she still isn’t treated all that fairly, being expected to do the more feminine chores around camp instead of being able to go out and hunt and rob. and she’s taken into the gang while it’s deteriorating so things just continue to go downhill and she loses one of the few friends she had made along the way at the very end.
Abigail Marston is allowed to be upset. she was a working girl at a very young age and was taken into a gang where her only real purpose at the time was to satisfy some of their sexual needs. and then she gets pregnant with Jack and her entire situation becomes more permanent. but then the father of her son ran away for a year and she was still surrounded by people who thought highly of him, she still had to do some sort of work either inside or out of camp, and I really think Susan was the only woman in camp who would know anything about pregnancy even if she had never been pregnant so the birth of Jack (and probably most of the pregnancy) was probably overlooked by most of the men excluding the ones like Hosea, Arthur, and Dutch. and then for John to return and claim that Jack isn’t his can only lead for her to have more emotional turmoil. and she couldn’t just leave the gang, she had nowhere to run to, a son to take care of, no job, and also a very limited amount of freedom. the gang moved a lot, the gang got into trouble a lot, there was always the fear that something would go horribly wrong and they’d loose a handful of people or that the law would finally show up. or that something would somehow happen to her son. we can see in the game how protective she is over him and how she’s still trying to get John to believe he’s his son. there’s also one interaction in the game where we hear Susan saying she should get back into the field of prostitution just to get some more money. one of the characters we see her closest to is Hosea, he’s a friend to her and had been the one to step up as a role-model for Jack and has spent more time with him in a day than John has in a month, so in chapter three when Hosea dies, it doesn’t get any easier for Abigail. AND HER SON LITERALLY GETS FUCKING KIDNAPPED???? she didn’t know if she’d ever even see her son again, and she does not owe John any kind of ‘thank you’ for rescuing their son. and we see the game where the gang is falling apart, characters die, people are tense and anxious, money is seemingly short no matter how much you donate, and her and her son are in what seems to be a situation they can’t escape from. I do not know every single thing she’s been through and have probably skipped over some details, but Abigail has not had the best experience in the gang.
Molly O’Shea is allowed to be upset. I already talked about her some here, but some people (@river-of-wine , @sweetybees , @dazednstoned) added things in the tags. Molly is promised a life of excitement and adventure from before the beginning of the game by Dutch, he isolates her early on so he’s really the only person she has a connection with in the gang, making her dependent on him. people in the gang and in REAL LIFE TOO are more often than not on Dutch’s side when it comes to Molly. as soon as we start chapter three Dutch becomes bored of her, already seeking out some other woman inside or out of the gang to rope into his life and his gang. so as literally any normal woman would feel, she is upset. she has no support group in the gang because of her isolation early on and the fact that most of the other women in the gang don’t care for her because she never had to do the work that they had to because Dutch made sure she would t have to. she has pent up emotions that lead to “outbursts” which only annoys the other gang members and causes her to isolate herself even more. Molly was a victim. she was not a bitch, she was not asking for too much, she was not undermining the situation, she just wanted Dutch to do the bare minimum for her.
being a woman in a gang in a world run by men was not easy. there are hundreds of other women in fiction and real life that have lived through these experiences, and the women in the VdL gang have it better than most cases, but they still don’t have it good. and this isn’t even to mention about how the world outside of the gang treated women (especially prostitutes and immigrants) at the time. a majority of the women in the VdL gang didn’t come to a good end, Abigail suffered throughout the gang, Molly and Annabelle got shot because of Dutch, Susan was Dutch’s ex and definitely suffered from his manipulation, I don’t really know about Bessie because she died of an illness and Hosea most likely treated her amazingly but she probably also went through some ordeals. the only women of the gang who really got out of the gang safe were Tilly and Mary-Beth.
Mary Linton is another thing, she does not deserve hate for leaving Arthur to live a better life, she did the smart thing by not marrying and running away with him because who knows what could’ve happened to her. I do not appreciate how she used Arthur’s emotions against him in the game and think that that is why she is a bit of a bad person, but she lived a better life than she ever would have if she was an official member of the gang. she got out before she was ever even in.
I can’t stop you from not liking characters, I’m not the biggest fan of Sadie but I can understand the hardships that all of these women went through.
#rdr2#abigail roberts#abigail marston#molly o’shea#sadie adler#woah#this is really long#anyways feeling analytical or something idk
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So I Spied Another Day...
You know it was a good show when you can’t decide whether your heart is so full from all the love and joy, or so empty because it's over.
Really do buckle up, because this is a long one.
So the show went a little like this. They played the Spies pro-shoot on a giant movie screen, but any time a song started, the audio changed to the instrumental track, the video typically faded to simple background graphics, and the cast came out to perform the number live in concert style. There were also a series of audience participation prompts up on the movie screen, such as standing to deliver a line in unison, giving Lauren a standing ovation for the Pay Attention! Reprise, enthusiastically booing Dr. Baron von Nazi and the still infuriatingly catchy Not So Bad (for anyone who’s curious, in addition to encouraging boos and yelled disagreements with von Nazi, they also cut the audience participation bit from the song).
The energy in the room was so electric and full of joy and warmth. People shouted out iconic lines, went wild for everyone’s entrances, and absolutely lost their damn minds over Curtwen at pretty much every opportunity. And the cast were clearly having just as much fun. Doing This has always been my favorite, and there was something so sweet about them singing it again all these years later. We finally got Joey performing Spies Are Forever (Evil Reprise) again and it was just as chilling and beautiful as you’d expect. And One Step Ahead was just on a whole new level. I don’t want to give anything away, but the details in that performance were INCREDIBLE.
It was simply so special seeing most of the original gang come back while also bringing some new friends along. Shout out to Mariah for coming out at the top of the show so ready to play, setting the tone for the whole evening. Shout out to James for putting his comedy chops on full display (LET JAMES BE FUNNY MORE) and dancing the hell out of One More Shot (another favorite number). And shoutout to Carlos Alazraqui (taking over the roles of Sergio and Vladimir Poopin) and Tommy Link for coming into this crazy part of our world with such enthusiasm and silliness. Brian deserves a medal for agreeing to once again play the most cringe-worthy character in all of Pulp-StarCanWrecked history, and for sounding so fucking good while doing it. Tessa was having a blast in full unhinged glory and I gladly worship at her altar. Lauren is maybe the funniest person alive and deserved her standing ovation, prompted or not. Seeing Joe Walker perform live has been Item Number One on my fandom bucket list since I moved to LA a couple of years ago, and I still can’t quite believe I managed it. I’d wondered if he’d be rusty, but honestly he sounded great; it was like no time had passed. Mary Kate still has one of my all-time favorite voices and her Tatiana remains forever engaging. Joey showed up dressed to slay as a gay evil genius Bond-movie supervillain and proceeded to thoroughly deliver on that promise. And Curt… every time I watch Spies I am increasingly blown away by what he does with this arrogant, broken mess of a character. He clearly loves Agent Mega as much as any of us, and to see a performance refined and powered by such clear and thoughtful passion is just a huge treat.
