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ipuckwithhockey · 3 years

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Easier Said Than Done- M. Tkachuk

Part 1, 2

Part 3- he’s just a boy...

summary: Spending time with Matt is only making you fall harder for him but what if he isn’t on the same page?

a/n: part 3 y’all! i hope you enjoy it. let me know what you think!

warnings: cursing, smut (practice safe sex y’all)

What did you do wrong?

That’s the question that is running through your head as you stare down at your phone, hoping that it will ring or buzz with Matt’s contact. But it doesn’t. It hasn’t. It’s been over a week since you last heard from him and you’re not sure what turned him off so suddenly. For the last few weeks the two of you have spent most the day texting each other, asking about your days, sending memes, and talking about whatever comes to mind, but now it’s radio silence on his end.

After Matt had asked you out you went on your first date and even though your best friend hadn’t been on board with it, you still went. Addy had warned you that it wasn’t a good idea, that going out with a professional athlete, especially one with a reputation was only going to end with your heart broken. You told her it was just a first date, that if it didn’t go well then there wasn’t anything to worry about. Only it did go well and after your second and third dates you knew you were starting to fall for the guy.

He had a couple of short road trips between your first few dates and when he was gone he never failed to call you after games or text you throughout the day. He would ask you how your studying was going and would quickly Google some of the legal jargon you would use when explaining your classes. He was polite, funny and charming, and you couldn’t resist that glimmer of mischief in his eyes or the curls that fell at the nape of his neck.

Your five date rule was quickly thrown to the side and after sitting through a movie with a particularly steamy scene, you couldn’t help but invite him up to your apartment after your fourth official date.

Sex with Matthew was something else. The usual awkward first time wasn’t actually that awkward, and once he was lying between your legs, any inhibitions you had before were gone. He was a little rough and sloppy and when you told him you were sure, he gave you time to adjust to his size before railing into you, only making you beg him for more.

His confidence and smug attitude only made sex hotter. Your more quiet demeanor only made Matthew want you more, and when you whined his name for the first time, he knew he had never heard a sound so sweet. After that first night together Matt knew he was only digging a deeper whole for himself, and he was thankful for the road trip that took him away the next evening.

He needed time to think. Time to process what he was getting himself into. The only problem was that he could only think of you, your nervous laugh when he would flirt just a little too obviously, the way you’ve already started to reach for his hand to hold it, and as much as he hates to admit it, every night of his trip the thought of you and your body, your mouth wrapped around him, or the sounds he made come from your mouth were on his mind. But the next morning when he would join the team for breakfast, he couldn’t even let himself sit across from his captain. He was ashamed that he couldn’t keep himself from you and that he was only living up to the word immature that gets thrown around too often. It’s been almost a month since your first date and Matthew knew that sneaking around, texting you during the day and scurrying off to his room after games to call you was only going to become more and more suspicious. By the last day of this trip, the day that the team would be flying home, Matt had decided he needed to end things with you. He knew that keeping something like this from Gio would only effect his playing, and that was still his number one priority.

The two of you had been texting off and on over the few days that he had been away, and when you asked if everything was okay after going a day without hearing from him, he told you he was just focusing on his games. You went out on a limb, and after their last game on the road you called him before they got on the plane. You asked if he wanted to come over when he got home later that evening. Matt had told you before that he never really sleeps after games anyway, and so you figured he would probably be free to come over. At the very least, you had hoped he would be free, and as much as you hated to say it, after that night and after watching him play while he was on the road, you were more than a little wound up for him. Maybe it was selfish, but you couldn’t wait to see him again, and maybe even get him back into your bed.

“Hey. What’s up?” Matt said as he answered your call, and even though they had won their game, his voice wasn’t as bright and energetic as it usually was.

“Hey! Um, congrats on the win! I was thinking... maybe we can celebrate when you get back?” You asked with a flirty tone, hoping that he caught on to what you were saying, and you couldn’t see him but Matt was loosening the tie that was suddenly suffocating around his neck, and as much as he would love to have you sprawled on your back for him, he knows that he can’t let himself say yes. Instead, he tells you he’s tired and that he’s going to just head home when he gets back.

You can’t help but feel a little sad and you answer trying to hide your disappointment, “Oh okay. Yeah, you should get some rest I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

But Matt can hear the change in the tone of your voice and he can’t help but feel horrible for lying to you, knowing that he really isn’t that tired, and that he’ll probably just go home that night and attempt to get himself off on the thought of you.

“Are you free Thursday?” And before he can stop himself he’s caving, asking if you’re free so that he can see you again, and you hate that it’s so easy, but it makes you smile again and that flutter in your chest is back and when you tell him Thursday would be great, he mentally curses himself for being so weak.

But he never called after that night. He couldn’t let himself do it, and when you text him he immediately deleted the messages. He didn’t know how to handle it, but he knew that if he tried to tell you he couldn’t see you anymore that he would never be able to say it. The only way he could possibly stay away from you was if he avoided you at all costs, knowing that if he heard your voice or saw your face he would be screwed.

You’re not sure what you did wrong and even though you and Matt had only gone out a few times, you can’t help but feel like he played you. He took you out a couple times and then got what he wanted. You didn’t want to be the crazy girl who called and texted a million times, you didn’t want to admit that he already had such a hold on you, so you refrained from texting him after trying to get in contact for a day or two. It’s day ten now, and you’ve been throwing yourself into your studies in an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that Matthew has successfully ghosted you. But tonight when you’re about to turn off your phone, you let yourself click his contact in your messages before you type out a small message.

y/n: Hey, i haven’t heard from you in a few days, just wanted to make sure you were okay :)

It’s a simple message and as sad and desperate as it feels trying to get his attention you send it anyway. As much as you’re hoping for a response, you’re also at half expecting him to continue to ignore you.

Matt was laying in bed, trying to settle his mind so that he could get some decent sleep, but sleep won’t find him and when his phone vibrates on the table next to his bed, he rolls over to read the notification. He figured you had gotten over him since he hasn’t heard from you since right after he started ignoring your messages, but reading the text from you now only makes him hate himself more, and just like before he’s crumbling beneath you.

Matt: Hey sorry for not getting back to you. Work has been crazy.

It’s reads kind of half assed, and Matthew knows it too. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost two weeks, and you deserved more of an explanation than that, he just couldn’t muster up anything better, so he adds something that actually is true,

Matt: I miss you. When can I see you again?

You hate that it’s so easy to forgive him, but you can’t stay mad at the guy. You know how crazy the hockey season can get from the time that you’ve spent with the Giordano’s and you and Matt weren’t actually together, so you can’t blame him for putting his career above a date with a girl he’s just getting to know. You let yourself justify his silence before texting him back.

y/n: Is right now too soon?

If Matt didn’t have any self control before, he sure as hell didn’t have any now. It’s been at least two weeks since he felt your body against his, and he’s already half hard after reading your message. It’s almost eleven, and even though he knows he shouldn’t do it, he replies to your message and is at your apartment in fifteen minutes.

You only have a sleep shirt and panties on and there’s no holding back when he sees you. When you answer your door, you barely have time to get out the word “hi” before his lips are attached to yours and he’s picking you up with his hands underneath your thighs as he slams your door behind him. You don’t mind the greeting and if the smell of his freshly washed hair and cologne aren’t enough, his touch and his lips are more than intoxicating.

He carries you through your apartment and when he gets to your room he throws you on to the mattress before stripping himself of his shirt while you do the same. When he sees your mostly naked body lying in front of him he has to control himself from going absolutely feral, but you can see the dark look in his eyes and when you move yourself to the edge of the bed you reach for the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. You can sense that you’re both hungry for each other and before he can say anything you’re on your knees in front of him and his hands are gripping through your hair.

You lick down his already hard shaft and when you finally take him in your mouth you can hear him suck in a breath as you hollow your cheeks, letting him hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck baby. You look so fucking good.” He tries to hold back but he can’t help but let his hands that are in your hair guide you up and down his length. Your cheeks are wet with your tears and seeing you so messy, and on your knees for him is enough to bring him closer and closer to his climax.

Before he can spill into your mouth, he abruptly pulls you from him as he tosses you back on to the mattress behind you. His naked body is on top of yours before you can even catch your breath and his lips are attached to yours again as his hands explore your body. When he dips his head down to suck on your breasts it only makes you arch into him, and as one of his hands dips into your soaked panties you know it won’t take him long to get you off.

His thick fingers run slowly through your folds, collecting your wetness before making small circles over your clit, “Fuck you’re so wet,” he says against the skin on your neck. When he dips two fingers into your core you instinctively clench around him and the friction between his fingers and the pressure of his thumb running over your clit are enough to bring you to your climax.

“M-Matty, please.” You beg for him as he guides you over your climax with his fingers. When you’ve ridden out the waves of pleasure, Matt is quick to lick his fingers clean and just as he’s about to bury his face between your thighs you stop him, “No. No, I need you inside me.” And the desperation in your voice only makes him more eager to please you as he pushes inside of you with the roll of his hips.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed the way he filled you that first night you spent together, and your body is giving away just how badly you needed him as you whimper beneath him, letting him set a swift pace while he fucks you into your mattress.

“Fuck baby.”

“F-fuck you feel so good.”

“I missed you.”

Praises fall from his mouth and you hold his eye contact as he says them. The dark blue eyes are mesmerizing, and even though they’re clouded with lust, you swear you can still see the soft, cool blue beneath that want and need.

You continue to surprise him when you push him down and position yourself on top of him, and that look of desire in his eyes only deepens. You start to ride him toward his climax and just as you have him on the edge, that smirk you’ve come to know appears on his face as he flips you back over on to your back. All in one graceful motion he has you underneath him again where he hikes one of your legs up around himself so that he can sink further into you. The kisses and moans are sloppy and needy and his hips snap faster against yours as his thrusts move quicker and harder into you. He fucks you through your orgasm before he spills into the condom that separates the two of you and as you continue to come down from your high you can feel him gently placing open mouthed kisses along your neck.

When the two of you have steadied your breathing and cleaned yourselves up, you both climb back into your bed, and Matt pulls your naked body against his.

“Sorry I went AWOL on you.” He says as he places a tender kiss to the top of your head. He feels horrible about what he did and even though he has no idea how this is going to play out, he knows that there isn’t anywhere else he would rather be.

“It’s okay, just maybe don’t do it again.” You whisper back.

You’re head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around you. Your legs are tangled together, and you can hear the beat of his heart as you start to fall asleep.

“I um, I really like you.” Matt is thankful that you can’t see his face right now and he doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed to admit his feelings for you, but when he says it out loud it feels right.

You smile at his confession. “I really like you too,” you reply but you’re still not sure where this thing with him is going. As much as you don’t want to pull the “what are we” card, this feels like the time you should be asking what he wants out of this thing between the two of you.

“... I’m not expecting anything from you, but I just think we should probably be on the same page as far as what we want, you know?” You whisper against his chest, and you swear you can almost sense his heart rate pick up when you ask. You know he’s a single guy who likes living his bachelor lifestyle, but you also don’t want to end up a casualty of not being on the same page.

“Well what do you want?”

You take a deep breathe and let yourself think for moment, deciding on what to say. “I want to be honest with you and like I said, I really like you. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and this,” you motion to the two of you laying naked in bed together, “is clearly going pretty well... But I also know that I’m more of a relationship girl, I like the commitment and the steadiness of a relationship. This is especially important to me now that I’m also focusing on law school and my career and so if you don’t think that this is going in that direction then I think we should probably call it.” It hurts to admit all of that to him. It hurts to think he’ll probably take this out and even though it would spare you from getting too attached down the road, you would still be upset knowing you had feelings that were more intense than his. But it was the truth, you needed to be serious about your life and your future, and if Matt didn’t want the same things then this wasn’t going to work. There wouldn’t be any point in dragging this out any longer.

He takes in what you’ve said, and as scared as he feels, he also thinks about what so many people in his life have been telling him. They’ve been telling and begging him to find a girl to settle down with and now he’s found you, a girl who has him so wrapped around his finger already who wants something serious and mature, and yet it’s forbidden because his captain and friend won’t have it. How bad could it be though? If you feel the same way he feels about you and being together actually works then how mad could his friends be at him for disobeying their wishes? If you’re both happy together then how could they be mad?

“I think we’re on the same page, babe” he finally says back and even though it was probably only a few seconds it felt like you had been holding your breath for forever. You let out a sigh of relief and again those butterflies are fluttering in your stomach.

You just offer him a soft, “okay.” And you think that the conversation is over so you let your eyes start to doze off before Matt speaks again.

“I think it might be a good idea if we kept this more to ourselves for right now. Media and fans on social media tend to freak out when they think I’m dating someone, so maybe we can just keep this between us for right now?” and although this this is true, he also knows he needs some time to figure out how he’s going to tell Gio about the two of you.

You didn’t think too much about that before, but you realize now that it probably is difficult for him to start a relationship with so many people watching his every move. It’s probably difficult to find someone he can trust and rely on when so many people only want him for who he is on the ice. It makes you feel kind of sad for him and you place a quick kiss on his chest before telling him that it’s absolutely fine to keep things between the two of you. You agree that it would be best to keep things between the two of you and you fall asleep to the sound of Matt’s breathing and the feeling of his thumb tracing small circles across your skin.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #calgary flames #flames

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

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Double Heart | Chapter Eight ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3620

Warnings: Mild language, tw ptsd

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Happy early Thursday morning! Hope you have a good day <3

Cosima’s right arm grips around me like a vice. Her left arm rests gingerly on her leg. Baranor did what he could, but I imagine it is still painful to move the arm around and irritate the injury. To jostle her as little as possible, I ride as smoothly as I can. Faervel seems to sense that he needs to put extra care into the force with which his hooves hit the ground. When we hit an unavoidable jolt, I hear Cosima’s sharp intake of breath and instantly regret causing her pain. At one point, the hand curled against my stomach begins to shake, and I want to stop the horse. I want to pause and look her in the eye and swear to do better next time. I’ll watch more, fight harder, move faster, keep her safe. I want to explain to her my revitalized resolve—nothing will get to her now. She doesn’t need to worry, because I’ll do better.

But of course, I can’t do any of that.

And I definitely shouldn’t. It’s strange, feeling this strongly about the well-being of one measly human. But in truth, I’ve become quite fond of Cosima in our short time together. Maybe it’s because I don’t spend much time with humans, but I find her humor refreshing, her kindness captivating, and her wide range of emotions infuriatingly confusing. I can’t stop myself from seeking her out.

And I can’t stop myself from hoping she decides to return home with us.

I sigh. I should send her to ride with Orophin. I’m paying too much attention to her, thinking too much, allowing myself to become distracted. But the idea of sending her away, of distancing her from my care, makes me to tense. I have a feeling I would be just as distracted if she weren’t behind me. Inwardly, I remind myself to focus on my surroundings, putting it into the frame of keeping my companions safe. The closer we get to the Imladris border—and thus their border patrols—the lower the likelihood of us running into more orcs. As it is, we are too far away for Elrond’s patrols for comfort and I urge myself to remain vigilant. I can’t take any chances.

There’s a noise to my right—just pebbles dislodged by the quick feet of a rabbit, but Cosima’s human senses can’t find the source of the moment. She jumps, clinging even tighter to me, and looks around wildly, breath racing. Without thinking, I take one hand from the reins and wrap it around the hand she holds in a fist against my stomach.

Elves don’t usually engage in physical contact outside of family and romantic partners. At most, warriors will clasp each other at the elbow briefly to commemorate a job well done or to celebrate a victory. But she is human, I reason, trying to puzzle out my strange response. Humans touch each other all the time—they hug each other, hold each other, press kisses to the cheeks of those they care for. Part of comforting a human is offering them a physical lifeline, something tangible and solid that they can hold on to.

“It’s alright,” I try to soothe, not holding out hope that I’m any good at it. The wardens I’ve dedicated my life to don’t usually require soothing. “It’s just a rabbit—I saw it running off. It climbed over the rocks and caused a few of the smaller ones to fall down the hill.”

I wish I could turn around and face her. I want to look into her eyes, study her face, and see if my words have had any effect. I want to know that the fear has left her, see the relief of security smooth the tension in her brow.

She takes a couple deep breaths, and I encourage myself to take them with her. It never hurts to settle one’s heart. Then, a pressure against my shoulder blade. She’s resting her head there, I realize with a start. I stiffen automatically, not at all used to the contact. I try to relax. If it’s what she needs, I can try it. Once I get over the initial shock, I don’t dislike this feeling at all—in fact, it’s quite nice to be here for her like this.

“Okay,” she breathes. She sounds exhausted.

I weigh my options. Could we chance stopping early tonight? Would the rest result in quicker progress tomorrow? No, I decide, knowing the original plan is the best. Each of us will feel better once we are securely inside Elrond’s borders. If that means some discomfort now, so be it.

With that in mind, I push Faervel to go even faster, wanting to race towards Imladris with all haste.

{***}

I see the tension in everyone’s shoulders when we stop to make camp. Each of them carries the weight of this morning’s attack, the human’s most visibly. Since the moment Cosima left my horse, she’s been at Alexander’s side. I was right about human comforting tactics—his arm hangs around her shoulders and she lays her head against his chest. The sight is strange, and a little disquieting. Elves are so unused to seeing such blatant displays of physical affection.

For his part, Alexander also looks quite shaken. His hair, usually well-kept, sticks in all directions and his eyes dart from side to side constantly, never finding rest. He clings to Cosima as tightly as she holds on to him. While the rest of us are seasoned in the unpleasantries of battle, this is their first encounter with violence—that they can recall, that is.

I clear my throat, drawing the attention of the camp. “I will stand first watch with Baranor. Everyone else, get some sleep.” I address my brothers directly, then. “I will wake you at the halfway point.”

We waste no time. Baranor draws his sword and takes the East side of camp. I mirror his stance on the West. We found a relatively secure spot for the night — a small valley with a clearing of grass backed up to a rocky slope of mountainside. There is only one entrance to where the others sleep, unless someone were to jump from the rocks above. To prevent this from happening, Baranor and I pick points high enough that we could see any attempts to either enter our camp or ambush one of our watch stations. Before I know it, the sun sinks over the horizon and we are plunged into darkness.