(And while he wasn’t in the cast, I can’t not mention Corey. Between his roles as director and co-writer, so much of what Spies is comes directly from him and we don’t appreciate that nearly enough. And shout out to Esther Fallick for her wonderful work as Susan and the Informant. She might not have been there in person, but her incredible performance was with us the whole time.)
I know this is preaching to the choir, but Spies Are Forever really is such a special show. It’s a story about recovery, and devastating as it can be, I think there’s also something deeply healing about it at its core. For one thing, I know it played a huge role in mending my relationship with my asexuality. I will forever be grateful to it for existing, to TCB, Talkfine, and the original cast for creating it, and to those same people for maintaining its legacy with the amount of love and care it deserves. It was a privilege to be in the room as so many people came to celebrate this miraculous little musical. There were a couple of minor tech glitches (I wonder if they’ll even include the “big one”—the projector jumping over most of the staircase scene before getting fixed—in the digital ticket version), but nothing that could even begin to damper the magic of the night.
We all know that spies never die (except for Owen and the Informant, oops). And at times like this concert, I think this special little show with its short run in 2016 will prove to be just as immortal.
#anyways I just had the best time#and it took a couple of days because I've been so busy but I had to write down how special it all really was#so grateful#spies are forever#spy another day#tin can bros#tcb#tinlightenment#agent curt mega#curt mega#owen carvour#tatiana slozhno#cynthia houston#the deadliest man alive#doctor baron von nazi#the informant#joey richter#lauren lopez#brian rosenthal#corey lubowich#mary kate wiles#mariah rose faith casillas#james tolbert#joe walker#tessa netting#tom lenk#Carlos Alazraqui
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Ch206 (p4), My family would never
After Theo asks what the teachers think of their honed aptitudes, Doll finds it funny...
...and says they are imitations that can never surpass the real thing/originals. She's aiming for Mabel, and we see reactions from Finny, Oliver, Susan -- I officially hate her now -- and Snake. Snake looks like he might rush to Mabel's aide.
As he moves to help Mabel, Snake is thinking about his circus family, and how he can't believe they would really kidnap kids and harm them (or put them in harm's way).
I've rearranged these next two panels, just so you can see them in the original layout. Doll strikes out with the broken glass, but instead of hitting Mabel, the blow lands on the left side of Snake's neck.
This gash must be very deep, because it's spurting blood out, not just oozing. Also, blood quickly starts to spill out of his mouth, suggesting not only has the carotid probably been cut, but so has his windpipe and/or esophagus. He still seems to be in disbelief that she would lash out against a child like that, but he can barely get the words out.
When Doll realizes what she's done, she freaks out in a panic, because he's the one person there she would never wish to harm.
But would she do anything necessary to try to save him? Is there anyone there who has the skills to help him at all? If the top students and Finny could band together and combine their knowledge and skills to help him, would Doll agree to a truce to let them? Would she force Susan and other staff to stand down and stay out of the way... or even help? Too many questions here... and I think it'll be too late for Snake by the time anyone can figure out what to do.
We haven't seen a reaper in this assignment, that we know of. But this doesn't mean Snake will live. There could have been one there the whole time, but they stayed in hiding, unlike Ronald at the sanatorium, etc. Sometimes the reaper organization gets alerts of unexpected deaths, too... when they happen, right? It would be nice to get a shinigami pass, but I can't expect it to happen for him.
Since I'm now expecting Snake to die from this wound, we might get some backstory for him, either as memories before he dies, or as cinematic records when a reaper shows up. Since we know how he joined the Phantomhive household, we might just get earlier memories, like more details from before/when he joined the circus.
Take note that not once this chapter has Snake spoken for his snakes; it's all been for himself. I should think that his flashbacks or memories would be speaking for himself, or perhaps for himself and the snakes.
Poor Snake. 😞 😢
#black butler#kuroshitsuji#ch206#chapter release#chapter review#chapter analysis#theo#theodore#doll#finny#finnian#snake#snake's snakes#mabel#oliver#susan#fol orphanage#circus troupe#circus members#backstory#observation#part four#part 4#nov 17 2023#tw: blood
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becky’s plan - rodrick heffley x reader
requests are open!!
based off becky’s plan by cody jon.
warning(s): language, not edited.
word count: 1.7k
request(ed): no.
summary: y/n is greg’s babysitter. y/n and rodrick don’t like eachother but he hates the fact that she doesn’t like him so he comes up with a plan to make her jealous.
————————————————————————————
hello, i’m the guy you friend zoned. now i’m in your friend’s phone getting her to help me out to test your doubt that i can’t be seen romantically…for you and me you feel “nothing”
susan was a coworker of your mom’s so when she offered you money to tutor her son greg, you obliged. however, what you didn’t know was that his older brother rodrick would be home during the hours you’d be there, so now you were stuck in the kitchen with a messy haired messy eyeliner annoying ass boy. he was a year older than you and everyone loved him but for some reason you couldn’t understand why. he wasn’t that hot and his music was terrible.
greg went to his room, you were done for the day so now you were helping yourself to some snacks, courtesy of susan.
rodrick and you used to be friends once. until freshman year of high school where he completely shut you out. and he never told you why. it’s like a switch had been flipped and he changed. he was still around but the friendship wasn’t the same.
a few months after that, he had asked you out but you didn’t take him seriously. not after how he had treated you. he didn’t take rejection well and so then the “friendship” really went weird.
there wasn’t really any hate towards the other, more just animosity and teasing.
“why are you staring at me rodrick?” he was across the kitchen, also with some chips in hand and his phone in the other.
“are you always such a bitch?” he asks throwing a chip at you.
you frown and pick it up and throw it away. his messes would not be blamed on you.
“are you always this annoying?” you ask.
he smirks and kinda laughs to himself while looking down at his phone and then up at you.
“you’ll find out.”
-
at school the next day you told your friend becky all about what happened at rodrick’s house yesterday. she seemed shocked to hear those words from you considering how much you didn’t like him, but she knew deep down that there was a thin like between love and hate and that you secretly had liked him since the seventh grade.
so when he texted her last night around eight, saying that he had a plan…she couldn’t help but want to indulge.
after school, you had agreed to tutor greg again but what you didn’t expect to find when you got there was rodrick…and becky kissing on his couch. it was like a peck or two that you saw when you walked in.
you locked eyes with rodrick and it’s like he was waiting for a reaction. waiting for you to say something.
truth is you didn’t know how to react. you didn’t know why their was a pain in your chest but there was. maybe because your closest friend was kissing someone you hated? right. that had to be it. but you weren’t going to say anything, because you tended to ignore problems until they go away. so maybe this ginormous one in the living room next to you would disappear too.
what if i made out with your friend? said hi to becky once again? maybe your eyes would turn to mine. realize the friend zones not our type….
greg didn’t really understand the lesson too well so you stayed later to help him. he was a smart kid and truthfully, the delay wasn’t entirely his fault. the whole lesson rodrick and becky’s faces were etched in your mind and that moment was playing on repeat. you couldn’t understand why she would do something like this. she didn’t even like him. i’m fact, she preferred girls. maybe she was experimenting and used rodrick because he was the easiest and would say yes to any kind of action he could get. yes. that had to be it.
you said goodnight to greg while he went upstairs to play video games. what you didn’t know is that when rodrick came into the kitchen to talk to you, greg snatched rodrick’s phone and sat on the stairs to search through it while simultaneously listening to your conversation.
“y/n…”
“rodrick.” you roll your eyes.
there was a silence until you decided to speak up and break the tension.
“your girlfriend still here? oh i’m sorry, i mean my best friend?”
he smirks. “she went home a while ago. you probably didn’t notice because you were too busy day dreaming in there instead of helping greg with his math.”
“where do you get off kissing my best friend? there are like 200 girls in the school, and you choose the one closest to me?”
again, you’re not sure why you’re so heated about it..but you were.
“why do you care y/n?” he steps closer to you and you were a bit intimidated by the height difference and kind of frozen in place. unfortunately, you kind of liked the closeness. “are you jealous?”
you stepped away lowkey offended but didn’t say anything. never would you be jealous of rodrick.
-
the next day at school you had hardly said two words to becky until lunch. it was awkward, and you weren’t really sure what to say.
“so…you and rodrick?” your chest felt like it was on fire.
“uhm, not really he’s just a bit of fun y’know?”
a bit of fun…
“yeah.” you pause. “yeah i get it…fun.”
becky’s thinking that her plan is working on the low low. she said that you’re jealous you don’t wanna get in the middle of it all. you don’t know we faked it all.
you saw rodrick and becky again after school. you watched her get into his truck and talk for a while. you don’t know why it stung, but it did. you were confused if anything…but you told her that you’d stay out of it and let her do her. it’s really none of your business…however, you can’t help but secretly wonder what’d it’d be like to kiss him. you hate that the thought is in your head…it’s like seventh grade you is back again, and you’d hate to be her again.
lovesick and pining over a guy that everyone likes. naive twelve year old y/n. never again.
two weeks went by and you felt like you were suffering. everywhere you looked you saw rodrick and becky. talking at their lockers, in his car talking, eating lunch together. you don’t know if you were jealous of her or jealous of him. you felt like you were losing your friend but also losing him.
and you hate that because you didn’t even have him to lose him.
so when your friend marcus invited you to a party saturday, you decided you would go. usually they weren’t really your scene but you needed to get your mind off things. you needed a distraction.
becky said she’d be there too and you agreed to meet her there but you’d let marcus take you. she sounded distant when you told her about him, but you weren’t sure why.
you put on some jeans that made your ass look nice, and your favorite shirt. it was cute. you were cute.
marcus picked you up and complimented you. the ride there wasn’t long and you guys just talked about school mostly. it was nice, but deep down all you could think about was rodrick. you knew he’d be at the party. probably with becky. so you were using marcus as bad as that might sound. you were sort of hoping to make rodrick jealous and you know that’s bad but you can’t help it.
i know, that becky’s plan is so low. i must admit it’s my fault. i bribed her with some chocolate.
when you got there, music was blaring. you immediately saw rodrick with his friends and becky came up to you with a drink. you told marcus you’d find him later. after a bit of dancing, you decided to go to the bathroom for a break where you saw gred and his friend rowley hiding.
“guys? what are you doing here?”
this was a highschool party…and they were middle schoolers.
rowley got red. “we snuck in.”
you shook your head. you couldn’t just leave them alone at a place like this, so you decided you’d stay with them. they weren’t that enthusiastic about having a babysitter but it’s their own fault. they shouldn’t have snuck in.
“oh. y/n.” greg grinned mischievously. “i have something to show you.”
he pulled his phone out and it was text messages between rodrick and becky.
it revealed that they would plan where they hung out so you could see them and get jealous. rodrick wanted to make you jealous…
you were infuriated and knew exactly what you had to do.
“i’ll be right back guys.”
you made your way downstairs and made a beeline for marcus. you asked him to dance and he accepted happily. his hands went down a little towards your ass and that’s exactly what you needed.
you locked eyes with rodrick and he looked…angry.
you smiled and whispered to marcus. “kiss me.”
and so he did. he leant down and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips. it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t bad. and rodrick saw it all. he came over and pulled you straight away from marcus.
“what the fuck.” you say. but instead of saying anything rodrick takes ahold of your arm and practically drags you upstairs.
“y/n what the hell?”
he lets you go and walks you into a wall so that you were close and he was seething. you found joy in it but you were pissed as well.
“becky’s plan?” you ask crossing your arms.
his face went red for a moment but he smirked. “how’d you find out?”
“doesn’t matter. you shouldn’t have done it.”
“but it worked.”
you couldn’t argue with that. it did work. it did make you jealous and you did have feelings for rodrick no matter how you tried to hide it or ignore it. almost losing him made you realize how much you really wanted him.
“and you got me back.” he said. “made me mad.”
“now you know how it feels.”
he grins. “that guy was almost on the floor because of you.” he’s closer to you now and you don’t stop him. one of his hands are on your waist and the other is on the side of your face tilting you up towards him.
“it was a dumb thing i did,” he said, “it was immature.”
“yes.”
“but you like me.” he says lips closer to you.
“…yes.” you admit.
and his lips were on yours and bodies pressed closer than possible. it wasn’t a quick kiss, or a peck. it was hot, and sweet, and passionate. your hands went through his hair and all you could think about was the loud music from downstairs, his lips on yours, and his hand wrapped lightly around your neck. the other hand was on your ass and it was slightly rough but you liked it. you’ve waited so long to feel like this.
his head went lower to press kisses against your neck and give you a large hickey you’d eventually notice later, while you resisted the urge to moan. why had you waited to long for him?
you both separated when you heard the bathroom door next to you. you were embarrassed.
“wow,” greg said. “that’s not how i thought things would turn out.”
maybe this year i’ll call you mine, realize the friend zone’s not our type.
#rodrick heffley#rodrick heffley x reader#rodrick heffley x y/n#rodrick heffley angst#rodrick heffley smut#rodrick heffley fluff#rodrick heffley imagine#rodrick heffley imagines
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Good evening my dear! I positively adore your writing! Especially 'Leave it all on the dancefloor' I LOVE HOW YOU DID ALASTOR'S DYNAMICS WITH THE READER HESHGDEG I WANNA PUT THEM IN MY POCKET I LOVE FRIENDSHIP!
Anywho, I was wondering since your requests are open if you'd write a platonic Susan fic? Like Susan and grandchild reader where the grandchild prevents Susan from being, well Susan to everyone else? Maybe some wholesome bonding moments? If you're okay with writing it!
- Radioisntdead 📻
❀ AHHHHH I'm so honored that you like my writing!!!! Of course I'd be happy to write for grandma Susan!!! She doesn't tend to get a lot of content at all tbh but this sparked inspiration for me so there will be more! Thank you SO much for the request I hope you enjoy!!! ❀
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The Susan Whisperer | Grandma Susan + Reader
Familial! Grandma Susan + Grandchild Reader
Description: After waking up in hell, you end up finding Cannibal Town, a peculiar little territory that also just so happens to be the home of your long-dead grandmother, whom everyone is happy to now make you responsible for.
(Notes: CW cannibalism, death) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Susan's grandchild from when she was alive)
Words: 2,125
When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find that you weren't in your bedroom anymore, as you'd expected. Not only that, but the place smelled...Well, horrible.