{***}

Baranor wakes the others, and once Rumil comes to take my spot, I trek the short distance to the center of our camp. I lay on the now unoccupied mat next to the mountainside — across the small area, Baranor has already passed into sleep. Just as I stretch out, getting comfortable, my eyes meet Cosima’s.

She stares at the rock across the small cleaning from her, expression distant and glazed.

I call her name quietly, getting her attention without waking Alexander or disturbing Baranor. She should have nodded off hours ago. “Can you not sleep?”

She shakes her head and, even from here, I can see the exhaustion in her eyes. “It’s silly,” she whispers. I raise my eyebrows, hoping she’ll explain. “I know we’re relatively safe. I know there are always two people on lookout and I know you all have plenty of weapons. But I’m still so scared.” Her voice wavers. “I can’t remember a time in my life when I was attacked like that. Every time I close my eyes I see those…things.” She bites out the word, shuddering. “What were they?”

I sigh. I should have known she wouldn’t find peaceful rest in her current state. I prop myself up on an elbow, trying to make myself seem as assured as possible. My wardens tend to feel more confident when I seem confident—maybe it will help her, too. “They were orcs, some of the most evil beings in this realm.”

“And they wanted to kill us?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What did we do?”

“Nothing,” I shrug, at a loss for the reasoning of those foul beasts. “They are bred for evil, they desire it above all else. If they have the chance to kill, they will take it.”

She shivers again and throws a look over her shoulder towards the entrance of the clearing. “That’s terrifying.”

“They will not get that close to you again,” I swear. I really shouldn’t. I can’t say for sure—they’re no way I can be absolutely positive an orc won’t attack her again. But I do know that as long as it is within my power, I will do everything possible to make what I just said the truth.

She raises an eyebrow dubiously and I know that, even in her fearful and tired state, she sees through the logic in my statement. Even though I was just questioning the validity of my words, I find myself with the overwhelming need to prove them to her—and to myself. I stand, pulling my mat with me, and step around her, dropping the mat between where she lays and the entrance to the clearing.

“There,” I nod, laying back on my mat. “Anything that wants to get to you will have to challenge me first.”

Breath hitches in her throat. Her lip quivers, a shine glints in her eyes. I freeze. Oh Valar, where did I go wrong this time? But when she addresses me—albeit in a shaky voice—she sounds pleased. “You don’t have to do that.”

Relieved that she has one, accepted my offer and two, doesn’t seem to resent me for it, I smile. “It’s my job. Now, please close your eyes and try to fall asleep. I will wake you if there is need.”

She wavers for a moment and I put a hint of my Marchwarden sternness behind the gaze I level back. The edges of her lips quirk into a tentative smile and her eyes slide shut. She pulls her—my— cloak tighter around her shoulders and, in a voice so quiet I can barely hear it, whispers, “thank you.”

I settle on my back, keeping my sword and bow within easy reach, as I do every night. And, though I just told Cosima to go to sleep, I stay awake longer than I intend, watching the stars and listening to the sounds of the mountains. She was right—there is much beauty here. There is no civilization for miles, no hints of light to obscure the vastness of the constellations. As an elfling, I used to love staring at the stars. Even in my early days of the guard and battle, I would pass long nights gazing at the sky. When did I stop? When did the love of beauty for beauty’s sake leave me?

I hear the deep, even breaths indicating a human has fallen asleep and know that Cosima has finally given in to her exhaustion. I follow not long after, the soft light of the stars falling away behind my closed eyes.

{***}

The day is marked by easy travel. By my estimate, we will reach Imladris sometime tomorrow evening. It cannot come quickly enough.

Just as the sun is starting to set, we come across a small cave I have used in the past when traveling with various companies. Orophin sees it too and gives a triumphant call from his spot in the line. A cave means we can chance a fire, which means we can have meat tonight—if we can catch it.

About five hundred feet from the cave, I dismount, signaling for Orophin to do the same. I hand the reins to Cosima, give Faervel a quick pat, and raise my voice loudly enough for the others to hear. “We’ll make sure the cave is clear—the rest of you, wait here.”

The nerves, which seemed dormant in Cosima for the majority of the day, creep back into her features. Her hold on the reins tightens. I attempt to reassure her. “We’ll be back in five minutes. Stay with the others.”

I want to stay longer, to stay by her side until she feels safe, but I know it will be better for everyone once we’re settled in the cave. So I draw my sword and join Orophin at the yawning entrance.

The cave is too small to be used long-term, so it is commonly claimed by travelers who only intend to stay the night. The ceiling is plenty high for humans, but as elves, Orophin and I must take care not to stretch too high. In some places, I can feel the smooth rock graze the top of my head, dragging strands of hair out of place. But aside from that mild annoyance, no threats lie inside and I hurry to return to the others and give them the good news.

Rumil, knowing the expression on my face, grins and hops down from Roch, setting the horse to graze while he excitedly enters the cave to drop his packs. I roll my eyes, though not without fondness, at my brother’s exuberance. I quicken my pace, eager to settle the others for the night and go hunting so we can have a proper meal. As soon as I set Cosima’s feet on the ground and put Faervel to graze, I can go in search of rabbits or squirrels.

I am a few feet from Cosima when Alexander steps into my line of sight. He reaches his arms up to his friend. She smiles warmly at him, places her hands on his shoulders, and lets him ease her down from the horse. It’s a bit jerky, honestly, and I worry that her feet hit the ground with too much force. One has to be careful when helping another down from a higher place—if not, the person could suffer injury. Careless.

“Alexander,” I call. He looks put out but nonetheless inclines his head in my direction. “Leave your supplies in the cave and then meet me out here. I am taking you with me to hunt.”

He sputters. “What? No! I’m tired and I don’t even want to learn how to hunt. Take one of your brothers.”

I feel my eyes narrow. “Regardless if you would like to face the facts or not, you are in this world. And as such, you will need to learn skills to aid your time here, however long that may be. Cosima has learned how to care for the horses and ride and scout her surroundings. You will learn to hunt.” The human tries to protest again, and I raise my chin, none too pleased with having to justify my decision. “As long as you are under my care you will follow my orders. Am I clear?”

Beside him, Cosima’s eyes grow wide. She darts her gaze between myself and Alexander, watching our exchange. I raise an eyebrow at the man. It will not be me who breaks first. I have centuries of practice.

Predictably, Alexander cracks, breaking my gaze and nodding stiffly. He pulls away from Cosima and stalks into the cave, taking a few bags with him.

Baranor passes me on his way up the path—I’d nearly forgotten he was here. He lowers his voice to a volume the humans won’t detect. “He is not one of your wardens, Haldir.”

“As long as he travels in my company, he travels under my command,” I grit back, more frustration in my tone than is necessary. I work to push the emotion aside and stride forward, dealing with Faervel while I wait for Alexander.

Cosima hasn’t left. She stands, dwarfed by Faervel’s tall frame, gently brushing out his coat. There’s tension in her shoulders and I approach her almost hesitantly. I think I angered her.

She quickly confirms my suspicions.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to him.” She doesn’t take her eyes from my horse.

I purse my lips. I just need to make her understand. “He was being insubordinate.”

“Okay, but he’s not your subordinate,” she shoots back, voice rising in irritation.

I don’t quite know what to say. These humans don’t know how my job works, so their reaction is to be expected….But even Baranor commented on my behavior…was I wrong? Even if I did perhaps misuse my tone, I still can’t have someone openly refusing to do what I say. It’s a matter of security. Say he disobeyed me in the heat of battle? Someone could pay for his choice with their life. I can’t allow situations to pass now that would embolden him to disobey me later.

Cosima sighs, shaking her head. When she speaks, her voice is tight with disapproval. “I’ll finish the horses. You get to your hunt.”

I swallow. It seems I’ve angered her to the point where she wishes to cast me from her presence. I must respect that, then. “I will send Rumil to guard you.”

She nods once, still not looking at me.

I spare her one last glance then make towards the cave, feeling very unsure of myself. As Marchwarden, I’ve learned to make difficult, sometimes unpopular, decisions. People’s reaction to them usually doesn’t bother me…but something about the way Cosima wouldn’t even look at me, the frustration in her tone…it doesn’t sit well.

Rumil is already at the mouth of the cave, headed outside with a snack for Roch. I instruct him to stay with Cosima while I am gone, and he agrees easily. The two of them have been friends from the start. I’d wager he has never upset her as I have.

Alexander is waiting, too, looking annoyed. I try to remind myself to be nicer towards him, but can’t quite manage it. Something about his demeanor just irks me. But the hunting excursion will be good, I remind myself. It will allow me to get a better read on this human, to figure out where he stands and what his motivations are. With that in mind, I jerk my head to the rocks, calling him forward. “Let’s go.”

{***}

I don’t take Alexander far, but we do have to leave the noise of camp to find animals suitable for food. The human trudges behind me, probably scaring away every rodent within a mile. Why must the race of man be so loud?

“Roll your foot from heel to toe when you walk rather than stomping down,” I instruct. To my surprise, he actually follows my advice. He’s still not as silent as an elf, but there is definitely an improvement.

A silence settles between us. When he breaks it, there is a vulnerability in his voice I did not expect to hear. “Is Cosima really going to be okay?”

Baranor had assured me of the fact and I know from my years of battle that the wound is not severe, so I am confident in my answer. “Yes. I think more damage was done to her feelings than her arm. She takes things quite deeply to heart. It will take time for those scars to heal.”

I’ve offended him. He scoffs, expression morphing into a glare. “And that’s bad?”

Now, I grit my teeth. He seems always on the prowl for some reason to dislike me, and I don’t appreciate him twisting my words about Cosima to use against me. I throw his accusation right back. “I am not the one questioning her intelligence and calling her naive.”

“That’s taken out of context!”

“And in what context are your words favorable?”

He seethes, and I find a strand of amusement in the differences between our demeanors. I stand calm and cool as ever while he glares up at me, mouth pulled into a grimace, face going hot in anger.

“You know what,” he grits out, hands clenching into fists. “Don’t go on defending her. Don’t get too attached. Because after yesterday, I’ve got no doubt in my mind that I’m getting out of here. And Cosima’s coming with me.”

I scoff. “You cannot force her.”

“I won’t have to.” He exhales, an assured serenity settling on his face. For the first time since our argument began, I feel wary. “That attack broke whatever spell you all have put on her. She’ll leave willingly. I guarantee it.”

Maybe it’s the arrogant twist in his smile, maybe it’s the stress of the day finally hitting me, maybe it’s just because he’s been an ass since the day he arrived and I would like nothing more than to knock him to the ground and teach him to have some respect. Whatever the reason, I feel the cold dread creeping through my bones colliding with a white-hot anger that sears through my chest. It takes everything in me not to let the composed mask slip from my face.

Despite my efforts, Alexander knows he’s hit his mark. He can tell he’s gotten a reaction out of me, and this pleases him to no end. He waves a hand forward, gesturing to the wide expanse of the path before us. “Lead on, Marchwarden. People need to eat.”

I want to challenge him.

But that is not respectable behavior of a leader, nor polite treatment of a human under my protection. So I call on every ounce of maturity and discipline I possess and turn on my heel, continuing the hunt.

And though we have good fortune in our search and I should be pleased, I am too focused on Alex’s promise to share in the enjoyment.

Cosima choosing to leave is a very real possibility.

And that hurts me more than it should.

A/n Thanks for reading! So it looks like we’re having some ~developments~ -- what do you think?! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 21

A/N: I’ve always wanted to write a super-tropey scene like the bar scene in this so I went ahead and did it and I LOVE IT, OKAY?! Also, if you haven’t seen, I posted Part 3 of my Elias story last Thursday. It’s linked on my Masterlist!

Also, just a quick note that I will be returning to a full-time job after Labour Day today. I have enough chapters written out that I don’t think I will have to skip a week of posting, and I organize my time wisely so that I still give myself time to write, but this is just a PSA/FYI that I may not get to your asks/canon questions super quickly like I have been over quarantine. They will still ALL be answered, though, so don’t worry about that!

Anyways, enjoy this!

February 18th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was dejected.

The Leafs had lost their last two games, but these felt different. They’d lost to Buffalo on Sunday 5-2, and Buffalo was one of the worst teams in the league. It didn’t even matter that there were a majority of Leaf fans in the building. Now, tonight, they’d just lost 5-2 again, but this time to Pittsburgh. She couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone, with tweet upon tweet upon tweet calling this the worst game of the season for the team. Just an absolutely awful game. No effort. No heart. No soul. One that they would have to answer for at home, since they faced them again on Thursday, but this time at home. She didn’t even like hockey and she was taking everything to heart because, well – she was part of the team now. Everybody had told her that since day one. And now, at one of the lowest points in the season, she felt that.

She couldn’t stop scrolling. Couldn’t stop reading what everybody was saying.

It was Tyson who had volunteered to drive her home tonight. Ever since Morgan broke his ankle, it was a rotation of Tyson or John. When Emma picked up Tyson, she was just as nice, but she missed Bee. She missed seeing the way Morgan looked at Bee when they were in the car, because it reminded her of how William looked at her when they were alone.

Aberdeen shuffled into the backseat of Tyson’s SUV. Tyson was in the driver’s seat, and Emma was the passenger. Everyone was silent as Tyson began driving into the city – she and Emma could tell he was dejected and mad at the game that had transpired just a few hours ago. The short flight did nothing to quell his emotions. And as Emma laid her hand on his on the gearshift, Aberdeen watched as she moved her thumb back and forth, trying to tell him that it was all okay.

“Tys…it’s not your fault,” Emma said softly, finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

“Em—”

“Tyson, listen to me.”

“—Emma, please, not right now—”

His eyes flashed to hers through the rear view mirror, but Emma wouldn’t listen to him. “I know it and you know it too. The whole defence is flawed. Plus, you guys are missing Mo. It’s not just you and you know that—”

“—Emma, I really don’t want to talk about it right now—”

“—and besides, if – or should I say when – you’re traded at the deadline, none of this will matter,” she dropped a bombshell. “Everyone knows you’re unhappy and it’s not working out and that you’re much better suited to play somewhere else.”

Aberdeen felt her body stiffen at the revelation. So Tyson was unhappy. Unhappy with playing on the Leafs. She knew he wasn’t having the best season, especially considering how successful he’d been in Colorado, but she didn’t think it was that bad. He’d gotten better when Sheldon came in, but apparently that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make him happy. And in Aberdeen’s life, happiness was important. It was almost paramount. What you did and who you surrounded yourself with and your work should, ultimately, make you happy. Was it the same in hockey? Were hockey players allowed to be happy? Were hockey players on the Toronto Maple Leafs allowed to be happy? Or was everything just a business transaction? A long road to the ultimate success of lifting the Stanley Cup, regardless of who got hurt along the way?

Tyson let out a long sigh as he continued to drive, choosing not to answer his girlfriend or say anything else. When they got off the Gardiner and into downtown, Aberdeen was almost desperate to get out. She felt very awkward. Clearly Emma and Tyson wanted, needed to have a conversation, and she was stopping that from happening. Just by being in the backseat. She almost wanted to just tuck and roll out of the car. Tyson could return her suitcase later. She really didn’t care at this point.

When he pulled up outside her condo building, Aberdeen almost didn’t want until he stopped the car and put it in park to click her seatbelt off. “Hey Aberdeen,” Tyson looked at her through the rear view mirror. She paused all her movements to stare back at him through the mirror. “I uh…I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention to Brendan, uh, you know…what you heard…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen stared back at him doe-eyed. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t…I don’t tell Brendan about anything I find out about you guys. I mean I would never…” she said softly, trailing off too.

Tyson nodded, smiling slightly. “Thanks, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

When she got out of the car, Tyson popped the trunk so she could get her bag. After one last thank you, a polite wave, and a push of the button to get it to close, she walked into her condo building. She nodded towards the security guard before walking towards the elevators.

She wondered if William felt that same way when he played last year.

***

February 20th, 2020

“Get ‘em!” Aberdeen growled as she looked down onto the ice. “Get ‘em!!!”

Brendan chuckled as he watched Aberdeen, her hands balled up in fists as she practically hung over the box. He’d never seen her so into a hockey game before, and he didn’t know what had gotten into her. “You alright, Aberdeen?”

“Get ‘em!”

He got a kick out of it. Kyle, too, was doing one of those silent chuckles and getting redder by the second. “Aberdeen, you’re going to blow your heart out. We’re gonna need to put you on meds,” Brendan commented. “You gotta remember that you’re staying until the proofs get here. You can’t waste all your energy now.”

Aberdeen calmed down a bit, but she was still on the edge of her seat. “Sorry,” she said. She knew she was maybe taking it a bit overboard, but she couldn’t help it. After the awful game against the Penguins on Tuesday, the Leafs were dominating them right now. Freddie was playing phenomenally, Jake Muzzin had just scored to put them up 1-0, and they were getting really good chances. It’s like the team did a complete 180 from what they were. She also knew, though, that she needed to stay at the arena later tonight, because the final proofs for the St. Pats jerseys were coming and she was the one who had to sign for them and place them safely and securely in Brendan’s office to see tomorrow. She didn’t know how long she’d be up tonight, and she’d need to conserve energy.

“Don’t apologize. I just don’t want you to have a heart attack,” Brendan smiled.

With the Leafs on a powerplay, Aberdeen was like a hawk following the puck. With Tavares, Matthews, and Nylander on the ice, she was praying for a goal. And then—

“YES!!!!!” she screamed as William scored a beautiful goal, jumping up in her seat and throwing her fist in the air like she was Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club. From beside her, Brendan and Kyle stayed unnaturally calm. Aberdeen looked over at them and tried to settle back into her seat calmly. “Sorry. Again,” she said, gripping the armrests of her chair. “But how can you guys be so calm?!”

“You get used to it,” Brendan smiled.

“Well, maybe you do, Mr. Hockey Player,” Aberdeen joked.

“Especially when the camera is on you,” Kyle added.

Aberdeen’s face dropped. “Oh my God, I’m not on camera, am I?!”

Kyle shook his head, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “We’ll have to see, Aberdeen, but I don’t think so.”

The Leafs dominated the rest of game. Kasperi scored another goal only three minutes after William, and Zach scored in the third to make it 4-0. Freddie got the shutout. She knew he’d be happy about that, despite his stoic reserve. As she, Brendan, and Kyle made their way to the locker room, Aberdeen saw the media already speaking to Jake Muzzin. She knew they’d want to speak with the goal scorers too, and so when she saw William and Kasperi heading to the media room, along with John, Freddie, and Sheldon, she wasn’t surprised. It was a good game. Hopefully the media would back down a bit.