Sitting up and looking around, it didn't take long for you to realize you weren't on Earth anymore. Or at least, not a version of it you'd ever seen. Everyone looked different and there was so much red. It was also horrendously hot, but no one around you seemed bothered; as if they were used to the insane temperature.
Trying to remain calm, you stood up and went over to the friendliest looking creature, giving her a careful smile. "Hi, could you tell me where I am?" You asked. She looked you up and down before giving you a shrug.
"Hell."
At first you thought it was a joke. But as she walked away and you looked around some more, you realized there wasn't really another explanation that made sense. The creatures around you were so...Casually horrible? You had to dodge bullets left and right as you walked down the street, and at one point you even ran into a couple of them down on their knees as they literally ate a person.
Shying away from the horrid sight, you continued walking around aimlessly. You supposed you'd died, though you weren't sure how. One moment you'd been asleep in your bed, and now you found yourself facing eternal damnation, for whatever reason. You didn't even know what you'd done to deserve it.
As you passed by a clothing store, you paused at the sight of your reflection in the glass window beside you. You almost didn't recognize the version of you staring back. Your eyes were completely black and when you smiled, you had teeth so sharp they probably could have cut through bone if needed.
At some point, the shock you felt turned into muted concern as you continued walking. What else were you supposed to do? You didn't know if there were any rules or paperwork new arrivals in hell had to complete, but considering it was hell, you assumed not.
You weren't sure where you were going or what your plan was, but you couldn't stand to remain still. Walking had always cleared your mind before, and you used to take walks with your grandmother all the time before she died. Granted, going out with her was always a hassle due to her rude manners and loud opinions, but you still appreciated the companionship.
Thinking of your grandmother made your smile drop a bit. After her death, you hadn't had a lot of people in your life that had cared about you; not that she showed her love in very conventional ways, as it was. You hoped she'd ended up in a better place than you did, but something at the back of your mind told you she probably hadn't.
Eventually, you wandered into a cute little area of the city that you didn't know the name of. It was significantly cleaner than the rest of hell, which you could appreciate. And as you walked around, you realized many of the residents seemed to closely resemble you with their black eyes and sharp smiles.
...What a coincidence.
You turned your gaze towards what seemed to be the center of the little town now, where a small crowd had gathered, many of them shouting or calling out to someone in the middle. Curious, you approached the group.
"Rosie said we're not supposed to eat the new residents!" Someone called in a worried tone. In the middle of the group, a woman with what looked like a dead wolf resting around her shoulders scowled in their direction.
"I'll eat whoever the fuck I want!" She replied, crossing her arms and then turning to the...demon, you supposed? That was cowering on the ground. "And it ain't like any of you are gonna stop me, are ya?" No one spoke so the old woman nodded before turning back to the smaller demon and barring her teeth. "That's what I fucking thought."
You were struck with a sense of familiarity as you gazed at the old woman. It was almost like the two of you had met before; her voice sounded like you should have recognized it. But you'd never been in hell before today, so unless you'd become acquainted with her during life...
Oh no, you thought to yourself, taking a step forward and clearing your throat.
"...Grandmother?" You asked carefully, making everyone in the area freeze. The old woman, who was inches away from biting into the arm of the small sinner beneath her, turned with a frown.
"Huh?" She asked, looking around the crowd that still surrounded her, "Who said that?" Her tone was accusatory, and within seconds, the group near you had parted, leaving you exposed to her harsh gaze. You glanced at them sheepishly, feeling as if you'd just been thrown under a bus.
Once her gaze landed on you, she called her name as if she hadn't said the word in years. And, considering she'd been dead for that long, you supposed she probably hadn't. "That you, kid?" She asked, squinting her eyes as if she couldn't see you, even though she was wearing her glasses.
"Yeah, it's me." You replied sheepishly. "Good to see you, Grandma Susan." In the blink of an eye, the old woman had abandoned the demon she'd been trying to make into her lunch and was standing in front of you, inspecting you and your clothes as if she were the judge of an important contest. You stiffened as she walked a full circle around you, humming as she took in the outfit you'd appeared in hell wearing. It wasn't too different from what you might have worn in life, and she seemed to approve because she stopped in front of you with a curt nod.
"It is you." She decided at last, "You're taller than I remember, though; look how much you've grown." You chuckled before she turned to the rest of the crowd; all of whom were still standing around watching the two of you.
Looking back, you noticed a tall woman whose features looked almost like a skeleton coming your way, accompanied by another, similar looking demon. "Not again," she was saying quietly to the demon beside her. She wore a big red hat decorated with black feathers and a worried expression on her face, meaning she probably held some sort of responsibility among the crowd of people around you. Meanwhile, Susan spoke, diverting your attention back to her.
"Listen up, all of you!" She shouted to the rest of the demons, "This here is my grandkid, alright?" You almost wanted to cover your ears from her volume. "So I better not catch any of ya tryin' to bite into them or I'll make you my next meal, got it?!" You weren't sure whether to be touched or afraid by her words, but it was now that the woman in the red hat reached the two of you.
"Grandchild?" She repeated in surprise as she walked up next to you. Meeting her eyes, you gave her a sheepish smile. "You're Susan's grandchild?"
"Y-yeah..." You admitted as the old woman continued going around the circle of demons and tossing out threats like they were candy. None of them seemed particularly afraid, though; only respectfully nodding at her words. "Sorry..." It was a habit you'd picked up in life whenever you brought your grandmother in public, and you supposed you'd be apologizing on her behalf a lot more in the future.
The woman in the red hat only smiled, though, as recognition finally appeared in her eyes. "Ohhh, don't apologize, dear!" She exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively, "We're used to your grandmother around here, and between you and me, a lot of the cannibals really respect her." You stiffened at the word. Had Susan been a cannibal your whole life, and you hadn't known? "In fact, it'll be nice to have someone else around that can handle her," the woman went on and you swallowed, realizing what you'd just gotten yourself into.
She later introduced herself as Rosie, the overlord of Cannibal Town, which you realized was the name of this area of hell.
Rosie explained that your grandmother was one of her...Most active citizens. Once you got over the whole everyone-being-cannibals thing, you realized they were actually very pleasant; a stark contrast to the demeanor put on by your grandma herself. Rosie invited you to stay in her territory almost immediately, eager to have another person around that could be responsible for handling Susan, and since you literally had no other option, you agreed.
Rosie offered you a place to stay not far from your grandmother's home, but Susan wouldn't have it. She insisted that you live with her since your parents had 'kept you away from her' by living so far (a three minute walk) away in life.
Despite insisting that you live in her home, though, Susan routinely complained about your lack of assistance with the household chores. From cooking to cleaning to laundry, it seemed you didn't do nearly enough to take the burden off her shoulders; never mind that she'd verbally-and-adamantly forbidden you from helping with any of those tasks since day one.
She tried to turn you over to cannibalism, too, complaining about how annoying it was to prepare two separate meals all the time to suit your needs. Though, with how much she enjoyed cooking, and the fact that she always talked about non-cannibal dishes she could potentially make you, you were getting mixed signals.
It quickly became apparent that there were only two people Susan ever gave the time of day; Rosie and you. So whenever Rosie was busy- which was often, considering she ran all of Cannibal Town- you were in charge of making sure your grandmother didn't terrorize too many people. And thus, you came to be considered a sort of 'Susan Whisperer.'
It was a full-time job, and you often found yourself profusely apologizing to everyone for her rudeness as you walked arm-in-arm with her down the street. The other cannibals never seemed to mind, but that didn't mean you wouldn't at least try to get her to be kinder.
When Alastor first started coming around Cannibal Town, Susan only got worse. She would often change the route of your daily walks specifically so she could go past him and make a rude comment that often had the Radio Demon ready to murder her on the spot.
"I'm so sorry," you would always tell him, "Grandma and I are working on that." Then you'd turn to Susan and pull her along, getting her out of the situation before she could make him want to kill her even more.
But despite her abrasive nature, your grandmother truly did care for you. She was always cooking food she knew you would enjoy and bringing it to you at random times of the day; whether you were dead asleep, walking beside her, or chatting with Rosie over tea. She had her own ways of showing affection, and that was one of them.
She was also surprisingly protective. One time, a cannibal sinner that had died around the same time as you had invited you to lunch in your grandmother's presence and she'd turned around and bit his hand off before shouting that you 'already had plans with your family then.' He never went near you after that, and in fact, most of the cannibals were much more careful in your presence from that day on.
You knew from the moment Charlie arrived in town with Alastor that things were going to go south very fast. And when Susan wouldn't even let the princess of hell get a word in before she started heckling, you wanted to melt into the floor out of embarrassment.
"Grandma, maybe we should listen to what she has to say," You whispered, only to be ignored by the old woman, who continued talking over Charlie. Thus began a three-way conversation that really just consisted of Charlie trying to pitch her hotel, Susan doing anything but listening to her, and you trying to get your grandmother to stop being so rude to such an important figure in hell.
So when Charlie finally had her outburst, you really couldn't blame her, bringing a hand up to rub your temples as you wondered what you'd done to deserve this.
In the end though, you were what ended up getting Susan onboard with Charlie's plan. Not because you convinced her; you didn't think the old woman was capable of having her opinion changed by anyone, no matter who they were. But the angels' exterminations didn't leave Cannibal Town any more untouched than the rest of hell; meaning they put you in danger too.
And as prickly as Susan was, she'd tear apart the flesh of anyone that dared to hurt her grandchild, so of course she took the chance to eat a few angels, especially if it meant protecting you.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel susan#hazbin susan#susan hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#susan & reader#grandma susan#hazbin hotel grandma susan#platonic susan x reader#platonic hazbin hotel#platonic relationships#platonic x reader
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Billy hates the rain.
In San Diego, it rarely rains. The climate there is often called "American Mediterranean," due to the warmer winters and cooler summers, with only 40 days or so of rain a year.
Billy hates the rain because it means being stuck inside. It means not being able to escape Neil, being stuck in the house with him- or later, being stuck inside with him, Susan, and Max. He can only play his music so loud without being yelled out, and it's never loud enough to drown out the screaming between Neil and Susan, and it's always loud enough to bring down Neil's wrath.
It rains a lot more in Hawkins. Not a lot, compared to other places, if you ask around, but it's a lot more than Billy's used to, and he hates it, because it's more time under the same roof as Neil.
Which is why he finds himself in the woods, sitting in the back of Eddie Munson's van, the doors open to let in fresh air as they smoke and share a beer.
He'd just wanted to buy some weed, then drive to an isolated place to smoke in his car and ride out the rain, sober up, then drive home in time to crash, avoiding Neil altogether.
Eddie had surprised him, though.
When Billy had asked for indica, Eddie had lifted a brow.
Everyone asks him for sativa- they want the mind high, the giddiness and the "everything is funny," kind of high that makes them feel good without making them want to faceplant into the floor.
Yet here's Billy Hargrove, the newest bad boy, the new King of Hawkins High, standing in the rain, asking for indica, wanting the full-body stone that makes one sleepy, content, and agreeable before sliding into a well needed sleep.
And he wants to smoke some, sleep it off, then go home.
"Have you ever smoked indica?" Eddie asks.
"It makes you drowsy," Billy shrugs. "I've always had sativa, but I want something a bit more mellow."
"Yeah, sorry, man. I don't know if I can give you a strain you've never smoked- especially if you're gonna drive somewhere by yourself, when you don't know how you're gonna react to it," Eddie replies with a frown.
Billy wants to punch him. He's taking a risk, coming out to buy weed, and from what everyone says about Munson, the less time spent around him, the better. But he sure as hell doesn't want to drive away empty handed- and he sure as fuck doesn't want to go home, or be sober.
When Billy sets his jaw, the tendons in his neck going taut, Eddie expects a swing at his face, but it doesn't come. Billy simply shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and turns to go back to his car.
"Hey," Eddie says. "Hold up."
Billy glances over his shoulder at him, and when his hair falls off his cheek, Eddie sees the barest hint of a faded bruise, and it clicks.
Hargrove hasn't gotten into a fight- not yet. It'd be all over school if he had- especially since everyone knew Tommy Hagan was the first one to talk about any fights.
"What?" Billy asks, his voice tight.
At that moment, he looks like a sad, wet stray dog afraid of getting kicked, and Eddie can't stand it. He might be a hard ass, but he looks so pathetic, despite the clenched jaw and hard eyes, that Eddie can't send him away.
Eddie motions for him to come over, patting the blanket he's spread over the back of his van.
"Come on. Free sample, see if you react to it alright. If you do, I'll sell you some, and you can be on your way. How's that sound?"
He can't really say no to that, and sharing a joint with Eddie Munson is better than going home.
So here he is, feeling the tension drain from his body as he leans against the inside of the van, watching the rain fall outside as he and Eddie pass the joint back and forth in companionable silence.
Eddie doesn't ask any questions, doesn't even make small talk, and Billy appreciates it- especially since he can see that Eddie is full of curiosity.
He's also glad Eddie let him have a free try- indica hits him like a sledgehammer. He's not about to fall asleep- his natural anxiety is too strong for that- but he's so relaxed, his limbs so heavy, that the thought of getting up seems like such an insurmountable task that he can't even fathom driving home.
But for the first time in a while, he feels relaxed enough that he can unclench his jaw, lie back against the panel of the van, and just listen to the rain pattering on the metal roof.
Eddie moves to the front of the van and puts the engine in accessory, the tape deck crackling to life. Metallica fills the air, and Billy hums in appreciation as he recognizes the Ride the Lightning album.
"Sorry, was a bit too quiet for my liking," Eddie says, settling back into his spot beside Billy- close enough to pass the joint, but not close enough to touch.
"No, I like it," Billy replies. "Love Metallica."
Eddie gives him a small half grin, and rummages in a cooler beside him. He pulls out a beer and cracks it open, handing it to Billy, who blinks, surprised, but takes it with a soft murmured "Thanks," and he takes a long quaff. It's cold, and smooth, and tastes even better with the indica coursing through his veins.
He and Eddie sip their beer in silence, listening to the rain and Metallica, watching the world start to darken as the sun the sets behind the clouds.
For the first time, Billy doesn't mind the rain.
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youtube
I wasn't expecting someone to have uploaded this scene anywhere yet (I've not even seen many gifs) but someone did and I'm so glad because it means I can talk about it more!