She congratulated the guys and stood on the sidelines as Brendan and Kyle spoke to some of them once the media left. By that point, some of them were dressed and ready to head home. “Hey, you want a ride?” Jason offered as he approached her, tightening his tie around his neck.

“Oh, I’m staying back, actually,” Aberdeen informed him. He looked at her skeptically. “The final proofs are coming in for your St. Pats jerseys in March and I have to receive them and put them in Brendan’s office under lock and key.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Well, I can wait with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aberdeen, it’s fine. We can grab a bite to eat afterwards.”

“Jason, I might be here until, like, eleven.”

“So we’ll have an authentic Italian-style dinner then. All the more reason since I miss my motherland.”

“Jason—”

“Aberdeen, are you really going to say no me?”

She glared at him. It was like St. John’s all over again. Before she could open her mouth and say something else, another voice interrupted her. “Why’re you giving Jason the stink eye?” William asked as he approached them.

“I’m gonna wait with Aberdeen until the proofs come and then we’re gonna grab dinner. You in?” he asked William, but everybody already knew the answer.

William shrugged his shoulders casually, like Jason hadn’t just invited him to dinner with his own girlfriend. “I’m in.”

Aberdeen rolled her eyes. “You two are insufferable.”

“I like to think it’s part of our charm,” Jason smiled. “Let me call Jen and then we can go trash Brendan’s office.”

*** It was about 10:45 when Aberdeen, Jason, and William ended up at a small bar none of them had ever been to that served small pub-style plates. It was crowded, for some reason, even though it was a Thursday. Aberdeen quickly learned, judging by the drink specials, that it was their grand opening weekend, and tonight was their first official night open. Opening on a Thursday meant pandering to the university crowd for sure (whose pub nights usually took place on Thursdays), but this place was pretty full with an older, gruffier clientele that were seated at the bar and congregated in small groups around the open space in the centre of the room, away from the few booths against the wall. She wondered if they marketed the place wrongly, or if they just wanted to fill the place so they could say they had a successful opening.

It was a bit loud, but she, Jason, and William ate their late dinner in relative peace. They spoke about the game only for a little bit before they moved on to other topics, making it abundantly clear to Aberdeen that they didn’t want to discuss hockey at all. The food was fine, and so, too, were the beers William and Jason had, but Aberdeen’s Long Island Iced Tea had way too much rum in it so she couldn’t finish.

By the time they finished, it was almost midnight and Aberdeen was starting to feel her fatigue. They were told to pay at the bar, so they gathered their jackets. Aberdeen insisted on paying for her meal, ever going so far as to run up to the bar herself, inching between some patrons in order to pay, before William or Jason could even get out of the booth. William, however, was right behind her, ready to Jason’s meal on his card.

“H—Hey! Hey! Look what we have here! Y-You’re Wiiiilliam Nylander,” a guy, older and very clearly inebriated, slurred out as he laid his eyes on them.

“That’s me,” William gave a tight-lipped smile, standing just slight behind Aberdeen, waiting his turn to pay.

The drunk guy focused his attention on Jason now. “You. Spezza.”

“Yup.”

He turned back towards William, shaking his head. “Teams like this can’t win the Cup. Esp-p-ecially not with this guy around.”

That caught Aberdeen’s attention. She furrowed her brows as the friend of the guy, obviously just as drunk, nodded his head in agreement. “Don’t have the heart like Dougie or Wendel. All a bunch of pussies now. Especially you.”

Aberdeen pulled her card out of the reader dramatically, turning her body so she could face them head on. “What the hell is your problem? There’s no need to be rude,” she said, her voice loud and firm.

“Aberdeen, stop it,” William said loud enough for her to hear.

“Y-Y-Yyyyou shoulda just sssigned the contract, man,” the drunk man grumbled out.

Aberdeen tried again, ignoring William’s plea. “Sir, this isn’t the time or place,” she intervened, but William’s hands went straight to her waist to move her out of his way so she wasn’t standing in between them anymore.

Suddenly, it was William closer to the drunk man that Aberdeen. The drunk guy apparently didn’t like that very much. “You’re damn – you’re damn selfish! Ssssselfish and greedyyyy,” the man continued to slur drunkenly. “Seeeelfish, no good—”

“Sir—” Aberdeen showed up beside William, refusing to stand behind him.

“I oughta hurt you like you hurt the fffranchise.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened. That was a threat if she ever heard one, and even though he was drunk, Aberdeen didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Okay sir,” she chastised. “You need to stop overreacting. We’re just here trying to pay for our meal. This is no time to be a dick.”

“You know what? Let’s just pay at the other end of the bar,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. He even started to herd William and Aberdeen away from the drunk man and down the opposite end of the bar. “You have fun with whatever whiskey you’re drinking,” he gave one last look to the man before walking away himself.

“Fuckin’ pussy!” the friend yelled loudly at William, already half way down the bar now.

Aberdeen looked back. William had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her through the crowd so she’d get to the other side with him. She watched as one of them slammed his glass down on the bar dramatically. “Willy—”

“Ignore them, Aberdeen.”

“Yeeeeeah, fuckin’ pussy! Fuckin’ lowlife! Worst Leaf on the team! Shoulda traded you back to Sweden, ya Swedish piece of shit!”

The men continued to yell obscenities and taunt William as they stood at the other end of the bar. Aberdeen stared at William as he stuck his credit card into the machine, quickly punching in his pin. “Does that happen often?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Aberdeen, don’t,” he shook his head, refusing to answer her as he pulled his card out of the machine and stuffed it back into his wallet. It was as if he didn’t want her to know; as if he wanted to protect her from learning just how awful some “fans” could be – at least to him.

“Did you pay?” Jason showed up beside them. William nodded. “Alright, then let’s get the hell out of here,” he ordered, herding them again to lead them out.

It all happened so fast that Aberdeen didn’t really know exactly that – what happened. All she knew was that she heard the guy yell from down the bar. Then she heard the breaking of glass (commonplace in bars, really) and someone else yell “Put it down!” as she, Jason, and William continued towards the door. Then another voice screamed “Watch out!” and she, Jason, and William turned their heads to look behind them.

Then it hit her.

Literally.

A glass had been thrown – obviously by one of the drunk men who had been harassing them – intended for William, but it hit Aberdeen right on the forehead instead. She staggered backwards but didn’t fall. As she brought her hand up to assess the damage, she could almost immediately feel blood dripping down the side of her eye.

“Aberdeen!” Jason screamed.

William looked over and saw the blood on Aberdeen’s hand and it dripping down the side of her face. His eyes filled with anger. Jason, who was still looking at Aberdeen, saw the look she was giving William. He whipped his head towards William, who appeared ready to murder everybody in the room. “Will—William—” Jason tried to get his attention, but to no avail.

“Ohmygodareoyouokaaaaay?!” voices began to ask as they huddled around Aberdeen, William, and Jason worriedly, forming a protective circle around them. There were so many people, so concerned and so loud asking if she was okay that Aberdeen couldn’t even respond – she was too overwhelmed and too confused to even comprehend what was going on.

That’s when the two men ran out. When most of the people in the bar were distracted trying to see if Aberdeen was okay, the men had the wherewithal to completely book it out of the bar with nobody stopping them. It was only William who noticed, screaming out a loud “HEY!” to try and get somebody’s attention to stop them, but nobody moved enough for him to get out of the scrum around Aberdeen to chase him. William focused his attention back on Aberdeen even though he could feel his cheeks flush red with anger and tears forming in his eyes. She was still holding the area above her eyebrow cautiously as the bartender waved her over. Jason and William led her towards the bar, making sure she didn’t step on any of the shattered glass that now littered the floor. The bartender was already opening the first aid kit. William heard Jason tell everyone “It’s fine, it’s fine, we don’t need your help, it’s alright, we’ll handle it, we’ll handle it.”

Aberdeen was offered a bar stool to sit on, but she turned it down. She didn’t want to be on display for everyone to see; she was already embarrassed enough as is. “You wanna go into a washroom?” the bartender asked, and Aberdeen nodded her head. He led them to the wheelchair bathroom, since there would be space for all of them, and ushered them in. “The emergency rooms are just up the street. They’ll do stitches.”

William glared at the bartender. “Aren’t you even gonna call a paramedic or something? What about the cops?” he demanded, his voice shaking from the anger he was still feeling. “Can we look at security cameras to get a face?”

“Bro, we don’t want cops or paramedics here opening night. That would kill us,” the bartender said. William couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We don’t have cameras installed yet, either. Just clean it up and take it to emerge. It’s, like, two blocks north.”

William felt like punching the bartender square in the jaw. And he would have, too, for being so insensitive about it, if it wasn’t for Jason opening the first aid box loudly against the counter. Jason, for his part, glared at the bartender too. “You can leave now,” he growled, focusing his attention back on finding what he needed within the kit. “Useless piece of shit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Aberdeen sat on the toilet, trying to collect her thoughts and emotions. She’d gotten hit with a fucking flying glass in the middle of a bar. A glass seemingly intended for Willy, thrown by a drunk guy, but it had hit her. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She was sure her hand was covered in blood at this point; she didn’t even want to know what her face looked like. “Did I get busted open?” she asked, even though she was well aware of the answer. She needed someone else to confirm it so this all felt real and not like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” Jason said softly. “Listen, if that dipshit isn’t gonna call the cops or paramedics, I want to clean it before we go to the walk-in. Your face has a lot of blood on it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head slightly. There was nothing else she could do, really. It wasn’t like she was going to reject any medical attention, from Jason or otherwise. “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked.

“Of course it’ll hurt, but I don’t want any of the blood to crust and dry,” he said.

“Am I gonna need stitches? I’ve never gotten stitches before.”

“Move your hand a bit and let me see,” Jason said. She moved her hand the slightest bit, too scared to move it anymore out of fear that blood would gush out like some Halloween decoration, and Jason looked up close. “Yeah, probably,” he deadpanned. William winced at the thought.

“Oh, Jesus. Is it gonna scar?”

“No. Not deep enough to scar. At least not to me,” he said. She trusted him, if only because he was a father of four and had been around the block a few times. He cleaned her face as much as he could of the blood that had streamed down. She watched as he got some alcohol and put it onto a pad, prepped a sterile gauze, and whatever else he needed. Now, are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess so,” Aberdeen braced herself. She took her hand off the injury, relieved that no blood gushed onto Jason’s shirt. “On three, okay?” she asked. Jason nodded his head. She began to count. “One…two—”

She let out a guttural scream as Jason put the rubbing alcohol on her early so she wouldn’t wince away. It fucking stung. The sound that escaped her made Will’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He never wanted to hear it again. When he looked over, she was writhing on the toilet seat. Even Jason’s face was pained at her screams, but he was doing what he needed to do. After doing as much as he could, he took one last look at it before putting the sterile gauze on it, grabbing Aberdeen’s hand to hold it against the cut.

“You ready to go to emerge?” Jason asked.

Tears had streamed down her face at this point. She didn’t have a good tolerance for pain. She nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

***

It was just past two in the morning before an emergency room doctor saw Aberdeen. Jason had called Jen to let her know what happened and let her know that he was going to be extra late, and William…well, William was silent. He was still red with rage as they sat in the emergency room, with Jason and Aberdeen making conversation, but he was silent. Truthfully, all Aberdeen wanted to do was hug him, hold his hand, and nestle into him, but she couldn’t. It would have made things a hundred times better, but Jason being there meant that it was impossible. She noticed William’s silence from the moment they were in the washroom at the awful place and Jason had cleaned the wound. She was hoping that he wasn’t blaming himself.

“So, Miss Bloom, what happened here?” Dr. Behari asked as she sat on the gurney, Jason and William standing near her with their arms crossed.

“Some guy at a bar threw a glass and it hit me,” Aberdeen explained simply. “I think I’m going to need stitches.”

The doctor nodded, then looked towards Jason and William. “And you’re her bodyguards?” he joked.

Jason smiled, but William didn’t. “Friends,” Jason said. “I cleaned it up a bit with rubbing alcohol at the bar, doctor. I – It was the only thing I could think to do.”

The doctor nodded, stepping closer towards Aberdeen. “Let me take a look, Miss Bloom, and I can clean it and see if you need stitches.” Aberdeen took her hand and the gauze off the cut and the doctor put on his gloves. “Aallllllright…” he mumbled as he checked it, Aberdeen wincing in pain slightly as he pressed down on it. “You’ve got no residual glass in it, which is great. All we have to do is clean it up and give you some stitches.”

The thought of stitches made Aberdeen a bit woozy. She tried not to think about what they’d have to do. “Is it a deep cut? Like is it gonna scar?” she asked.

“Not a deep cut at all,” the doctor shook his head. “I’m only putting it one layer of stitches. You’ll probably have the slightest scar once it’s all healed but it’s easily covered with makeup, and due to placement, it won’t be too noticeable.” Suddenly, the curtain that blocked off the room opened, and some supplies and medical equipment were ushered in. Jason and William looked to see everything that Dr. Behari would need laid out on the tray. “Ah! Here we go. Have you ever received stitches before, Miss Bloom?”

“No sir.”

“Think of it as me putting this beautiful masterpiece of a face back together,” he joked, causing Aberdeen and Jason to laugh. William still wasn’t laughing, and Jason took notice.

“You’re great, Doctor Behari,” Aberdeen giggled. “I’m gonna get a scar like a real hockey player now.”

“Ahhhhh, so you guys are hockey players, huh?” he gestured towards Jason and William. “I’ve stitched up a bad hockey injury once or twice in my day.”

Dr. Behari continued with what he needed to do, cleaning up the wound and making sure everything was well and prepped for the stitches. The second he picked up the needle filled with lidocaine though, to numb the area so Aberdeen wouldn’t feel the stitches as much, William became more visibly upset. For the last two hours he looked like he was about to cry, and now he just looked extremely pained, distressed at the thought of what Aberdeen had to go through.

It took Jason intervening for William to stop thinking over and over about when the glass met Aberdeen’s head; the look in her eyes and the blood on her face as she tried to stop the bleeding with her hand. “Will, can you breathe for me?” he mumbled, Aberdeen and Dr. Behari too deep in a conversation to hear them.

William started shaking his head. “He needs to be arrested. He needs to be charged with assault. We need to find him,” his voice was still trembling.

“Will, we’re not gonna find him. He ran off,” Jason tried to reason with him. “There aren’t even any cameras we can check – the manager said. We just have to let it go.”

“No. That’s not good enough,” William was persistent. “We need to—”

“Listen to me,” Jason said in a low voice, grabbing William’s forearm and turning him away from Aberdeen and the doctor. They stood right in between the hallway and the curtain sectioning off the room. “I understand this is personal for you because it’s Aberdeen, but you need to be level-headed right now, because as much as the doctor is making her laugh, she’s gonna see the stitches and probably get scared. And she’s going to be looking at you to help calm her down and tell her it will be alright.”

William stopped breathing during the first part of Jason’s sentence. He furrowed his brows, trying to brush it off, and brush off what Jason was implying. “I don’t know what you mean about this being personal for me—”

“Will, come on,” Jason interrupted him. “I’m too old to be fucked with. We all see the way that you look at her and we know you have the biggest crush imaginable on her. It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

“H—How do I look at her?”

“She’s the only person you ever see, Will,” Jason deadpanned. “But…beyond that. You have to remember Brendan’s gonna be asking questions tomorrow at the office. I’ll handle a majority of that but he’s going to want the story from you too and you better be on your best behaviour or else he’ll figure out your little crush and Aberdeen will be fucked. Do you understand?”

William couldn’t look Jason in the eye anymore. He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, knowing that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I think he already knows…” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I think…Brendan already knows about the crush. At the Christmas party out on the ice I guess he caught me looking and he told me she can’t do anything with me until she leaves, and more importantly, I can’t do anything with her.”

Jason looked like he’d seen a ghost. “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you doing anything with her?”

Here it was. William’s first opportunity to lie outright to a teammate, a friend, a colleague, a guy that he looked up to immensely. Aberdeen had had to do it with Siena, now he’d have to do it with Jason. His girlfriend was a mere fifteen feet away and he had to deny that anything was going on. “What?! Of course not!” he said angrily.

“William I swear to fucking God—"

“Nothing is happening,” he stressed. “Jesus, Jason. How awful do you think I am? I wouldn’t do something like that to her.”

“Don’t fuck with me Willy. She’s got too bright a future for you to—”

“I know that,” William stressed. “I. Know. That. That’s why nothing has happened. That’s why it’s stayed a crush.”

“You promise me right here, right now, in the middle of this hospital while she’s getting stitches, that there’s nothing going on between you two, or so help me God, Willy—”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” William said bluntly. He saw Jason’s face relax slightly, meaning that he was buying it. “I’ve got my crush and that’s it. But there’s nothing going on between us. Nothing.”

“Woohoo! Boys!” Dr. Behari called out, interrupting their conversation. “Miss Bloom wants to hold one of your big strong hands just in case she feels anything. Any takers?”

Jason raised his eyebrows at William and gave him a look. William gave Jason one last look before walked over, stood next to Aberdeen, and offered his hand. She grabbed it without hesitation.

Jason watched.

***

February 22nd, 2020

“What in God’s name happened to your eye?” Brendan demanded as he got his first look at Aberdeen Saturday morning. In the town car, Lou had already commented on it. Now Brendan got to see it, bright and early in the morning before heading towards the office.

“It’s a long story,” Aberdeen mumbled.

“Well we’ve got a long drive to the office.”

She sighed. She recounted the events of the previous night to Brendan, from Jason and William agreeing to stay back with her, to them going to dinner, to the rude men, to the bottle throwing. Brendan looked more and more horrified as time went on, and especially angry when she got to the part with the rude men. They were essentially targeting one of his players, one of his star players, with assault; instead, that assault ended up hurting his executive assistant. And when she mentioned the no cameras and the clueless bartender, he got really angry, because there was nothing he could do either.

“And so, here we are,” Aberdeen finished. “I’m three days out from my 22nd birthday and one week out from my party and I have a giant scar on my face.”