Out of context I guess it's not much. The music is probably nothing special either (it's just a slow sad piano piece that is definitely meant to evoke a range of emotions) and my husband complained that it shouldn't have had the accompanying soundtrack. He loves this part too but he thought it would be more powerful with just the piano.
I think what gets me the most about this is that we can all try to imagine a world where music is deliberately terrible and/or doesn't exist properly. I would say the majority of us have been affected by music one way or another...so just the release of tension from the supporting characters in this scene is a strong emotional beat that I really appreciated. Music can take you through the whole spectrum of human feeling and I think it was done well here. Imagine not having that for so long and suddenly you hear something that speaks to you on a level you've either not experienced for a long time or never experienced at all.
Then you get Ruby, who is a mystery herself, but she's playing this for a friend who had her heart broken by another girl. I have seen a few interpretations of this and am not about to say anyone is wrong because that's the beauty of a throwaway line like that - maybe Ruby was just trying to cheer up her friend, maybe she was in love with her friend too, those are both valid theories!
Finally you get to The Doctor...oh Ncuti you did so much with such a small snippet of information. For those who don't know, it's 1963 in this episode and prior to this scene he mentions that his oldest self (the First Doctor) is currently living in a scrap yard nearby with his granddaughter Susan (the first companion) - I just adore that The Doctor is allowed this quiet moment of reflection where you can see that Ncuti is trying to convey an unfathomable amount of thoughts must be crossing The Doctor's mind. He has experienced thousands of lifetimes by this point, I know the show fudges The Doctor's age a lot but whatever interpretation we go with, they've lived way longer than any human can comprehend. That's difficult for a human actor to get across but so many of the handful of actors who have played them manage to do it beautifully. And this was one of those times.
Add in Easter eggs such as the costume designer from the Fourth Doctor's era getting a cameo in this scene and I just love everything about it.
Great scene...I'm sorry for gushing so much about it but it's been some time since a Doctor Who scene got to me THIS much.
(Also why yes I am forever cursed to fangirl extremely long-lived alien/god-like beings who angst frequently.)
#Doctor Who#Doctor Who Spoilers#Ncuti Gatwa#Millie Gibson#The Devil's Chord#The Doctor#Fifteenth Doctor#Ruby Sunday#Doctor Who Meta#i'm just rambling#Youtube
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Shows, books, and games I credit for my vore obsession:
From childhood:
Yo gabba gabba (this one was really early childhood, lol)
The magic school bus
Ninjago (specifically pythor)
I have a fucking snake dictionary....
And a bookshelf full of dragon books....
I have had a deep obsession with dragons and snakes, two big pred animals from a young age. What do you expect?
youtube
The first 6 minutes of this...
Chicken little (a book) by Rebecca and Ed Emberley
Around middle school:
Dragon rider by Cornelia Funke
Monsters vs Aliens (ofc Susan being the main culpret)
Minecraft operation map youtube videos
Dragon pilot (Tbh, Idk who made this, but I wish them only the best in life)
My overall obsession with robots (particularly helped by me re-watching ninjago cause my child mind had warped so much lol)
Simi-Recent:
Cells at work
The movie "The Bad Guys" (there is literally vore as part of the movie)
Also, the only reason I got into fnaf was cause I heard in the game security breach you get to hide in the main robot (who I now know as glamrock Freddy)
Roblox? Kind of? It was more of a curiosity than a motivator.
Most Recent:
Tumbler..... you have fuled my passion greatly, enough to where Im tempted to draw vore in class....
And so many more I can't remember rn.
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Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 25
Catherine might have missed like 99% of Henry Tilney's flirting, but she has an inkling it has happened, maybe, "He had—she thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, shown something like affection for her."
Which is why I love this meme so much:
Again, Catherine touches upon Marianne Dashwood behaviour but she just can't really commit, "But now—in short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with a broken heart, and could scarcely give an intelligible answer to Eleanor’s inquiry if she was well." However, by the end of the evening and with Henry being kinder than ever, she has recovered. she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the lenient hand of time did much for her by insensible gradations in the course of another day. She does indeed bounce back quickly!
Catherine reflects that in England at least, the type of villains described by Mrs. Radcliff must not exist. She doesn't go so far as to pardon France and Switzerland from containing such evil, but she's pretty sure about her own country. She also believes that while Henry and Eleanor may not be perfect (never!), she's certain that General Tilney has some "specks" in his character. Well you've come a long way girl, we won't ask for more just yet.
Murder was not tolerated, servants were not slaves, and neither poison nor sleeping potions to be procured, like rhubarb, from every druggist.
Quick, someone tell Shakespeare!
Now Catherine's thoughts return to Bath, but she has no news. Her faithful friend has proved unfaithful again: But Isabella had promised and promised again; and when she promised a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it! Oh Catherine...
Not as bad as her brother though! Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him; his honest heart would feel so much. Honest heart! That man doesn't have an honest cell in his entire body! I would have more hope for James if we knew he finally figured out John, but the only hint we have is this: the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliation between Morland and Isabella. So James and John met again and John tried to get them back together, but whether James rejected both siblings or just one is unknown.
I really feel for Catherine here, she has to sit through breakfast trying not to cry, then cannot return to her room because it is being cleaned (bedrooms in this era were mostly for dressing and sleeping, so she wouldn't be expected to use her room again until 4pm*), tries the drawing room only to discover the Tilney siblings, but then they kindly leave her to herself. Catherine needs another half hour (her magical sad-feeling time) before she can face them.
This line from Catherine is so very Jane Bennet:
"Could you have believed there had been such inconstancy and fickleness, and everything that is bad in the world?”
What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here collected in one individual! -Pride & Prejudice, of Wickham
The poor girls, having their eyes opened to the wickedness of the world.
Then this part:
This post by Fira Wren playing in my head. His kids know the General is full of it. Eleanor is surprised her older brother has fallen in love, since it seems he never has been before, which again has Henry Crawford vibes.
No, not very. I do not believe Isabella has any fortune at all: but that will not signify in your family. Your father is so very liberal! He told me the other day that he only valued money as it allowed him to promote the happiness of his children.” The brother and sister looked at each other.
Now the reason that Isabella Thorpe would lose in a battle to the death against Lucy Steele and Lady Susan is that she didn't keep her first man secure until she had the next engagement entirely locked down. Rookie movie Izzy! I have too good an opinion of Miss Thorpe’s prudence to suppose that she would part with one gentleman before the other was secured. Isabella just could not manage two men at once.
I love this interaction:
This line from Catherine too, "I never was so deceived in anyone’s character in my life before.” and Henry's response: “Among all the great variety that you have known and studied.” has so much in common with this interaction in Pride & Prejudice:
“But perhaps,” observed Catherine, “though she has behaved so ill by our family, she may behave better by yours. Now she has really got the man she likes, she may be constant.”
“Indeed I am afraid she will,” replied Henry; “I am afraid she will be very constant, unless a baronet should come in her way; that is Frederick’s only chance. I will get the Bath paper, and look over the arrivals.”
“I did not know before,” continued Bingley, immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”
“Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.”
“The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”
Henry also manages to tip us off about his intentions to marry Catherine right under Catherine's oblivious nose!