Brendan could tell by her tone that she wasn’t necessarily upset about it, per se, but that she was more so a bit self-conscious about how it looked. “It’s not that big,” he said, trying to not make it a big deal. “The stitches will be out soon anyway. You don’t want to see some of the scars I’ve gotten. I mean…” he trailed off, pointing to the one on his top lip and the one on his chin, “yours won’t look as bad as these. Won’t end up as bad as these either.”

“You don’t think so?”

Brendan shook his head. “No chance. It’s only three stitches. Did you tell your parents?”

“Yeah, we FaceTimed so I could show them. They don’t want me in bars past sundown now,” she giggled slightly. “I’m going to have to go to my doctor before we leave for Tampa Bay to see if they can get taken out though. By then it will have been four days. The emergency room doctor said it should be okay by then.”

“I’ll call Noah and have him take a look at it once we get to the arena,” he said, referring to Dr. Noah Forman, the team’s head physician. “I’ll call Jason and Will in, too. To let me know what happened.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. It was only logical to talk to them about it to. William had been the one targeted, after all. “Are you excited for tonight?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Brendan shrugged. “Last time we faced Carolina it was an…interesting game,” he said. “How much more interesting can it get?”

***

Aberdeen was absolutely horrified. Just absolutely fucking horrified at what was transpiring in front of her very eyes. A complete and utter collapse. Something that couldn’t be real. Something she didn’t want to be real. Something that was affecting her more than she ever thought hockey would. If Aberdeen thought that Penguins game on Tuesday was bad, this was a hundred times worse. A thousand. A million. A billion times worse.

The Leafs were losing to the Hurricanes. 6-3. And who was in net for the Carolina Hurricanes? Their emergency backup goalie, who was, somehow, also the Toronto Marlies’ Zamboni driver. Yes. The Toronto Maple Leafs were losing to a Zamboni driver. Their own Zamboni driver.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Brendan had already left the box. He’d asked her not to follow him. That made her incredibly nervous, because usually when he was upset or disappointed about games, she was still following him like a little puppy. That wasn’t the case now; he clearly wanted to be alone and alone he would be, wherever he happened to be.

When the final buzzer rang, Aberdeen felt her heart rate go up even more, because it now meant that she did have to go find him. She didn’t want to be in the locker room right now. The team needed to be with their coach, and she didn’t exactly want to hear whatever was going to go down in there. She wanted to remain willfully ignorant. So instead, she began walking towards the offices, where a part of her knew Brendan would be.

She was quiet as she walked down the hallway and towards her desk. She saw Brendan’s door almost closed, and knew he was inside his office. She gathered her things, grabbed her jacket, and took a deep breath.

She knocked lightly on his office door. “Come in,” she heard him say absent-mindedly.

She pushed the door open slowly. When she revealed herself in the doorway, Brendan’s eyebrows rose slightly. He was surprised she’d come and find him. But he didn’t want her to know that. Most other personal assistants he’d had usually let him be when he did something like this. But Aberdeen was different. “Oh, there you are,” he said, his voice low as he cleared his throat. There were a few moments of silence as he thought of something to say. “We need to go over the, uh…the proofs for the St. Pats jerseys,” he held out his hand.

Aberdeen was nervous. He was a bit too calm for her liking, considering what had just happened. She knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it exactly, but still. “Okay. Um, yeah, sure. I have it right here,” she said as she began digging through her bag with all the files in it. There were so many to sort through, and she knew she was taking a while.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me,” Brendan said.

She pulled the proofs out of her bag and handed them to him. He took them, a bit dramatically she thought, and opened them up. “Okay, so…they’re done. They can be sent,” he said dismissively, putting his signature at the bottom of every page of proofs.

Aberdeen was shocked, slightly. There was so much back and forth on them because they had to be perfect and now he’d just signed off on them? “They…they’re done? So I don’t need to bring them back to the artist and fetch them back tomorrow?” she began to pull out her iPad so she could change her schedule.

“Well, if you think the team is worthy of even wearing these jerseys and want to convince me to not just scrap the whole damn idea…then yes, fetch away. You’re very fetching, so go fetch,” he grumbled out with a resolute emotion of nothingness in his voice.

Aberdeen stopped her movements. Okay, so he was affected by what had just happened. And he was going to let it all out now, in front of her, with no-one else around. No Kyle. No Sheldon. No team. Nobody but her. As she continued to stare at him, he couldn’t look her in the eye; he was looking everywhere in his office but her, even though she stood right across his desk from him. “You’ll need to contact PR, um…Leslie, to see what she can do to minimize the press on all this,” he continued, pursing his lips together, looking out into a void. “Another humiliating loss splashed across the Toronto Sun. I can just imagine what they’re going to write about us. The Toronto Maple Leafs lose to a Zamboni driver who works for them. The most embarrassing loss yet, and it’s under my watch. Every newspaper in this city should cut me a check for all the papers I sell for them.” He shook his head, pausing for a few moments to collect himself, and finally looked at Aberdeen. “Anyway, I don’t…I don’t really care what anybody writes about me. But the team. I just…the team. It’s just another disappointment…another let down. Another bad game. Horrible game.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say. She knew this was Brendan’s version of spilling his guts out to her. This loss had taken its toll on him – was going to take its toll on everyone in the organization, and he was the guy heading the entire operation. It all fell on his shoulders. And Kyle’s. But he was the overseer of it all. He put the brunt of the blame on himself – not on the players or the general manager. “Anyway, the point is…the point is…” he cleared his throat. Aberdeen could see him visually recollect himself. “The point is, we really need to get these proofs sent first thing tomorrow morning, because I’d like to see the jerseys before they get sent to the players.”

It was weird to Aberdeen how he could just switch like that – from experiencing the lowest of the low to going back to normal again. She wondered if it was a hockey thing, because Willy did it too – he would be upset after losses, especially bad ones, but it would quickly become dirt off his shoulder. She held on to her emotions and feelings much longer than them. “I’m so sorry, Brendan,” she offered. She knew there was nothing else she could say to him. “If you want me to cancel your morning tomorrow, I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we do that?” he asked.

Aberdeen offered a tight-lipped smile. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

Brendan nodded quickly. “Your job.”

***

Aberdeen called Siena the moment she was out of the office and walking home. She’d been okayed to go home by Brendan. She’d texted Will, but he wasn’t answering, so God knows what was going on in the locker room right now. She didn’t want to stay at Scotiabank Arena for that very reason. She just knew it was too much for her to handle.

She knew it was too much because she was already crying. Silent tears, but tears nonetheless. She prayed to God that Siena picked up.

“Hey,” Aberdeen finally heard her voice. “What’s up?”

“Siena…” Aberdeen’s voice was shaky. “Siena did you watch the game?”

“No, why? What’s wrong?”

Aberdeen sniffled. “I never thought I’d be crying about sports but here I am crying about the Leafs!” she blubbered out.

“Why? What happened?”

“We just had the most God awful game,” Aberdeen huffed out. “We lost to our own Zamboni driver.”

There was a pause on Siena’s end. “Aberdeen, are you drunk?”

“NO!!!” she exclaimed. “Go check the highlights or whatever. Go turn on TSN. It was humiliating. We’re going to get absolutely roasted. It’s going to be so bad and—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen you need to calm down,” Siena urged on the other end of the phone. “It’s not your fault, Aberdeen. And it’s not your problem. Why are you so upset about it? It’s not like you’re a part of the team.”

Aberdeen felt a punch to her heart at Siena’s words. But she was. Everyone had told her that she was – Brendan, Kyle, the guys, everyone – and she had no reason to think otherwise. It was hammered into her since the beginning. For all intents and purposes, she was a member of the team, which is why it hurt her so badly. Siena didn’t understand that. Siena didn’t understand how all the traveling together made them closer; how all the guys looked out for her – not in a patronizing way, just…in their own way – like they were her older brothers, especially after what happened at Christmas; how the word family was tossed around so often that Aberdeen really felt that this was a family in its own way, with a bunch of moving parts, often dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless. Siena didn’t understand any of it. “Yes I am,” Aberdeen said meekly, offering nothing. She couldn’t put into words what she’d just thought, and even if she could, Siena, with all her smarts, wouldn’t understand them. “I am a part of the team.”

“Just sleep on it, alright? I’m sure everybody is going to forget about it by tomorrow morning,” Siena offered, showing truly just how much she didn’t understand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

At that exact moment, a car pulled up on the curb alongside Aberdeen. When she looked over, she saw William in the driver’s seat. He was already looking at her. “Okay, bye,” she ended the call abruptly, stuffing her phone into her coat pocket before approaching and opening the door, slipping into the passenger’s seat easily.

When Aberdeen looked over at William, he immediately noticed her red eyes. His heart tightened in his chest. “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

“How could you not be?” she asked back.

He leaned over the centre console to kiss her. “Please stop, minskatt. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“I don’t know what to feel – what to do – I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better about this,” she lamented.

“Shhhh shhh shhh,” William kissed her again, bringing his of his hands up to cup her face. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“Don’t I?”

William shook his head slightly. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked, as if that was enough. As if that’s all he needed, when really, Aberdeen knew he’d need so much more. That she would need so much more. “D’you want to come back to my place?”

Aberdeen looked William in the eye. He wasn’t asking politely. He was begging. She nodded. “Okay.”

***

Aberdeen was getting scared at how good she was getting at lying. She’d made up a stupid story about needing to stay late at the arena again for the trade deadline so Kasha would go to bed and not wait up for her. Kasha bought it. Aberdeen didn’t even know if she was staying at William’s tonight or if she’d walk into her apartment at three o’clock in the morning again, for the second time in two days.

(As if William would bring her to his apartment and then tell her to leave in the middle of the night.)

He took her to a tall, glass condo building, only about a ten minute walk from hers but closer to the south core that made him possible to practically walk to all the games if he wanted to. He held her hand firmly in his once they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage, getting on the elevator. William pushed the button for one of the top floors. Of course he’d have a penthouse.

Aberdeen was still too caught up in her own emotions to realize how big this was – every other encounter had been at her place, and now she was finally seeing his space. When he opened the door, she was pleasantly surprised at what she was greeted with. She knew it was rented, and so she half expected it to be kind of dull with no personality, but that wasn’t the case. There were touches of William everywhere in the apartment – the slight, boyish messiness just adding to it. Expensive shoes scattered at the entryway. A few plants that weren’t dead, so she figured they were fake. A giant, comfy looking couch in the main area with a massive TV that was hooked up to every gaming console known to man. And pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures everywhere. All of his family.

She could tell that there was a spare bedroom on one side of the apartment, and she saw a door leading to the master. William put his keys in the bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, watching her as she looked around his apartment. “So what do you think?” he asked.

“Do you miss your family on nights like this? When it’s a really bad game and really embarrassing?” Aberdeen asked, staring at a picture he had of him and him sisters together, holding them all in a giant bear hug as their smiles stretched from ear to ear.

The question caught him completely off guard. “Of course I do. I miss them all the time,” he said.

“What do you do on nights like tonight?”

“I sit on my couch and watch TV until I’m not thinking about it anymore,” William admitted. “Lately I’ve really been meaning to do it with my girlfriend.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. Even after a night like tonight, he was still flirting with her. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

They went into his bedroom – bed messy, but huge; closet overflowing, but orderly; giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the other skyscrapers around them – and she changed into a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt that looked Supreme-branded but instead said ‘spaghetti’. It smelled like him, thoroughly, and the second she put it on she felt like she was being hugged, even though it was about six sizes too big. They changed together, and when they were done, they made their way back to the living room and William turned on the TV, pulling her towards the big couch. He made her sit down first before kneeling down between her legs, resting his head on her stomach just beneath her breasts before wrapping his arms around her.

It was calm. It was nice. It was mindless. William was mindless as he laid there, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend in his clothes, watching TV but not really watching TV. Aberdeen was mindless as she laid there, running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly, watching TV but not really watching TV. It was a while before Aberdeen decided to speak again. “You know, it’s not healthy to not talk about it,” she said.

She felt William sigh. “You know I’m not good with words, minskatt.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie. You’re great with words,” she said.

“No I’m not.”

“William, every author in the English language wishes they came up with the words, ‘I think about you when I’m not even thinking’, including me,” she countered.

William couldn’t help but smile. “Those words are only for you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “but can you please give me some other words so I know that you’re okay? Because I’m worried.”

The fact that he was making her worried made him compelled to talk. That was the last thing he wanted. “I just…I just know that we’re never going to hear the end of it. And I hate that. I hate that it’s gonna be the big joke now. Because hockey isn’t a joke to me. Neither is the Leafs.” He paused and Aberdeen was silent, and he knew that silence was urging him to continue. “It happened because…it happened because they rallied around their goalie. They protected him. They had his back. And we didn’t. We just…we didn’t. And I hate it when we do that. Because I have…I have every guy in that locker room’s back. I do. But sometimes it just…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes it just doesn’t work out how I want it to.”

Aberdeen had continued to run her fingers through his hair. She nodded at the end of his speech. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what it feels like, because I don’t,” she said. “I haven’t been a fan of hockey and I don’t understand it like you do but I know how much a game like this can affect the group, especially with the media in this city. But I got emotional about it because I know how much it affects you. Even if you won’t tell me about it.”

“I don’t mean to not tell you,” William said. “I just…” he paused again, thinking if he should even say anything. “It’s that besides my dad and brother, nobody’s ever really…you know, listened. So I just stopped talking.”

Aberdeen’s heart broke. At that point, she stopped running her fingers through his hair and forced him to sit up, even though her legs were still wrapped around him, so she could look him in the eye. She thought about Mike Babcock and what he’d done to Will. She thought about all the other hockey coaches he had and wondered if they were just as bad. “Willy…” she said softly, running her thumb along his jawline and lips. “Willy, I want you to talk to me more. About hockey. About your family. About your feelings. About everything. Please. Please.”

William nodded. He understood completely what she was asking him to do, and he was going to make a concerted effort to do so, because he loved her. He loved her so much and he didn’t want to see her worrying about him. “I will, minskatt. I will, for you,” he said, kissing her quickly. He shifted them so she was straddling his body. “I just have to get used to somebody listening.”

“Willy, I’m always going to listen to you. Don’t forget that, okay?” she asked, cradling his face in her hands.

He nodded, quickly kissing her again. The words were coming now, and he couldn’t stop them. Aberdeen had that power over him. “What happened the other night at the bar was my fault,” he said.

“What?” Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head dramatically. “Willy, that was not your fault at all—”

“Yes it was—”

“No it wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes it was,” he said sternly. “And I couldn’t take it. I was so mad, minskatt. I was shaking. I wasn’t able to stop it or to protect you or—”

“Willy—Willy, stop. Willy, it wasn’t your fault at all,” she repeated. “Those stupid guys were drunk.”

“But they were aiming for me. They hated me. I wish that glass would’ve hit me instead,” he said, bringing his hand up to her scar and touching it lightly.

“Don’t you dare say something like that. It was a freak accident, Willy. There was nothing either of us could do,” she said, hoping he would soon realize it.

William paused for a moment. “You’d talk to me too, right? Like you want me to talk to you?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded her head confidently. “Were you scared that night?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “Just a little bit. But you were there. And Jason. And when I realized that, I wasn’t so scared anymore. I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.”

William nodded. “Are you listening?”

“Yes…”

“I love you.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I love you too.”

They began kissing. Lightly, at first, and then Aberdeen couldn’t help but stick her tongue down his throat, and William couldn’t help but squeeze at the flesh of her thighs. As they made out like teenagers on his couch, Aberdeen placed her hands over his and guided them to her ass.

William giggled slightly into the kiss. “Aberdeen…” he said in a playfully accusing tone.

“I only want to remember feeling your hands there instead,” she mumbled against his lips.

William froze. Suddenly and all at once, her words hit him like shards of glass, cutting him to his very core. “I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.” Ethan. She still thought about what happened with Ethan – she still thought about it and it affected her and it made her scared, something she hadn’t admitted to before. William felt like killing Ethan all over again right then and there, with Aberdeen sitting on his lap. What affected her wasn’t a physical wound; what affected her was something much deeper.

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand cradling her chin, thumb gliding over her lips softly as she’d done to him earlier. “Nobody is going to do that to you again, okay? Not while I’m here.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She believed him completely.

“I mean it, Aberdeen,” he pressed.

“I know.”

“If I ever saw him on the street, I’d fucking kill him for what he did to you. For how he made you feel. And I want you to know that, like…you’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. He was a pig who couldn’t see that but I can,” William said.

Aberdeen almost burst out into tears at his words. You’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. She could have cried right then and there. But instead, she nodded her head before kissing William again, even more eager this time, wanting to show him just how much she appreciated him, just how much she believed him, just how much she loved him.

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samanthadalton · 4 years

Text

Star crossed lovers (au) part 5

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @rxssians @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth

word count: 3.6k

part 1: part 2: part 3: part 4:

The Unexpected guest

Tensions were at an all time high in wake of the party and all parties involved were playing a dangerous game of hide and seek. Over the couple of weeks that followed, Bea and Poppy were partially avoiding each other, not wanting to instigate any fights especially since the girls already had so much on their plate. Everytime Poppy tried to bring up the knife incident Bea would either change the subject or become irritable and leave. It was the same story for Bea and AJ, he did everything in his power to avoid Bea at school, home and anywhere else. To distract herself from all the drama, Bea began taking on extra shifts at the diner, focused on volleyball practice especially since Chloe was biting the heads off the girls every practice since they had a friendly match on Thursday and they needed to uphold their reign and bring glory to the Belvoire name. Simultaneously, she was also balancing taking care of her mother and sister, since her mom had been much more needy over the last couple of weeks and Bea couldn’t figure out why. The day before the volleyball game, Bea had gotten a text from an unknown number asking to meet her just outside of town as a small restaurant and Bea unquestionably knew who it was.

…….

Nerves begin to wreck her entire body as she parks her bike just outside the restaurant. She smooths down her dress, pepping herself up a little, takes a deep breath and walks over to the entrance. She sees a hostess at the front of the small restaurant who greets her with a warm smile, “Table for 1?”

Bea softly shakes her head, “Uhh, no I’m meeting someone here. It should be under the name Hughes?”

The hostess scans her list, “uhhh, ah here it is, a table for two. Your dinner companion is already waiting inside”, she leads Bea to the middle of the restaurant where she sees an older man sitting in front of her. He nervously taps on the table, his gaze facing downwards, and he’s pulled out of his reverie when the hostess announces Bea’s arrival.

“Mr Hughes, your dinner guest is here,”

Bea father’s eyes practically light up when he sees his daughter and he jumps out of his seat to pull Bea’s chair out for her as the hostess leaves. Bea awkwardly accepts her father’s attempt at chivalry and lets herself be pushed in and begins to wrangle her fingers together while her father takes a seat opposite her, his expression elated as a waiter comes over handing them a menu and he pushes a glass of coke towards Bea while he has a beer for himself.

“I wasn’t sure if you still like coke but if I got it wrong we can get to another drink” he looks up raising a hand to flag down a waiter.

“No it’s fine dad” to show she’s okay with the drink by leaning down and taking a small sip from the straw earning a smile from her father

”God, look at you squirt, all grown up. You look beautiful, sweetie. Did you grow over the last year?”

Bea bashfully stares down at the table, “uhh yeah I think I grew 2 more inches since you’ve last seen me”

“I can tell, you get your height from your old man here”

Bea cringes slightly at the mention of her “old man” but quickly masks her discomfort but plastering a small smile on her lips and letting out a small chuckle. “Well that’s what happens when you don’t visit for almost 2 years, things change” though her tone is dripping with sarcasm, the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable as guilt flashes across Mr Hughes’ eyes.

“Bea..”

“It’s fine dad, we don’t have to talk about it.” Bea is about to say more until a waiter comes to their table, and takes their order before leaving again.

“Are you sure you just want to eat a caesar salad? I’m paying sweetie, I’ll get you whatever you want?”

Bea gives her head a shake, “no its fine. I have a volleyball game tomorrow so rules are no heavy carbs or anything before a game”

Bea’s dad lets out a low whistle, “that’s tough. And also very stupid. Who came up with that rule”

Bea laughs, “our team captain, Chloe. Let’s just say she’s not exactly the brightest of the bunch but she will definitely kick your ass if you don’t take volleyball seriously”

“So are you ready for the game?”

“Yeah, I’ve been practicing a lot and it’s only a friendly match so it’s not a real match or anything”

“Still, you should make the Hughes name proud. Show them we don’t give up so easily,” Mr Hughes realises what he said and tightens his lips together in order for him to stop speaking. Quiet follows until the waiter comes to the table with their food and the two eat in uncomfortable silence. The dead air is soon broken when Bea lets out a frustrated sigh capturing her father’s attention.

“I can’t pretend like everything’s alright dad” she slams the fork in her hand down, shaking the table a little.

“Bea, I know-”

“No you don’t dad. You can’t just waltz back into my life after not calling or texting for the last year and a half. Out of respect for mom and Aria, I haven’t told them about being in contact with you but I can only hide it for so long. I just need to know if you’re gonna be around this time or if you’re gonna leave again because-”

“Bea please!” Bea father’s tone pleading as he raises his hand to cut her off. “I’m not here to pick a fight. I just wanted to see my daughter.”

Bea massages her hand with one hand as she takes a moment to reflect on her father’s words, “why now dad? Look I appreciate you sending me money every month to help us out but you’ve never really cared other than that.”

Tears glisten in her father’s eyes, “is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” his tone low and tinged with sadness, “Bea I will always be your father. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I will always be here for you”

“And what about mom? Aria? Is it just fuck them? You only give a shit about me?” Bea slightly raises her voice, gaining a few scowls from the other people in the restaurant, “Aria deserves to have a dad too.”

“Bea please” he inconspicuously shifts his gaze around the room, “please can we have a civil conversation about this?”

Bea glowers at the father, her mind telling her to storm out of the restaurant without a second glance while her heart tells her to stay and listen to what he has to say at the very least. She defeatedly sighs, giving into her heart and she shifts in her seat leaning back on her chair, crossing her arms, “well, you have 5 minutes”

“Thank you” he reaches out to clasp Bea’s hand in his but his hand awkwardly hovers near Bea’s before pulling back again. He apprehensively coughs into his hand before speaking, “I know I’ve missed out on a lot of things. That… I haven’t been a good dad. But I want that to change Bea, I want to get to know you.” He looks at Bea, his eyes full of hopefulness but feels dejected as her eyes stare back at him blankly. “I know me leaving wasn’t easy on you, or your mother, but you have to see it from my perspective. She slept with someone else and led me to believe Aria was mine for 2 years.”

“That’s not a valid excuse to ditch your entire family!” Bea blinks back the tears forming in her eyes, and swallows slightly to get rid of the shakiness in her voice, “I needed my dad. You know how hard it’s been to watch mom throw her life away? To watch her kill herself with drugs and alcohol while I had to mature quickly so I can look after both her and Aria? Have Aria crying in the night saying she misses her dad and is confused as to why mom hates her so much?” Bea eventually breaks down, the strength of upholding her composure dissipating as the tears stream down her face and she looks at her father’s face who stares guilty back at her, his face pale. “You didn’t support us once during those years. You let me and Aria suffer because of mom’s mistake. So I take your money every month because I’m owed at least that very much.” She jumps out of her seat, “your 5 minutes are up” and without a second glance, stalks out of the restaurant.

She throws on her helmet and swings one leg over her bike and is about to turn the throttle until a hand firmly grips her shoulder, “please Bea, don’t leave like this.”

“Why not? You did”, she shrugs her father’s hand off her shoulder and with that she turns on the ignition and drives off leaving her father, who just watches her leave.

……

The next day, classes whizz by, as Bea prepares herself for tonight's game with a quick practice squeezed in at lunchtime due to Chloe’s demands of ‘making sure they are ready for tonight’s game with no one dragging them down’, she stared icily at Bea when she said the last bit.

Soon it was time for the game, and the audience began piling into the hall while the girls did their pre-game stretches and exercises while waiting for the other team from Berry High and the judges to arrive.

“Okay ladies, do not disappoint me today. We’ve been working hard for this moment. We cannot start off the season with a loss, it will make us look bad,” the girls stare blankly at Chloe who begins to monologue about Belvoire’s history of volleyball. Bea boredly looks around the hall and sees Poppy and the rest of the cheerleaders in the corner huddled together, most likely having a last minute pep talk. Their eyes meet across the room and Poppy’s covertly communicates with Bea to meet her in the locker room with a subtle nod of her head directing towards the doors. Bea taps her eyebrow with her forefinger in response to Poppy, showing that she’s understood her message and makes an excuse to grab her water bottle from her locker. A minute later Poppy follows her into the locker room.

“Hey” Bea steps out of the shadows staring at Poppy in her cheerleader’s outfit with undisguised lust, “damn you look hot.”

Poppy bashfully tucks her hair behind her ear, “shuttup, you’ve seen me in my outfit all the time”

“And I’m gonna tell you how sexy you look every time”

Poppy moves forward winding her arms around the taller girl’s neck before pulling her in for a long kiss. She breaks it off and places her forehead against the brunette’s, “I thought you were still mad at me”

Bea carefully swipes her thumb against Poppy’s lips, “and why would you think I’m mad?” her voice low but full of playfulness.

“Because…. We keep avoiding the conversation we are supposed to have”

Bea huffs exasperatingly, “Look, I swear we will talk about what happened at the party, just not now, I gotta focus on the game and you gotta focus on your routine. I mean aren’t you performing at the football game tomorrow too?”

Poppy despairingly stares at Bea but she doesn’t push anymore, wanting to enjoy a moment of bliss before they have to go back to reality. She squeaks out, “okay, I guess I can wait a couple more days”. Bea pulls her closer pressing a soft kiss on her lips before stroking the strawberry blonde’s hair.

“So… are we going to do our pre-game ritual or no?”

Poppy lets out a snort, “Oh my god, I almost forgot”. The girls begin doing an elaborate handshake which ends with their pinkies hooked together while they kiss each other’s pinky finger before Bea slinks a hand behind Poppy’s neck and pulls her in for a long and passionate kiss.

Poppy breaks the kiss first and looks back at the locker room entrance, “We should really get back before people start to wonder” she nervously chews the inside of her cheek. “But before I go are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” Bea gives Poppy an inattentive hum who in retort raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at the girl, “Bea, I know you well enough to know something’s up, what's wrong?”

“We’re wasting time,” Bea moves out of Poppy’s grasp and takes out a water bottle from her locker, “Chloe’s probably going mental wondering where I am”

“Talk to me Bea” she desperately clings to Bea’s arm, “what the hell is happening to us? Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Her bottom lip quivers but she quickly bites down on it, and when Bea doesn’t answer her, all emotions drain out of her face and she stares at Bea vacantly. “Fine, whatever, good luck” and she walks out leaving Bea on her own.

Bea grabs her water bottle and leaves the locker rooms after waiting a couple of minutes and is met by a hot headed Chloe who looks like her head is about to explode as she screams at Bea, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know how to read the time? We’ve been waiting for you for almost 5 minutes, hurry up and get on the court now.” Bea half-heartedly apologises and makes her way to the court and waits for the whistle to blow.

The game begins and the Belvoire volleyball team manages to succeed in securing a hefty lead against Berry High, with substantial communication and teamwork. No matter how different the girls are outside the court, no one can deny the chemistry between the players and how easily they’re able to read each other in order to play exceptionally. Volleyball games are the only time Chloe treats Bea with an ounce of respect and can actually talk to her without throwing an insult (most of the time) as their dynamic although unexpected is almost as if they share the same brain during their games. Bea is so fixated on the match she doesn’t realise her mother, Aria and Zoey walk into the hall and take a seat in the middle of the bleachers until they start screaming her name. Bea at first is dumbfounded as she did not expect her mom to show up at her game especially after the drunken show in 2018. A small graces her lips as she blushes red and brings her finger to her mouth to quiet them down feeling embarrassed by the attention but Zoey only starts to cheer louder, gaining dirty looks from everyone around her.

“What? That’s my best friend so imma cheer for her, problem?” She begins to argue with one of the parents who begins to quarrel with her for being too loud. Bea shakes her head trying not to laugh but is quickly pulled out of her thoughts when the ball lands right in front of her.

“What the fuck Hughes? Pay attention” Chloe’s tone threatening as the rest of the girls look disapprovingly as Bea. The game resumes and soon it’s half time. During the entirety of the first half of the game, Bea doesn’t spare a glance at Poppy who in return just aimlessly scrolls through her phone until she notices Ms Hughes in the stands who gave her a little wave.

“Ew, why is she waving at you? Do you like, know her or something?” Tasha’s face scrunched up as she looks at Poppy with disgust.

“Uhh she used to be my neighbour so she probably remembers me from when I was a kid” Poppy looks back up to the stands and sees Aria who grins enthusiastically at the strawberry blonde and Poppy gives her wink before focusing on the game and watching Bea lose all focus when she realises her mom is at one of her games.

When it's finally half-time Poppy plasters on a pageant smile while Veronica takes her hand and squeezes it tightly before the cheerleaders make their way to the middle of the court and begin their extensive routine. Music begins to blare on the speakers and the cheerleaders stand in a diamond formation before impeccably killing their dance routine while Veronica and Tasha do the splits and Poppy in the middle mounts the perfect front handspring before joining the two girls in a split as the rest of the group continue with their dance in the back.

Bea longingly watches Poppy, her heart aching a little as regret begins to fill her insides as she knows there were some truths to the strawberry blonde’s words about being hard to talk to. The brunette can’t pinpoint when she began closing off on her girlfriend but she knows that it’s been going on long enough. As she watches the routine, she decides that on Saturday morning she’ll take Poppy out for the day where they can have a long long talk about everything.

It comes to the part of the routine where the girls are supposed to be in a pyramid so Poppy, being the head cheerleader, flourishes her arms as she makes her way to the top. Just as she’s about to reach the top of the pyramid, she grabs onto one of the cheerleader’s hand to haul herself to the top but she accidentally misplaces her hand, which sends her tumbling down and landing with a heavy thud. The music abruptly stops as the audience gasp and whisper while Bea's heart drops and without thinking she runs towards the strawberry blonde, her entire mind and body beginning to shut down and stutter. Principal Steinhelm pushes herself through the group formed around Poppy telling everyone to move back to give the girl some space.

Poppy winces as her eyes meet Bea, and when Bea stares into her eyes all she can see is pain, unsure as to whether it’s from her injury or what happened earlier Bea begins to distress until Veronica pulls her away from the crowding cheerleaders as the nurse appears and begins to examine Poppy’s injuries.

“What the hell are you doing?! I need to see her” Bea tries to barge her way past Veronica but Veronica easily subdues the brunette by pushing her back to keep her in her place.

“I know you’re worried but I’m doing this for you. Chill out with the puppy dog eyes because you’re making it obvious.” Bea quickly blinks back her tears and looks into the audience to see her mother, Aria and Zoey all with worried looks etched onto their faces. “Look you know I’ll always have Poppy’s back. I think it’s just a broken wrist, nothing she can’t come back from but she’ll never forgive you if someone found out about you two.”

Bea furrows her eyebrows together before whispering, “I don’t give a fuck, she’s my girlfriend”. Veronica places a hand on Bea’s chest pushing her back even more.

“Exactly you’re her girlfriend. Don’t put extra stress on her” she turns and sees the nurse leading out a teary eyed Poppy and turns back and sighs, “focus on your game. I’ll text you with updates” and she leaves the hall following after Poppy and her nurse and a few of the other girls.

Principal’s Steinhelm’s voice suddenly booms across the hall, “Please settle in your seats.” She abruptly claps her hands together silencing everyone in the hall, “I know you’re worried because of this unfortunate incident but rest assured Miss Min Sinclair will be okay and her father is being contacted as we speak. Please let the game continue without any further disruptions.”

The two teams make their way back to the court but one of the girls from Berry High begins to taunt a broken looking Chloe, “awww, you sad about the pretty little cheerleader having a fall” she begins to mimic Chloe’s anguished expression, pretending tears are falling out of her eyes as some of her teammates begin to laugh while the rest just stay silent. Just as Chloe opens her mouth to retort Bea heatedly stalks towards the girl, fury blazing in her eyes, “how about you shut the fuck up and get on with the game before this becomes more than a friendly match.” She glares at the girl, nostrils flared and her breathing heavy, Chloe gives Bea a weird look but Bea is too pissed to see it. The girl nervously gulps and ducks her head before walking over to her side of the court and the game resumes. Powered by her rage, Bea and the other Belvoire volleyball players manage to beat Berry High by a landslide and as soon as the game is over, Bea brushes past her mom who tries to reach out and talk to her about the game and runs to the locker room to grab her things determined to see Poppy in hospital. She checks her phone to see Veronica upholding her promise and texting Bea with updates of Poppy’s condition.

She makes it to the empty parking lot as most likely everyone is still in the hall slowly beginning to pile out but a figure in front of her makes her stop in her tracks as she gawks at the person in front of her. “What the hell do you want?”

“I know about you and Poppy.”

read part 6 here:

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #star crossed lovers

96 notes · View notes

himooonlight · 4 years

Text

who are you? pt. 3 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader

word count: 4.7k

plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him

warnings: sad stuff?

A/N: hello again! i'm super excited about this chapter, so hope you all like it :) two things though: 1. this story takes place after the season finale and i'm trying to keep everything accurate and 2. the dream is in italics. NOW ENJOY!!

oh and just in case you missed, here's chapter 1 and chapter 2

- You know, I was thinking. - Reggie says as I wave my sister goodbye. She did talk to Julie's dad about having me for dinner, making sure he was okay with it, just like I knew she would do. Mr. Molina seems like a very nice person. - “I’ll always find you” sounded a bit creepy. How about “we’ll always find each other”? That way I’m not the only creepy stalker in the relationship. We can be weird together.

Reggie knows I can't reply, but I can't help but smile. He's too cute.

- Y/N, come in! - Mr. Molina screams from the door.

Daisy goes back to her car and when I can't see her anymore due to all the plants and trees in their front yard, I walk inside. The first thing I notice is a large wooden straight staircase and a lot of different carpets on the floor. Everything is neat and in brown tones. A lot of frames are decorating the yellow walls; some are pictures and some are paintings. Everything is elegant and cool, detailed even.

- Julie, Y/N's here! - He screams at the bottom of the sairs. He's looking up, so I'm assuming Julie's room is upstairs. Soon enough, his daughter appears and smiles at me. I like how her front teeth are separated and she doesn't wear much makeup; it makes me feel more accepted and understood somehow. - Girls, I'll be in my room working on some editing, so behave, ok? Oh, and there's some fresh strawberries in the fridge. Maybe you can make Y/N that smoothie.

He winks at Julie and goes upstairs. Meanwhile, I'm frozen, inebriated with a memory.

Fresh strawberries. That house. The open kitchen.

I've seen that place before in my dreams. With Reggie. When I was a man.

The cabinets were light blue and the orange chairs gave the kitchen some sort of happy vibe even though I wasn't comfortable there. A few people were sitting on the counter, close to the big fridge, holding cups. The strangers were flirting, kissing and singing with the loud music that was playing. Overwhelmed, I looked for Reggie.

It was the same house. The floor was covered in white porcelain tiles and there was a big leather couch where Julie's dinner table was, but I knew it was the same place.

- Are you ok? - Julie asks me.

Her dad is gone and suddenly I feel inadequate. I have to focus on breathing normally while trying to remember more details. Everybody is connected somehow, I know, and maybe recalling a conversation or recognizing something could help Reggie and the boys.

- I need to explain my connection with Reggie. - I whisper. My voice is shaky and she looks worried. Reggie tries to hold my hand and fails, making me smile softly at him. It's nice to know he is around, somehow. - I've been here before, in my dreams. It's… are the boys here as well?

I look around just for a moment, taking in more details. The curtains in the dream house were beige. There were a lot of plants around and a few picture frames in the living room. I can't quite see the faces in the photos, but it's a family of three in front of a Christmas tree. There's too many people around me and it's overwhelming.

I sit on the floor and Julie follows me. Closing my eyes, I try getting back to that dream just in time to recall Reggie touching my shoulder and saying "there's some fresh strawberries in the fridge; you said you like it so I bought you some".

He looks shy for a moment and I can't help but stare at his eyes in awe. I don't feel very relaxed at the party and Reggie picks up on the way I play with my fingers in agitation and look away, trying to see if we can go out. He takes my hand and soon we're at the back of the house, in a big garage with a lot of instruments.