"Prepare for your sister-in-law, Eleanor, and such a sister-in-law as you must delight in! Open, candid, artless, guileless, with affections strong but simple, forming no pretensions, and knowing no disguise.”
“Such a sister-in-law, Henry, I should delight in,” said Eleanor with a smile.
Catherine also realizes that she feels much less sad about losing Isabella than she thought she would, which Henry tells her to think about. The falseness of Isabella's friendship is dawning on Catherine, perhaps now just unconsciously.
*Quote illuminating this point from Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, spoke by a character who would have been young during the Regency era: 'No, no, Cromer: bedrooms are for sleeping in, and sitting-rooms are for sitting in. Keep everything to its right purpose, and don't try and delude me into nonsense.' Why, my mother would have given us a fine scolding if she had ever caught us in our bedrooms in the daytime. We kept our out-door things in a closet downstairs; and there was a very tidy place for washing our hands, which is as much as one wants in the daytime.
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Episode 7, here goes nothing
You are literally too perfect for this show sir
Why does Alastor have more screentime in Charlie's room than her literal girlfriend
WHY DO THEY LITERALLY SHARE A BED BEFORE WE SEE CHARLIE AND VAGGIE DO
He's so fucking happy listening to her trauma dump I hate him /pos
Oh yeah the whole "angels can be killed" was a plot point wasn't it lol
Damn Charlie why so bitter about Vaggie being an angel. Like I understand being upset she kept such a big secret from you but it's not like she didn't have her reasons? Vaggie probably just figured it'd be safest to pretend to be a demon since she couldn't return to Heaven
"Come now Alastor she's much too young for you" S T O P
OH SHIT actual verbal confirmation Alastor's ace?? I was NOT expecting that
Cannibal Town is lovely design-wise but the characters dressed in red on a background is getting hard to look at
Rosie's design is pretty nice too, her design isn't too overly complicated
Carmilla: *makes it clear she doesn't want to help Vaggie fight angels*
Also Carmilla: *immediately starts teaching Vaggie how to fight angels*
Make it make sense ma'am
"It's not like you've ever failed to inspire before" Al I don't think Charlie's managed to inspire anyone once but okay
Susan.
I also just realized, wouldn't you think Vaggie would know something about how to kill an angel since she is one? Or at the very least know their weak points?
Oh okay so Vaggie didn't even know she herself could be harmed, fair enough I suppose
Wait so the angels' main weakness is their own weapons? And no one has figured this out until just now???
Carmilla's design looks way better with her hair down imo
It is honestly a crime Vaggie has such little screentime as she does, because the more I see of her the more I like her. It's also so frustrating Charlie basically just cut her off the second she found out she was an angel when her whole goal is redeeming people?? Charlie why are you fine with every other character calling you a bitch and Alastor literally owning peoples' souls but completely shun your own girlfriend because she (understandably imo) kept a secret from you??
And even after Charlie shunned her Vaggie is STILL 100% dedicated to supporting her cause and is willing to fight to keep her safe. Vaggie you deserve so much better
Aw Al giving Charlie his mic is sweet, what can I say. Characters trusting another character with a prized possession of theirs gets me
Hmmmm Al and Rosie's duet sounds a little sus. Sounds like Al wants to shape Charlie into something specific. Maybe in order to take over Hell or something??
Charlie why you making that face about your girlfriend's wings, what are you thinking about
Also really kinda wish these two actually sat down and had a talk together, but we already know this show has zero down time, so onto the finale I guess. So, so much of this show's pacing could be fixed if these characters just sat down and talked to each other. Charlie specifically should be spending more time with all the characters she claims to care about, but I'd be willing to bet money she's not Viv's favorite character lmao
I feel like this show was really scared it wasn't going to get another season, so they just crammed as much stuff as they could into 8 episodes. Which, now that it's been renewed for another season, what exactly are they planning on doing going forward? Ease up on the lightning-fast pacing or just keep the same momentum? If it gets more than two seasons I honestly have no clue what they're going to do story-wise because pretty much everything is being wrapped up neatly. Ah well, I guess time can only tell
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The Freaks of Hawkins
Billy Hargrove x Byers! Reader
Word count: 2,319
—
It was Saturday night when Billy was taking a drag out of his cigarette and styling his hair. He had his clothes on and just needed to put on his leather jacket before heading to a girls house. He didn’t even remember her name but it doesn’t matter, he won’t see her again.
Everything was going great, until Susan spoke from the other side of the door. “Billy?”
“I’m a little busy in here Susan.” Billy spoke as he took a drag from his cigarette.
“Open the door. Right now.” As he heard his dads voice he knew he had no other option but to open it.
Placing the cigarette on the ash tray he walked to the door and opened it. His dad was standing there, next to Susan, who as usual reminded him of a lost puppy. He honestly didn’t know what his father saw in her. Maybe it’s because she’s docile or actually a nice person. Billy would never know, his father never properly introduced them.
“What’s wrong?” Billy knew this attitude will get him in trouble but he was in a rush to get out of the house.
“Why don’t you tell us” his dad always felt like he had the upper hand and his way of speaking showed it.
“Because I don’t know.” Again Billy knew he should just keep his mouth shut. Yet he kept on talking.
“We can’t find Maxine.” Finally, Susan spoke but as usual. Neil took over. “And her windows open…where is she?”
Fear came onto Billy but after a few seconds of thinking, he realized she must’ve snuck out to meet with her friends. Yet he wasn’t sure if she did because even if he did act like an asshole she always asked for a ride.
“I don’t know” he responded truthfully.
“You don’t know?” His dad scoffed while taking a step into his room.
“Look, I’m sure she just went to the arcade or something. I’m sure she’s fine.” Billy turned away from his dad and continued to get dressed.
“You were supposed to watch her.” His dad spoke once more causing Billy’s blood to boil. He’s not sure how his dad expects Billy to be the perfect brother when he never got that kind of care from his dad.
“I know dad I was. It’s just you guys were three hours late, and, well, i have a date.” Billy almost wanted to laugh, this was no date he was going to.
He put on his jacket and fixed his hair before turning to face his dad, who was closer than he expected. “I’m sorry, okay?”
No soon after did the spiteful words and strong hands came to him. There was no reasoning with him and all Billy could do was take it all. He just hopes that whatever Max is doing is worth all this trouble.
Meanwhile, you were at the Wheelers house putting Holly to sleep. Even though you were typically her nanny when Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were out. You were called by Mrs. Wheeler to come take care of Holly urgently, claiming she needed some alone time.
As much as you wanted to say no, your family really needs the money with your mom, Joyce, having to work two jobs. Luckily your older brother, Jonathan, also started working a while back. Yet it still wasn’t enough, not after what happened to Will. You’re not sure how many appointments he’s had but the bills that keep accumulating serve as a reminder.
So here you were, telling Holly her favorite bedtime story. Hoping she will fall asleep soon, after all, this was your last resort. You’ve tried countless of other things to tire her out but none seemed to faze her one bit.
The story you’re reading was pretty dumb and you weren’t sure why she liked it so much. Its about a pink mouse that goes to adventures and aside from her being drawn as tiny and skinny. She is strong and is able to lift up heavy things. It’s the same one she asks you to read every time you look after her, you’re sure she’ll get tired of it eventually.