- Thanks for coming. I know you're not a huge fan of parties, but I'm glad you're here. It wouldn't be the same without you.

His stare is too much for me to handle, so I walk around the place, looking attentively at the instruments. The drums and a guitar are inviting to the touch, but I hold back. Even though we are alone, it's like being with him is wrong so I act like I'm walking on eggshells. Feels right liking him, but it's wrong; it's a fight that I know my head will win and my heart will be devastated.

- I came here to say that I… - I start, not looking at him. He's too pure and I'm too weak. The music is still playing in the background and we can hear a lot of screams and laughs coming from the house. - that we can't do this.

Reggie looks offended.

- Do what?

- This. You and I. - I replied, turning to face him. He looks perplexed. Did I misread the signs? - My parents would kill me.

I can cut the tension with a knife. However, I don't have to try because Reginald is doing that for us by putting a mask on and looking frustrated. He opens his mouth a few times, as if trying to justify or explain himself.

- Ethan, what are you talking about? - He asks, with a scoff. I don't recognize that reaction on his face. It's like he's trying too hard to play a part he doesn't even want to. - We're friends. I like girls. I flirt a lot, sure, but it's all a joke.

He bought me strawberries as a joke.

He held my hand and called me pet names for the laugh.

He was pretending when I thought he felt something more.

- I'm sorry. - I said, staring at some papers on the floor. Probably unfinished lyrics. A notebook is open with the name Emily on the top of the page and then it hits me: he could never love me the way I loved him. I was the weird one; I was wrong. - I have to go.

- Y/N. - Julie touches my arm, making me open my eyes. - Tell me what is going on.

She's fairly calm. Reggie, however, looks like he's about to scream.

- They are here, right? - I inquire and Julie nods in response. - I've been having dreams about Reggie for a year now. The first five dreams or so were different. I was a man and he was… himself. But things were different somehow, not just me. The world was not the same. The last dream I had before meeting him as me, a girl, I was at this house. Again: this was not your place. The decoration was totally different and people were dressed like they were in the 90's. He said his bandmate was throwing a party since his parents weren't home and that I should come. I actually did and he said he didn't like me because I was a guy. So I left and the next thing I know I'm me and he's asking for help, saying he needs me. At first I thought he changed his mind, cause we were going on dates, talking about the future, laughing and just enjoying everything together. In my dreams, of course. Now I just... it felt like different lifetimes, to be honest. And I liked him in both.

- Alex is asking when was the first time you two met. - Julie says.

- I don't know the date, but it was at a book club. He said they were going to play there, but they mostly ate. And one of his friends was super engaged with the people there, listening to them talk about literature and life. I can't remember their faces very well. I just remember one was brunette and the other was blond, just like your band, Julie.

- Luke asked when was the last time you had a dream about me. - It's Reginald's turn to be his friends' messenger.

- Thursday night. Reggie said something about having to go, not knowing how to stay. It was very emotional. - I answer. - But a friend of mine sent me a video of your concert on Friday night. She was at the Orpheum and she said you were great. I just couldn't stop looking at you and wondering if I'm insane. Am I crazy, Reggie?

- If you are crazy, so am I. - Julie declares when the boy next to me doesn't say anything. It's too much to take in. The three of us are still sitting on the floor and the silence is loud. Loud because it means a lot; that we're all confused. - Alex, wait.

- What? - I ask.

- Alex stormed off. He asked us to come to the garage.

Reggie beams, looking ashamed, and we go to the place I've seen before in my dreams. The garage/studio has chairs in the ceiling and a lot of plants, along with a beautiful piano and a bigger window. Beside me, Julie seems nervous and suddenly two good-looking boys appear in front of me, playing the guitar and the drums.

The brunette and the blond that I didn't recognize before are playing loudly, staring at me with indecipherable expressions and furrowed eyebrows.

- This is the only way you can see us, when we're playing. - The drummer screams. - I'm Alex and this is Luke. - In cue, Luke smiles a little. He is definitely the one that enjoyed metaphors in my dream. - Do you remember anything else about the book club?

- Why? - Luke inquires.

- Just sush. - He says.

- Anything like what?

- Like the address.

Luke looks at Alex like he just said the biggest nonsense he has ever heard. Reggie is standing next to me, speechless. I can tell he's conflicted, so I don't push. I'm confused as well, trying to focus on the first dream, realizing that the details are not very clear anymore; all I can recall is Reggie being adorable and my feelings all over the place. I remember walking around the house unpretentiously with him, thinking about his features and his personality.

- I don't know. - I state.

- Do you think this is about your unfinished business too? - It's Julie's turn to make questions. - The book club? Y/N? What is going on? After Friday I figured we would stay together, but now you're actually considering going back out there?

I have no idea what she is talking about. I just feel like I'm intruding and should just let go, pretending that Reggie is just imaginary. I don't think I'll dream about him again, so I could always just do like the night I said "I have to go" and leave again.

Nobody really talks about leaving. Songs are written about being left, books tell the story of the ones who leave, movies focus on the girl moving on after getting dumped. It's never about the villain, the person who decides to leave because it's too overwhelming, too much to handle. Nobody talks about how hard it is to live with the weight of the decision to go away - it's always focussed on the consequences, not the responsibility of leaving.

- I wanna know. - Reginald says. - I think I need to know.

- And I think I remember the address. - Luke sounds serious. He is still playing just like Alex (who looks tired), but keeps trying his best to continue. - Do you think your dad can take you to Echo Park right now?

The car ride is a bit awkward. Julie is sitting in the front with her dad, that doesn't question when she asks to go to the park. She justifies with a simple "we want to see this house for our drawing class, so we can get some inspiration" that he answers with a smile and a "let's go". Luke and Alex teleport, while Reggie stays behind to accompany me.

- I'm trying to remember that day, I promise. The day we met. - His voice is low and I feel an urge to hug him. - There's something here - He points at his head. - about the party, but I just remember feeling bad for lying about something, then Luke said we should play and that's pretty much it. What does it even mean? How can you dream about that? Are you a ghost too? Ok, just ignore that last question. But how? Why? What is happening?

- You know, Y/N, I really think that friend of ours should just learn how to teleport, right? - Julie says, turning her head around and looking at Reggie. He apologies and disappears.

The rest of the way is basically Mr. Molina asking about school and making me feel at ease. He is kind and bright, which makes me wonder about Julie's mom. Was she as bright? Or maybe more quiet and calm? Collected maybe? The way her dad talks about Carlos, Julie's brother, makes me think that they're doing alright, that they are healing. Julie engages a little more when he talks about the concert and when the cars slows down close the address Luke gave us, my heart is going wild.

- This is the house, right? - Mr. Molina asks.

It is. Luke is right; that's the friendly two-story white house that works as a cultural center. Big windows, big porch. There's a few flowers and a swig, but the rest is just like I remember. Looks like there's a small gathering going on and I can see some people in the front yard, talking and drinking what looks like orange juice. A "Hope Cultural Center" sign greets people with a smiley face and blue letters close to the door too.

- Yep, that's it.

- Dad, do you wanna go park somewhere? We'll take some pictures and wait for you here. Maybe go inside a little? Our friend said they have book clubs, so maybe there's some expositions and stuff like that too.

- Sure! I'll be right back.

Julie and I get out of the car and find Reggie sitting on the sidewalk, observing the house attentively. I assume the boys are with him as well.

- Should we go inside? Just to check it out? - I can't recognize my own voice. It doesn't sound like the same person that was contemplating running away. I sound excited. - What do you think?

Both of them nod and we take the few steps that separates us from the gates. It's open and everybody looks very friendly, so we go on, holding onto the "Hope" sign. Hoping we can discover something important, any information that can help us. I wouldn't say out loud, but I could add "life changing" to that list as well.

- Oh, hello there! - An old lady says. Her voice is almost like summer days and cotton candy. - I've never seen your faces around here.

- Yeah, we were just passing by and…

- Welcome then, my dears. We're happy to have you with us today. - Her smile melts my heart. It could be her fluffy hair or the wrinkles in her eyes; perhaps everything about her screams "I'm a nice person". - We're celebrating our 30th anniversary! There's some expositions on the second floor, food in the kitchen area, back there, - She points somewhere like we know the place already and that makes me feel warm. - and music in the backyard too. Help yourself and if you need anything, let me know, ok?

- She is so nice. - Reggie says, smiling too. - So, what are we looking for? - When everybody stays quiet, I feel panic rising in my chest.

- Y/N, I'll stay here to wait for my dad. You go ahead and look around, see if you remember anything. The boys will do the same. - She looks around and I assume she is making sure they know what to do. - I'll text you when my dad gets here.

As I take the first step further away from her, the panic intensifies. I have to put it aside so I can focus and try to find anything that's remotely relevant.

I find myself going to the backyard, amused that everything looks so similar to my dream. The grass is greener, the fence is now brown, yet I can almost see Reggie and his friends standing at the same place.

There's only one girl out there sitting with a guitar in a small stage made with wood pallets, seeming nervous. I take one last look around before heading upstairs. Reggie is by the kitchen and Julie is probably still at the door, so I find the stairs and take in all the frames by the wall. Some are poems, some are drawings and everything is beautiful, soulfull.

When I get to the actual exposition, I find a photo that grabs my attention.

It's a group picture with at least 6 people. The date says it's 1995 and everybody has a book in their hand and a silly look on their face, apparently happy to be there. Probably the old lady knows who they are, but I don't see her around, so I just continue my quest for the unknown.

That is until I recognize Alex in another frame that also dates 1995.

He is holding a paper that says "best poem" and I feel goosebumps all over my arms. My throat closes.

They are really dead. Reggie is really dead.

Death took him away from me and I feel so selfish for feeling sad about it: I feel sad because I can't be with him anymore. My first thought is that it's disappointing loving someone so impossible like him. The second is "he was so young and had so many dreams… why?". Questioning death and all its mystery is probably normal, still I hate the feeling of not knowing more. Why is he a ghost? Why so early? Why him? Would I ever forget him completely?

Life really is just a competition to see how long we can stay alive and well, tricking death. Death really is just about the living grieving because their love has no place to go.

These people probably don't even know about Reggie, Alex and Luke. When they see the picture, they might think Alex is probably old, married and maybe doing something boring. Maybe they don't even suppose anything about him like it's not relevant, not worth it.

It's impossible not to notice the bitter sensation in my mouth. I guess it's something like frustration or the weight of everything coming back to me after the insane day I had.

- That's Alex. - Reggie's voice scares me and I jump a little. He's examining the picture carefully. - I don't remember being here, to be honest. No matter how hard I try.

- Alex and his friends were the living proof that you can always try harder. - I hear someone's voice. When I look around, the old lady is standing next to me.

I can't bring myself to say anything. My whole body is tired and my thoughts are not clear anymore. All I can do is keep all my attention on that picture and hope I can go home soon.

- They were great. - She continues, not minding Reggie. The lady can't see him. - They were in a band called Sunset Curve. My best friend is this guy's mom. - She points at the cheerful Alex immortalized in the photo. - Alex and his friends died that year and she was devastated. Everybody was. I've heard that one of the boys' parents searched the whole town for him before knowing about his death. Apparently they weren't on good terms.

She is talking about Luke, making me feel like an intruder. Again.

- Do you still talk to his mom? - I continue my way through the expositions while she follows me around. It's a timeline with different occasions, different people. Everybody is joyful and in bright colors, always doing something in a group, sustaining the idea that everything is better when you're surrounded by nice people. - Is she alright?

- Oh, yes, darling, she is. His parents opened a coffee shop downtown. They've been involved in a lot of projects, volunteering to help the community. A few years back they decided to focus on kids and I think they found their purpose in life again with that. Let me show you something.

Her hand flies to meet mine and I feel positive energy running through us. She is very vivid, which is a great match with her colorful clothes. She's wearing green pants, a pink shirt and orange shoes. Her smile is decorated with red lipstick, contrasting with a few missed teeth. It's inevitable to like her and her unique way of dressing and expressing herself.

- Here. - We stop in 2018. The walls are white so the colors scream, begging for attention. - This was two years ago. Lisa and her husband, Jarred, Alex's parents, made a project to help kids and teenagers with music. They had workshops, competitions, small concerts at their cafe. It was amazing. They actually found...

She is pointing at a few pictures where kids are playing instruments, wearing wigs and a lot of glitter. They all look delighted and excited and I can almost see the spark in their eyes. At the top, on the left side, I see something that makes me stop in my tracks, feeling dizzy. She shouldn't be wearing nice shoes, considering I might throw up at any moment.

- Y/N. - Reggie calls. He probably sees the same thing I'm seeing.

It can't be. I wanna go home.

I can't be there anymore.

- There you are. - Julie screams. My body is so stiff I can't turn around. - Y/N? What are you guys doing?

- I was just showing her this picture. - She doesn't notice the way my mind is about to explode and continues. - It was back in 2018. These two boys were awesome and even covered Sunset Curve a few times. I think their names were Luke and Reggie, if I'm not mistaken. They haven't been around in a while. Jarred said they look just like Alex's bandmates, but this one - She points at Luke. - was an orphan and was kind of a troublemaker. And this one - It's Reggie's turn. - was having problems at school. They just assumed they didn't want to come to the workshops anymore. But my point is: his parents found their peace with their son's death. They managed to make something beautiful and honor Alex's name. It's all that matters, right? We can't change the fact that they died. All we can do is decide how we're going to use their influence in your lives.

Julie is probably just as confused as I am. I hear an "excuse me for a second" and suddenly she is gone. I miss her colors and being oblivious to that information. That Reggie and Luke were alive two years ago.

- What is going on?

I can clearly see Reggie and Luke playing at a small stage, sharing a microphone. They look so connected and carefree. The quality of the picture is so good that I can't even question the date; there's no way that was taken before 1995.

Alex is nowhere to be seen in that photo.

- We need to find them, Y/N. We need to know who they are, why they're pretending to be Reggie and Luke and... what is going on?

- Guys. - Reggie is still staring at the picture like his life depended on it. - Guys. I… I think I remember this. This place. Luke, you remember too right?

It's the first time I see Reggie so unstable. He's not making jokes to hide his feelings; he is genuinely confused and afraid, like all of us. I feel like this is the first time I see him and it's scary. Not being able to help, frustrated that I can't stop the wave of uncertainty and fear that he's experiencing.

Luke's answer is not audible to me. Reggie is saying something yet I can't hear him because I'm busy engulfed in hesitation. Should I give them privacy and go home? Should I ask around about the coffee shop? Should I stay quiet?

- I'm confused too. Maybe we should call it a day and just go home for now. We can come back another time. - Julie speaks. - Come on, Y/N. My dad is waiting outside.

I ask Mr. Molina to take me home, with the excuse that I don't feel good. It's not really a lie. He is very polite and says I should come back another time so we can all have hot dogs together. Julie agrees and I wonder if we'll be friends. I hope so.

When I get to my room, my mind runs to the picture. It's so clear, so confusing and so aggravating. We're getting played by faith, destiny or the universe; some unknown force with strong powers to make people sick to their stomach. Their goal might be to drive people crazy. Who knows? Surely not me.

I eat dinner with my family, finish my homework, take a shower and read a little while listening to some music. When it's almost nine, I hear a knock on my door.

- Come in.

My eyes are playing tricks on me. Reggie is standing there, with his hands in his pockets and red eyes.

I stand up, not minding my bunny pajamas. He doesn't seem to mind either.

- Nice candles. - There he is, the same flirty Reggie. I relax and he steps closer to me. His gaze is so intense and I want to cry. - Look at you being romantic.

- This was actually me trying to summon you, but alright. - I reply and he laughs. It's not genuine. - How are you?

It's ironic how my playlist is called "slow dancing in my room". Soon enough, Reggie shows me his palms, as if inviting me for a dance. Not going all the way and trying to touch him, I smile weakly and almost wince with the urge to hold his hand. We sway and keep our eyes on each other.

- I'm sad. - That's new. He's never this transparent. - I don't understand what is going on. I remember that day with Luke. At least I think I do. I don't know what's real and what's just my mind desperate to be alive again. I thought just playing with Julie was enough, but…

He doesn't finish. The song ends and we keep dancing slowly, letting our eyes talk for a moment. I can notice the pain, the sadness and the urge in his face. It breaks my heart.

- What do you wanna do now?

He tries touching my hand and misses it. His eyes scan my room, probably running away from me and my questioning eyes.

- I wanna know everything, but Alex is not taking it well. He's not very good with changes.

I nod and turn my head a little, demanding his attention on me again.

- Take your time, ok? Talk to them about it, make a list on why you should and shouldn't go to that cafe and... I don't know, - We're still dancing and I'm still crushed, but at least being with him calms my heart. - breathe. Just breathe. Everything will be alright.

- How can you be so positive right now?

- Well, if people can be negative for no reason, I can be positive for no reason too. - I shrug and he sighs. - Scratch that. I do have a reason.

Reggie gets closer and I can almost feel his nose touching mine.

- What is it? - His voice is just above a whisper.

- I want that to be true. I want you to be happy and well. I want you to feel loved too. That's exactly what you deserve, Reggie. Happiness. Love.

Before I can say anything else, he steps back and says goodnight. My chest hurts and when I wake up in the morning with a text from Julie saying "let's go to that cafe today", I don't feel happy. Or loved.

I'm just scared.

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pondermoniums · 3 years

Text

A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 3)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

Spence dropped you off at the gate, a rather tearful parting, mostly for you. You two had only been apart for the time Spence was in prison, and that was utter hell. Compared to that, this should be a cakewalk.

Your first week was the hardest. You spent most of it getting acquainted at the school, in the classroom, rehearsing a few of your lectures, meeting other faculty, rereading the textbook you’d chosen. There wasn’t any time to look at the FBI cases you’d been given, let alone trying to find a more permanent residence while you were in town.

The second week, the classes began and you could already feel a rhythm beginning to set in. Some of the students really seemed to be ready and liking the class. Others, you could tell, were stuck with this class. It made no difference to you, as you’d teach the best way you knew how and help anyone who had questions.

The second Saturday night, you dove into the case files. At first, not much had tied them together. Different backgrounds, ages, races, sex. Victimology was all over the place. If these were even victims at all. But they were missing persons, who had never been heard from again, there had to be a reason. Something, or someone, chose these specific people, for whatever purpose. It was your job to figure out why those people.

Over the course of the next few days, nothing struck with you. None of it made any sense. Finally, you caved and talked to Spencer about it.

“So how is the case going? Got it cracked?” Spence questioned.

You let out a heavy sigh before groaning. “Actually, I think I need your help.”

“Oh no, we know it’s a tough one if you need me,” he said with a laugh.

“I just can’t figure this out. Here, let me run the profiles by you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

He listened to you inform him of all of the cases, all their demographics. By the time you were done, you could practically hear him frowning. “That’s really odd. There has to be some kind of common denominator.”

“I know but… nothing.”

“No, no. Let’s look more closely. Do you need Garcia to run their backgrounds? Same high schools? Any familial relations?”

“That’s a good idea,” I murmured. “I’ll do it myself though. I’ll dig as much as I can and if I get lost again, I’ll have her run them through the database and see if any hits show up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, at the very least, they all lived in Miami at the time of their disappearance, so there’s that.”

“It’s a start.”

----------------------

As you dug deeper and deeper though, you found that most of the people had been through Miami Police Department as suspects, arrested, or even a ticket. Somehow, they had a run in with the law. Not all of them had been in trouble, some were actually stand up citizens in the community, or so it seemed. But unsubs don’t just take some people, then switch it up and take the opposite.

So you took it upon yourself to head up the investigation in the Miami police department. You began to question the cyber crimes unit, seeing as some of these people never came in contact with the police, maybe their browsing history did. Maybe they pissed off the wrong person. After a day of questioning the entire unit though, no one fit any loose profile you might have built.

The following day that you only held a morning class, you headed straight to the narcotics department. Maybe some of the well-to-do men and women that had been missing, kidnapped, or killed, whatever their fate was, were involved in some crazy drug ring, but the officer couldn’t get good evidence on them.

However, that was quickly a bust too. Miami and their police had no problem busting drug rings for coke, heroin, and pot. Their detectives seemed open and honest and most of them admitted to knowing some of the missing persons but it would go as far as, “Yeah, I arrested them,” or “Sure, I saw them, I think they were in the station in booking at one point.” Not exactly real motives.

None of this felt right.

Well, you couldn’t do anything about that now. Thursday and Friday were booked solid with classes and a meeting for the psychology professors.

Again, Saturday and Sunday you spent investigating and apartment hunting. Finally, you found a place for the apartment. Economical, good part of town. You didn’t need a lot, a bed and a kitchenette. All the paperwork was settled on Saturday and you were moved in by Sunday afternoon, the files spread all over the floor as you studied them.

Monday came and you had classes starting at noon, but that left your morning open so you got up bright and early and went to the homicides department. That’s when everything started to feel a lot more promising.

“Lieutenant LaGuerta?” you asked, poking your head into an office in the back of this section of the station.

“Yes?” she responded, lifting her head from a pile of papers.

“Hi, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Y/N Reid of the FBI,” you stated as you walked in and extended your hand. She took it and shook your hand, a frown coming on her face. “I’m here to investigate some missing persons.”

“Oh? Under whose authority?”

“The FBI’s, ma’am. I’ve already conducted some questioning in the other units. This is the last stop on my tour,” you noted with a laugh to which she gave you a somewhat hesitant, forced polite laugh.

“I don’t recall anyone telling me you’d be down.”

“Well, it’s not exactly under the radar, but we aren’t advertising that the FBI is actively investigating,” you explained.

“I see. Don’t you all usually come down only if it’s crossed state lines?”

You couldn’t help but wonder why all the animosity. Sure, cops were territorial, and no one liked anyone coming in and saying, “You can’t do your job so I’m here to do it for you.” But the fact of the matter was, there were eighteen missing people and Miami was the hub of it all and that’s the lead you needed to follow.

You grinned, looking down, humming. “We don’t, usually. But our Florida division is stumped so, they brought me in.”

“Wow, a whole team is bankrupt of a lead, and you have one. Impressive.”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip and ask, “I’m sorry, does my presence here offend you in some way?”

“I just don’t want you wasting my units time with pointless questions about missing persons we probably know nothing about.”

You nodded. “I understand, but I would hope, as a fellow law enforcement officer, the goal would be to check all avenues first and make sure these missing persons are found and justice is served. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’ll tell my supervisor back in D.C. that the Lieutenant doesn’t want me snooping around this case.”

Your eyes leveled with hers, challenging her. You weren’t typically someone to throw your weight or rank around, or even start confrontation, but you had a job, a duty to do and this woman seemed adamant against helping you in that endeavor.

She grinned politely. “You’re right. I apologize. What can I help with?”

“First off, do any of these people look familiar?” You pulled out the paper that you’d photocopied all of the pictures and wrote their names, ages, and sex below it. Rather than tossing out eighteen files

She glanced through the pages. “Uh, yeah, a handful of them. The names ring a bell too. These your missing people?”

You nodded. “Yes, they are. Would you happen to know anything about any of them? If any of them moved after a trial or perhaps ran? Not all of them have a criminal background but about half do.”

“And the other half?”

“Mostly spotless, relatively good citizens, but where I come from, victimology doesn’t swing on a pendulum like that.”

“Alright, well, all I can say is that yeah some of them are familiar.”

“Would you mind if I questioned your detectives?” you wondered.

“Not at all. I’ll introduce you and you can proceed how you like.”

She took you out to the common area where she introduced you to Sergeant Doakes, Detective Batista, Forensics specialist Masuka, Detective Morgan, and forensic specialist Morgan.

“She’s conducting an investigation for the FBI, please assist her any way you can. Dr. Reid, you can use the conference room to do questioning.”

You thanked Lieutenant LaGuerta and decided to just go down the list from highest ranking to lowest ranking. Sergeant Doakes was first.

“Hi, Sergeant Doakes,” you greeted as you sat down in front of him. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

He merely nodded.

“I’m going to show you some people, and I’d like you to tell me if you recognize any of them?”

“Alright,” he said with a shrug.

You slid the papers in front of him, and waited for a reaction, gauging anything he did. An eyebrow twitch, a clenching of the jaw. Anything.

Yet, you saw nothing but a studious eye from a good detective.

“Yeah, I have seen some of these people. Booked a few of them myself. Sonsabitches got away on some bullshit their lawyer pulled. Why?”

“They’re missing,” you informed with a cocked brow. You wondered if he would change his less caring manner, but he didn’t.

“So you want to know if I’ve seen them?”

“Or where they might’ve gone. Did any of them seem like they had other connections that might help them disappear?”

“I don’t know. Some might’ve,” he agreed.

“I’m not convinced all of these people are victims. Some may have very well gotten involved in some things they didn’t know how to get out of. Some may have just ran. I’m just checking all avenues.”

“Makes sense,” he stated. “What’s your gut say?” he wondered.

You sighed as you shook your head. “I don’t really know. I’ve got people with criminal backgrounds, others with nothing at all except attending church and a perfect attendance at work.”

“Be kind of weird for all these people to all skip town.”

“Yes, it would be. But Miami is big, with a lot of transient people, and it isn’t exactly Cookie Cutter, USA.”

“True. So you got any more questions for me?”

You shook your head again. “No. If you can think of anything, where they might’ve gone. I’d appreciate it.”

He nodded and stood. You asked if he could send in Batista.

Questioning with him was much easier. He seemed a lot more easy going and he seemed more willing to share information. Your gut didn’t tell you it was him though. It didn’t tell you it was Doakes either. Batista felt more of a “I like justice being served” kind, while Doakes felt more like a “criminals get what they deserve.” But that didn’t make you suspect him.

Next was Masuka, then Debra Morgan.

Debra was a colorful character but clearly not witty enough to carry out a crime. She was bright enough to solve a crime, but not stage one, let alone eighteen. Masuka was just as bad, if not worse. He seemed oblivious, and not on purpose. He said he didn’t recognize two of the missing people, but when you reminded him that he’d investigated two of their crimes he suddenly remembered all the details of the case. He was spacey, not covering anything up. But spacey doesn’t bode well for anyone who may have abducted eighteen people.

Finally, Dexter Morgan, Detective Morgan’s brother met you in the conference room.

“Hi, Dexter, I’m Dr. Reid.”

“Doctor of what?” he asked casually as he leaned back and smiled. That smile didn’t seem… sincere. Oh, it felt sincere on him, but not a friendly, polite smile. It was a smile of… an inside joke.

“Doctor of psychology,” you stated with a grin.

“Love the mind, do you?”

“Yes, Mr. Morgan. I am really interested in what makes people tick.” You flashed him a smile that served as a warning not to fuck with you.

“Me too.” He smirked quickly before hiding it with a serious face but it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“So you and your sister work together? That’s nice,” you remarked.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you not get along?”

“We do. We’re really close, but everyone needs space, privacy now and then.”

You nodded. “Mm. I understand. I work with my husband. We met on the job, and work together on the same team, and obviously live together.”

Dexter stared at you for a second before speaking. “Wow. That’s a lot of time together.”

You bobbed your head in agreement. “Yes, it is. But I’m down here now. He’s back in D.C.”

“You’re just down here for this case?”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Actually, I’m teaching at the University. A new forensic psych class. But I believe I need to be questioning you, Mr. Morgan,” you reminded.

He chuckled, nodding. “Right, right. Go ahead.”

That bothered you. All of the other people that had come in weren’t as relaxed as him. Masuka and Batista might’ve been a little lax, but he was entirely too at ease. Almost smug. Not to mention the smirk and the fact that he was trying to find out much about you, and delaying the questioning.

You pushed the pictures across to him.

“Tell me what you know about these people,” you ordered. You didn’t even bother asking if he knew them, because you knew he did. He had to have known them. All of his colleagues did.

He looked at the pictures, a good amount of time. Not too long to pretend which ones he knew and which ones he didn’t. But not so short that it was curious how he could dismiss it so quickly.

He picked out about five of them that he knew, what he knew about them, then smiled and sat back. The smile. That’s what got you. Batista, Morgan, when they were done telling you what they knew they would look up at you expectantly. Wondering if you were profiling them, wondering if they’d satisfied you, wondering if they needed to go on, wondering if they were under suspicion.

Not Dexter. For some reason, he smiled.

Did he think that’s what he was supposed to do? Did he think innocent people smiled when shown a list of missing persons? It wasn’t smug, not the smile itself, but the action of smiling. A gut feeling formed and it was aimed right at him. You knew he had something to do with this. Whether he abducted them or knew where they went or who took them, he knew something about it.

“Do you have any reason to believe these people would run after committing the crimes they did or getting arrested?”

“I can’t speak to other people’s motives, Dr. Reid.”

A bemused smile fell on your face. “You aren’t on trial here, Mr. Morgan.”

“I know that.”

“So then tell me, you interacted with these people. Did they seem like the type to run?”

“People are capable of all kinds of things. This guy here who was involved in that armed robbery, probably not. But take this guy who murdered a twenty-one year old girl, he might have.”

“He was acquitted. Said there wasn’t enough evidence to hold him.”

“He might have feared retrial. Maybe his life was ruined down here.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, peering at him.

“It’s a shame though. Lots of people missing.”

You nodded. “Mhm, eighteen people.”

“Have you talked to their families? Maybe they know something. I mean, we just arrest them here.”

“Well, you don’t,” you corrected. “You investigate the crime scene. You tell your colleagues if the person is capable of doing it, based on their strength, size, height.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re rather familiar with crime scenes, and what they look for, and what they don’t look for… Who’s capable of doing criminal acts…” You were pacing at this point, talking to him, thinking out loud.

“That’s right. It’s my job to know exactly how someone could or might kill, and how they might clean it up. Just like it’s your job to profile people based on age, sex, and whether or not they have mommy or daddy issues,” he said, his voice getting a bit more agitated than it had been.

You couldn’t help the grin that popped onto your face. “You don’t believe in profiling?”

“I believe that people aren’t so black and white. I believe that you all like to think you can put people in a box with a pretty ribbon and say ‘Here, this one is a textbook psychopath who kills women because his mother beat him for masturbating when he was fifteen’.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about my job.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

“Check my track record,” you challenged with a gleam in your eye. “Profiling isn’t breaking people down with textbook definitions and diagnosis. We look at victimology, and branch out. If the victims aren’t related in any way, much like my missing persons, we have to seek out the one thing that is common for them. For Dahmer it was young men. For Bundy it was women. Gacy, little boys. Jack the Ripper, prostitutes. You get the picture. Whether you like to believe it or not, Mr. Morgan, killers have a type, a style. It can be obvious like sex, or something small. For whoever may have kidnapped these people, I’m sensing a trace of vigilante,” you informed. You hadn’t told anyone this yet.

“Why?”

“Because it’s simple. About half of these people have had run ins with the law and for whatever reason they were back out on the street. The other ones have picture perfect lives that are just a little too picture perfect for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think these people all committed crimes, whether or not they were caught by police is another thing. I also think that the person who took these people knew about some sort of shady past.”

“That’s quite the theory.”

“Exactly. Only a theory. Once I talk to all of these families, I’ll be back for further questioning.”

“Does that mean we’re done?”

You gave him a polite smile. “It does. So far all of you have admitted to knowing some of these people, and the rest, well the rest are just perfect citizens that I need to figure out how they’re related to these criminals.”

“Sounds like you have quite the task, going around to eighteen families.”

“It may take a bit, but I’ll get it done.”

“Between that and teaching, has to be a lot.”

“It’s my job, Mr. Morgan. I can make it work.”

“I bet you can.”

With that, you two said your goodbyes and you went back to your apartment.

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

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

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@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

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Spencer Reid

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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liaincursives · 4 years

Text

These feelings I got/Lucas’ season

Previous part / all parts together on ao3

And here’s the next part. Lucas seems be good at making friends. Enjoy guys. (I hate writing school scenes, especially because I am like influenced by 3 different school systems, but this isn’t as abad as I expected it to. be)

Monday 12:07

Lucas left the room of his history class, letting the huge book he just got slip into his backpack. His overall impression of the classes he had had so far wasn’t bad. The Belgian students were at the same topics as he had been in the Netherlands and even though the massive flemish accent of some of the teacher made it difficult to follow along, he was pretty optimistic about his grades here.

He went to his locker to get rid of his books. The woman in the office had given him a tiny introduction to the flemish school system in the morning, but Lucas had arrived pretty late, so she didn’t have enough time to explain him how the lockers worked and just handed him a quickly written post-it with the number of the locker, so now Lucas was standing in front of a wall of grey lockers, trying to figure out which one belonged to him. The little key in his hand was cold as he stepped toward a row of lockers. The row was numbered from 130 to 150 and a look on the post-it told him to get to locker 143, so he should find his locker here.

“Excuse me, but you are standing in front of my locker and I need to get something, could you..?”, he heard a voice next to him. “Oh, yeah, for sure. Sorry, I was just looking for my own locker,” said. The owner of the voice, a girl with red-blondish hair, a light grey turtleneck and a blue scarf was giving him a surprised look. “Are you new here? Sorry that I ask, your accent is just making me a bit curious and it’s the middle of the year, so it’s kinda unusual if someone doesn’t know where their locker is.” “Yes I am, I mean it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” “Well, then welcome here. Which number are you looking for? I am Britt by the way,” Lucas showed her the post-it and she pointed to a locker directly next just had opened. “I’m Lucas,” he said while putting the two books into the locker. “Wait, we are in the same math class I think. You are from the Netherlands, aren’t you? How come that you transferred school in the middle of the year?” “I lived in Utrecht. Let’s say there were a few family issues, so I needed to move and my dad didn’t want me to just live with a few friends, but I don’t really want talk about it.” “Well that’s okay. I guess today’s your first day here, isn’t it? If you want to, I can introduce you to a few friends mine so you areen’t completely lost here,” she answered. “That would actually be great, I don’t know, you Belgians are a bit weird and you guy seem so, I don’t know, reserved. I think having a wingman for making friends could be helpful,” Lucas said smiling and Britt gave a warm smile back.

Lucas spent his lunch break with Britt and a few of her friends, telling stories about his life in the Netherlands and getting anecdotes of Britts their life in return. Britts eyes were hanging non his lips while they were discussing which country had the better weed and Lucas noticed how she attempted to flirt with him. He was used to this, he had hooked up with so many girls, trying to prove himself that he wasn’t into Kes or boys in general, but none of them never made his heart beat as fast as some boys did. He had tried to make himself feel something for girls, he. Really did, but when he looked at girls, he could see that they were beautiful, but there was not more. During the train ride, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t hook up with girls here. He was just of hurting them and lying to himself and he wanted to use the opportunity to discover his feelings without being scared that his friends would judge him, since they weren’t here.

He was telling a story about the city trip they did last year, when a girl with short dark hair and a fringe cut joined the group. She was wearing a short red dress with a black jeans jacket, which looked really awesome and when she noticed Britts flirt attempts, she made pretty disappointed face, which Lucas noticed immediately. next to her, Lucas noticed a familiar brown jacket. The fcae of the boy looks a bit surprised, but then, he started smiling. “Wait, you are the boy from yesterday, aren’t you? Again, I am sorry, we din’t mean to like shock you or something,” she said. “You know Lucas?”, Britt asked surprised. “I didn’t know that his name was Lucas, I just know that Sander almost ran over him when I tried to teach him how to skate yesterday,” When Britt heard the name of the boy that Lucas guessed was the white-haired boy, she looked mad for a second, but then a slightly bitter grin appeared on her face.”Sander, skating? Why can’t I imagined that” “Honestly, it was kind of a bad idea,” the boy said.

The girl with the fringe looked at the boy: “Anyways Robbe, you didn’t come with me to talk about your boyfriend, did you?” “Well, you got a point. So I don’t know. If you heard it, but Jana is already leaving next Thursday and Zoë wanted to throw a surprise party for her on Friday and Jana would be happy if you are there I guess. She wanted one of us to ask you in person, because she wants to be sure that everyone is actually coming and she said that you should text if you are coming,” Robbe said. “Thanks for letting me know, I need to check with my parents, I was actually supposed to take care of my sister, but it’s Jana, so they will find an alternative,” Britt said. Then, the boy looked at Lucas again. “If you want to, I can show you a few of the skater spots here. Take it as an excuse for almost killing you yesterday,” Lucas couldn’t say no to that offer and Robbe and him exchanged their instagram accounts before Robbe left to meet up with his friends.