Aside from this, she has you wrapped around her little finger and you do what she says because even though you have a you get brother. This is the closest you’ve been to having a sister.
As you read her the story you began to play with her hair, in hopes that it will help. Which it did because soon after she got comfortable. She brought her plush animal closer to her chest and hugged your arm. Still, you knew she wasn’t asleep and you kept on reading, only stopping when you heard her small snores.
You set the book down on and tried to pull your arm. You were able to do it but shortly after, the doorbell rang. Causing her grip on your arm to tighten, leaving you back in square one. You weren’t sure if she did this on purpose or if she was doing so subconsciously.
Once more, you heard the doorbell ring and you tried to free yourself from Hollys death grip. You thought that maybe it was Jonathan coming to pick you up, considering how late it was. You didn’t want to keep him waiting, slowly but surely you were able to free your arm. Still, you slowly stepped back in case you needed to go back and help her go back to sleep. You really hoped Lilly, her plush animal, will help keep her asleep. It will be a pain getting another phone call from Mrs. Wheeler asking you to come by again just to help Holly go back to sleep because ‘she listens more to you than to her own mother’.
You made sure to walk carefully, not trying to step on any toys laying around. It felt like walking around eggshells, one wrong step and it was all over. Finally, you reached her door and as you stepped out you prayed to all the God’s above that she wouldn’t wake up after hearing the door creak. Luckily you heard no movement which made you sigh in relief.
You turned to face the staircase and walked down slowly. As you got near the bottom you heard Mrs. Wheeler’s voice and a male’s voice. Which didn’t sound a thing like Jonathan’s or Mr. Wheeler’s. As you reached the floor you were able to perceive the voice as his. The one and only Billy Hargrove, you never spoke to him but you knew enough about him due to the gossips going around school.
You’ve heard many girls cry in the gym locker room. Saying that after they went with him to have a quick fuck, that’s all they were to him. He didn’t call back and ignored them whenever they passed by him. It surprised you to know he was here, you didn’t know Nancy would stoop so low.
You were starting to feel awkward and just wanted to get out. Letting out a deep breath you told yourself you’ll only walk into the kitchen, tell Mrs. Wheeler that Holly is asleep and that you’ll be leaving.
She was the first to notice you as you stood a few feet away from them. “Just wanted to let you know that Holly is asleep and I’ll be leaving now.”
Yet it felt as if your voice fell upon deaf ears. “Oh y/n, Billy here, is looking for his sister..” Mrs. Wheeler spoke as she had a smile on her face and pointed at Billy as if they were friends.
“Step sister” he corrected her with a charming smile
“Right, he is looking for his step sister and I was wondering if you could help him find her.” She finished explaining as she attempted to hide the lust in her eyes.
“Mrs. Wheeler here, told me I could find her at the Bylers house… are you up for it?” He turned his full body towards you while leaning on the counter. He grabbed a cookie and tried to it seductively. Which made you feel a little weird seeing that he was behaving this way while a mom was behind him.
“Yeah, sure.” You regretted it as soon as the words got out of you mouth but there was no turning back now.
With a wink in your direction he turned back to Mrs. Wheeler and thanked her for her help. You also turned towards her and wished her a goodnight before heading for your bag and followed after Billy.
You got inside his car and as soon as he turned the keys the car came to life causing you to get nervous. Jonathan’s car sounded nothing like this but what really got you to jump was the volume of the music. It was so loud you weren’t sure how he didn’t have any hearing problems.
Of course Billy caught sight of this and gave you a small chuckle. “Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.”
A small ‘it’s ok’ was all you were able to muster. Never in a million years did you think you’d ever be in Billy’s car. You felt out of place, the only girls he ever allowed in his car were the girls who he used as a quick fuck. Them and his step sister, Max, who went to the middle school next to Hawkins High.
The ride was fairly silent except from the times you gave him directions. Aside from that, you could only hear the song playing in the background.
“Take a right turn here and just continue on straight.” You spoke and you hoped it will be the last thing you said to him.
“So tell me…” he started and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, this night couldn’t go any worse.
“Are they really freaks like everyone says?” He asked while glancing from you to the road.
“What do you mean?” You tried to pretend to not know what he was talking about. Yet you had the feeling that he is referring to your family.
“The Byers, I’ve heard many people say they’re freaks. Especially after the youngest…Will I think his name is. Everyone said he was dead but was then found. Tell me, do you actually think his brother had anything to do with it?” He asked with a smirk on his face, it was as if he found all of this amusing.
You didn’t know why his comment bothered you so much. It was what you’ve heard ever since Will got taken.
“Is that all you’ve heard?” You asked because even if you always kept to yourself and sometimes people forgot about your existence. You thought they might’ve mentioned your name when talking about your family.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Well I guess we’ll find out soon.” You said as you cleared your throat.
Once the two of you reached your house Billy turned off the engine and couldn’t help but groan at the sight of Steve.
You on the other hand, were slightly confused. When Jonathan dropped you off you it was still daytime, meaning nobody else was at your house. Your mind started running circles, as you grabbed your bag you quickly opened the passenger door and got out.
“Steve is everything alright?”
He was so fixated on Billy that he didn’t notice you were also in the car. “Y/n, why are you with Hargrove?” He asked while putting one hand on his hip and pointing with the other.
“He gave me a ride. Is my mom home?” You asked as you held onto the strap of your backpack.
“No she uh, she just left. Jonathan too oh and Will.” He tried to make it sound as if it was a normal conversation. Yet he failed miserably at it, if anything, you were now scared that something might’ve happened to Will.
“So what? I’m just supposed to stay home?” You asked.
“We’ll figure something out, just go inside.” He said but his eyes never left Billy’s, still trying to figure out what he was doing there.
You took notice of this “he’s just here for Max, is she here?” You asked once you stood next to Steve.
Throughout the interaction you had with Steve, you could feel Billy’s eyes staring at you. He wasn’t sure why you were talking to him as if the two of you were close. Sure he’s seen you around school here and there but not once did Steve talk to you.
“Yeah… Max. Hey Max!” He yelled her name out hoping she will be able to hear.
The front door opened quietly and you could hear her soft footsteps. It reminded you of a kid who knew would get in trouble by their parents for getting a cookie before their bedtime.
“Well, she’s here. You can now leave Hargrove.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder and headed to your house.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to know you talked to a freak.” You barked at him, you couldn’t control the anger that kept on bubbling in your chest any longer. No matter how beautiful his stupid face was, he didn’t know the full story. That didn’t give him the right to talk like that about your family.
Billy was so fixated on trying to figure out your relationship with Steve. That it barely down on him what you said. ‘Is my mom home’ he tried to pretend to not care about it. It wasn’t as if he wanted to get close to you yet he felt his heart drop as he realized he just lost his only chance.
Max wasn’t sure what had happened between you two prior to showing up. Yet the look in Billy’s eyes held the same emotion each time Neil would beat him for something that was out of his control. It was a mix of sadness and confusion.
Taglist: @kawaiibear0704 @mama-miya @hellomyweirdos @lubsana @n39ro-chann
#sad-brunnettee#stranger things#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n
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