The girl with the fringe looked at Britt and they both bursted out in laughers. “I am Noor. And sorry, but that was just awkward,” she said with tears in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t quite understand what’s so funny” “ Oh believe me, sometimes I don’t this whole situation myself,” Britt laughter. “That guy is the boyfriend of my ex boyfriend and Noors ex at the same time and they are still good friends. Sometimes I really wish I had your self control Noor. How can you not want to kill him or Sander?”, Britt said. “But anyways, I was going to introduce you to him anyways, I think you would be a good extension to their friend group”,Noor pulled a face in the second the school bell rang and with joy, Lucas realised that he had dutch with Noor. He liked the girls and he was happy that he could imagine him being friends with them.He just needed to make clear that he wasn’t interested in Britt, especially since Noor didn’t seem to appreciate that little fact at all.

Next Part

#tfig #wtfock #skam dutch #lucas van der heijden #van der stoffels #skam nl

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brookswackermanfeetcam · 3 years

Note

You should do all of them questions and 90 is true

I love you!!!!

1. Favorite instrument?

I work at a music store u can’t just ask me this. When my coworkers play it’s the saxophone or the flute, when the boys in the repair shop are testing repairs and they harmonize with each other or try to outplay one another it’s the bassoon or the trombone or whatever they’re fixing at the moment. When I hear 🎺 give his lesson on Wednesday afternoons it’s the trumpet, and when I think about middle school it’s the clarinet, the flute, the French horn. When I hear the nutcracker pas des deux is the oboe and when I hear edith piaf l’accordeoniste it’s the remarkable human voice. Really my favorite instrument is all of them, it just depends.

2. Favorite fic trope? Mutual pining 🥺

3. Sport you played for the longest amount of time? LMAO I wasn’t a sporty kid but I did ballet

4. Shoe size? 10-11

5. Most recent (good) dream? Uhh I had a dream last night about my coworker 🎹 it wasn’t bad though I can’t really remember what it was about

6. Last person in your DMs? smugg

7. Can you do a handstand? Nooo nooo lmaoo nooooo

8. Unpopular food opinion I don’t like oranges or red meat

9. Conspiracy you believe in? There’s some kind of weird weather dome in my hometown around the military base that makes most storms pass around us

10. Is your hair its natural color/style? Most of it is I dyed the bottom layer of my hair tho so it’s blonde rn

11. state a useless fact all that’s coming to mind is outright lies rn hold on. The inventor of pringles is buried in a pringles can that’s so fucking nasty omg

12. most interesting gossip you’ve heard? Idk I don’t really care for gossip uhhhh have u heard tho rin dippindogs is a huge gay hah she uhh she like men AND women lmao gaaay gaaaay

13. Middle name? Carolyn

14. Sexuality? Bisexual

15. Amount of sleep you got last night? Idk actually I think like 9-10 hrs tho I slept in until 11

16. Opinion on ice cream cake? Tasty!!!

17. Opinion on (cup)cake frosting? It’s depends buttercream is usually too sweet for me in large amounts so I prefer whipped cream frosting

18. Last board game you played? Idk??? We played hunt a killer tho last Thursday me n my family I guess that counts kinda

19. Project you want to start? I need ideas first baby

20. Project you’re working on right now? HAHAHAHAHAHA

21. TV show you’re watching? nothing rn I just rewatch bojack a lot if I watch anything

22. Last movie you watched? Lego batman I think

23. Ever left anon hate? Not legit hate

24. Ever left anon love? Yes all the time. Sometimes to strangers it’s my favorite thing to do

25. Best Disney movie? The princess and the frog

26. Best Pixar movie? Soul or Up I can’t decide

27. Best Star Wars? Um. Empire strikes back

28. Last thing you consumed? Fuit gumy

29. NoTP? Idk I don’t really hate ships unless they’re gross like pedophilic gross

30. story behind your (nick)name? When I was a fetus my great grandfather had a dream that my name should be Carolyn Marie but my parents were huge dweebs so they named me Marina after the actress of Deanna Troi in Star Trek. Idk about my nickname ive just always been Rina/Rin as long as I can remember

31. ice cream order? Lately it’s lemon sorbetto I know it’s SO high in sugar but I love it

32. describe your blog in <5 words I love you

33. how many blogs do you follow? 436

34. Describe your voice it depends usually I sound like a sick child but my customer service voice is really pleasant

35. Describe your smile it’s cute :)

36. What is the place you live known for? LMAOOO LMAO we have a military base nearby and like. I could go on abt that one but also like. There’s a lot of gang violence and a lot of the other consequences of poverty. People from the cities around us see us as “””ghetto””” or violent but it’s just. It’s more than that it’s always more than that. And idk what else there’s nothing really particularly special about this town except that we’re all here and not anywhere else

37. What is the place you’re originally from known for? (if they’re different)

38. pronouns? she/any idc

39. Languages you speak? English

40. first friend you made through tumblr? Idk. I probably don’t talk to them anymore :(

41. Person on tumblr you know in real life? my brother

42. First dog breed you think of shih tzu I have 2 next to me rn

43. room wall color? Purble!!!! The paint color is called grape juice that’s why I picked it!!!

44. Song that’s stuck in your head right now? It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time it’s trickyyyyy

45. Favorite number? 5, 34

46. Color you associate with your name? Red

47. Favorite jolly rancher flavor?watermelon

48. Pets? 2 dogs rocket and groot and 4 cats loki danni who r from the same litter and we raised from kittens, miss kitty who we adopted from a shelter after my boy blue moon passed away and ben (his real name is Kylo Ren thanks to my mom but I refuse to call him that) he is my little baby and he has 7 toes on his front paws

49. Collections? Hot wheels

50. Character outside of your fandom you’d marry? Girl what lmaooo idk

51. Character outside of your fandom you’d kill? That’s mean :(

52. Have you met any celebrities? NO thank god id have to kill on sight

53. Favorite time period in history? Itslian Renaissance & Romantic Era

54. What time is it right now? 2:35 am oops

55. History or future? Future but like . A good one. Or prehistory

56. Space or ocean? Space

57. Fears? Abandonment

58. Command + v and post. It’s this list of questions u don’t want that

59. Favorite season? Spring

60. Describe your aesthetic. Messy just a mess, neon and old buildings and things, antiques, countryside if there weren’t so many trump pence flags still lmaoo give uppp give up, nature just al of nature and space and places humans can’t touch and places they used to touch but can’t anymore

61. MBTI? Infp but I haven’t taken it in a few years

62. What’s your relationship with your family like? Normal.

63. “Biggest fan” in your tumblr activity? I’m in mobile hold on acc to tumblr it’s akky

64. Favorite musical? Sweeney todd

65. Comfort book? Idk how to read 💔💔💔 wuthering heights tho

66. Comfort movie? Whisper of the heart

67. OTP? Girl idk

68. BroTP? Joey and Tristan yugioh

69. AUs or canon compliant? Canon ig idk

70. Opinion on the person who’s sending the ask? It’s an anon!! But I love them

71. FMK + 3 characters anon didnt leave any characters and I was going to say something very bad but I won’t

72. Dream date? I’ve wanted to do this for a while but ideally it would be after we’d been together a while maybe even engaged or whatever, I wanna go to like a Home Depot or a furniture store and pretend to be married and looking for house paints and furniture and plan what our home is going to look like I wanna do that so bad. But idk for a first/early relationship date i really want to go to the zilker botanical garden it’s one of my favorite places, we could also go to the natural gardener which is a plant nursery in Austin I really love it there too and it’s not that far from zilker.

73. Relationship status? Single

74. Ever dyed your hair? Do you plan to? Yes and perhaps. Maybe

75. Dream job/career? Idk anymore I used to have big girl goals and I haven’t had any in a while. But when I was younger I wanted to be a game warden

76. Favorite band/singer? Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

77. Something that makes you soft/that you find adorable? My cats

78. The first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Buy a house

79. Are you superstitious? Yes

80. Character you project onto? Shizuku tsukishima

81. Fictional character you’ve had a crush on? Vergil devil may cry. Forever husband

82. Celebrity crush? LMAO

83. Person on here you’d date? my mutuals

84. Person on here you’d marry? 🥺 my mutuals

85. Person on here you’d throw into the void? Smugg

86. Other social media you have? I’ve got a photography insta that I barely use and a Twitter that’s just nintendo switch screenies that’s it

87. Finish the sentence: Due to personal reasons, ___________i will be passing away

88. Bad habit? I find it rlly hard to say no or like to say when and why I’m upset I don’t feel like for the latter I don’t feel like I should bring something that’s upsetting me up because I know I’ll get over it on my own and I don’t really trust myself to be upset about rational things. Idk I’m working on it

89. Three things you like about yourself? I’m hot, I’m kind, I’m resilient

90. Ily and you deserve the world I love you!!!!! YOU deserve it too!!!

#askies #anonymous #long post /#thank u!!

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twdeadfanfic · 5 years

Text

Golden Cage Pt.6

DARYL DIXON X READER

Summary: The reader is one of Negan’s wives, kept against her will in the golden cage that is the Sanctuary. When they brought Daryl in, she can’t take to see more suffering, and she tries helping him, until she gathers enough courage to ask him to help her run away from there.

Set in season 7, 8 and (sort of) 9. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, there’s some fluff in here sometimes too, and also language, violence, and all those twd kind of things.

Disclaimer: For me, and as much as I love the actor and I think him an interesting character, Negan is a villain, and in this story, he’s certanly the villain in Reader’s life. So if you don’t like to see portrayed Negan like that, then please don’t read instead of sending hate…

Chapter 5/24 Updated twice a week, posting Monday and Thursday

If you want to read more of my Daryl Dixon stories (long series, mini-series, one shots…) check my MASTERLIST on the description of this blog.

Thanks to the people who’s still reading this <3

...........................................................................................................

“What are you doing?!”

You had just caught Sherry smuggling things into a bag like you would do before going to the infirmary’s storeroom to work with Daryl, though she was getting in more than you’d have ever dared, enough to last a few days. That wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m leaving,” the woman replied hushedly.

“What? Where?”

“Out of here.” Sherry closed her bag and looked at you. “I can’t live in here anymore. I can’t keep playing with Negan, I can’t keep seeing Dwight like that, it’s all my fault. I can’t stay in here anymore. I know you can’t either.”

“They’ll see you! They’ll go after you again, they’ll bring you back and they’ll punish you!” You understood Sherry but it was too dangerous. “Maybe he’ll kill you this time!”

“I don’t care, it’d be worthy.” Sherry shook her head, stubborn. “Besides, I have everything planned, I’ve been planning it for a while now. They won’t see me, and they won’t find out today. You won’t tell them, will you?”

“Of course not!” Still, you were afraid of what might happen to Sherry once Negan noticed she was missing. Still, if she was set on leaving and you couldn’t stop her, then you’d cover for her for as long as you could.

“Y/N, you should come.”

“What?” You blinked at Sherry, dumbfounded.

“I know you hate being here too, you said you didn’t think you could keep dealing with this.” You had confessed it to her during an anxiety attack. “Today we could leave this place for good. At least we could try.”

“It’s too dangerous, I told you, they could find us, they’ll search for us nonstop, and when they find us…” You shuddered and placed your hand on your belly. It was tempting, but you couldn’t. “I can’t, you know I can’t think only on me.”

“That’s more reason to leave. You want to have a baby in here? Growing up in here? With him? You know he’ll make sure it’s his, not yours.”

You knew, you felt like that too, but still, trying to leave sounded too dangerous. They’d find you and they’d throw you into a cell, kept alive and healthy until your baby was born and then they’d take your baby away from you and you wouldn’t see them anymore, wouldn’t be there to care for them…you were too scared to try to escape.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.” You whimpered.

“Alright. I wish you came though.” Sherry teared up a bit but she rubbed her eyes. “I have to go, but if you change your mind…” She rummaged into her pocket and handed you a piece of paper. “I have written here all the Sanctuary spots with less vigilance, the change of shifts, who covers which shift, everything. I’ve memorized it, I don’t need it, but I want you to have it, you know, just in case…”

“Thank you…” You took the paper, feeling tears in your eyes. You wished you were as brave, but you couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could be wrong. “Please, be careful. I’m going to miss you so much but I hope I won’t ever see you here again.”

“Me too.” Sherry chuckled sadly and wrapped his arms around you for a brief hug. “Also, I know what you’ve been doing for Daryl. He’s a good man. I’m going to try to help him.”

“What…how?”

“I stole it from Dwight, he didn’t notice.” Sherry took a key out of her pocket. “It’s from his cell. I’ll push it under his door, give him a chance.”

You nodded. You were scared of Daryl risking it too, if they caught him he’d be punished and maybe even killed. But you also knew Daryl probably would rather die trying to escape that keep being captive in there, even if it broke your heart.

Without saying anything else, Sherry rushed away.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Sherry’s words, wondering if you’d made a huge mistake not going with her. But could you risk it? It was too dangerous, even if they didn’t see you leaving, they’d go after you once they noticed it and they’d find you and punish you. And yet…

Was it worth a try, as Sherry’d said? Would it be worth risking it, trying to run away, if that meant maybe getting a chance of freeing yourself from Negan and raise your baby far from there? You didn’t know. You knew what would Sherry and Daryl say.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it all. Negan might find you if you ran away, but what would he do? He wouldn’t hurt his baby. He’d keep you safe and healthy, no matter what, at least until the baby was born. Then he’d take the baby away from you and he’d punish you or kill you. But you didn’t know what was better, keep living in that place or die trying to run away? You didn’t know. What would be worse, leaving your baby without his mother or not trying to get him away from there and Negan? You didn’t know either.

You looked around at your golden cell and at some of the wives. Even if you were killed, your baby would for sure had a mother, someone to look after them who weren’t Negan or Saviors…so maybe if you were punished and killed for trying to run away if you didn’t manage it, it wouldn’t be so bad for the baby.

That, if you didn’t die trying. If you didn’t get yourself killed by a walker, of hunger, of exposition…then your baby would die, either after or before they were born. Could you look after them out there? You didn’t think you could survive out there…

You heard Amber sobbing on a sofa. Just the day before, Negan had burnt her boyfriend’s face for suspecting he and Amber were still seeing each other. Right now the boy was battling an infection, and you weren’t sure he’d pull through. Amy was so devastated it broke your heart. You felt sick to your stomach. You hated Negan and that horrible place.

No, no. You couldn’t stay in there. You couldn’t keep dealing with it all, you couldn’t take it anymore.

How could you leave now, alone? You should have gone with Sherry. You weren’t sure you could do it on your own. You weren’t sure you would survive out there. You wondered…had she really given Daryl the key of the cell? Would he try to escape? And if he would…would he took you with him, if you tried to run away too? And would you go with him? You knew he could survive out there, would he help you? Would he want to? You had trusted he wouldn’t hurt you while working with him alone, but you were Negan’s wive, carrying his baby, wouldn’t he try to use that for his benefit? Or maybe their people? Maybe they’d want to pay with you what Negan had done to them…

But you couldn’t see Daryl like that. Sure, maybe you didn’t really know him, and yet, you felt he was a good man. Someone who wouldn’t hurt you…who maybe would help you be safe out there…you didn’t know…

You took a last glance at Amber while she kept crying and you made your decision. You couldn’t stay in that hell of a Sanctuary any longer. You couldn’t have your baby growing up there, not if there was a chance you could escape the place.

Trying not to catch attention onto you, you left the room. You didn’t even dare to take food or anything. As you walked through the corridors you kept calling yourself an idiot, you should have left with Sherry, she had food and all…

Maybe Daryl had already left too, maybe you wouldn’t find him. Or maybe Sherry and him had left together. Or maybe he wouldn’t dare to try…Or maybe they had already been caught…

You made your way to his cell but your questions were answered before reaching it, as you saw the door of a room opening and Daryl rushing out. You yelped, startled, before realizing it was him. He seemed surprised to find someone too, before noticing it was you. Before you could say anything, he’d grabbed your arm and pushed you into the room with him.

“It was you?” He demanded before you even had time to breathe. “It’s some sort of trick?” He threw a piece of paper at you and you saw it was a note from Sherry, though it wasn’t signed.

“It was Sherry,” you explained, your voice shaky and scared. “She has run away, said she’d help you too. And also she gave me this.” You took the paper in which Sherry’d written the guard shifts and gave it to Daryl, who began reading it quickly. You took a deep breath, tried to be brave, and stepped closer to him. “Help me out of here, please, Daryl.” His eyes snapped up at you at that, frowning. “I can’t stay in here any longer. But I don’t think I can make it on my own. Let me go with you…please?”

Daryl frowned at you, looking at you in silence for what felt eternal to you, before finally speaking. “You sure?” You nodded your head quick, even though your heart was beating fast, scared. Daryl looked at you up and down again but finally nodded. “Come on.”

“Wait!” You took Daryl’s arm and pointed at the piece of paper. “See this guard here? Joe? He’s not very good at his job, he’d left the door unattended a few times before but he’s lucky Negan didn’t catch him, I think it could be our best shot.”

“Okay…”

You followed Daryl as quietly as possible, navigating through the Sanctuary corridors, your heart in your throat, expecting to find a savior in each corner, but you both managed to reach the door without finding trouble.

“Wait.” You stopped Daryl when he was about to open the door. “I’ll go first, if there’s someone they’ll suspect less from me.”

Daryl seemed doubtful but then he nodded, letting you step in front of him. You took a deep breath and opened the door. You peered outside but Joe didn’t seem to be there, neither anyone else. “Come on,” you whispered to Daryl.

You hadn’t even walked a few steps when Joe showed up, unarmed and seeming oblivious to everything. Damn it, damn it. You made sure to stay in front of Daryl, in case Joe took his gun, he wouldn’t dare to shot Negan’s pregnant wife. You noticed how scared he seemed as he spotted you, though, as he raised his arms above his head. You looked back and realized Daryl had grabbed a metal pipe from somewhere, a scary, wild look in his eyes.

“Please, no, please,” Joe begged. “Please, you can leave, I don’t care. But she has to stay, Negan would kill me if she’s missing.”

“Joe, I’m leaving,” you said firmly, though Daryl was already stepping in front of you, raising the pipe. “Don’t try to stop us okay?”

“Alright, alright! I won’t try to stop you!”

Joe seemed even more scared as Daryl approached, and despite his words, Daryl raised the pipe and bashed it into Joe’s skull. You clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream that you couldn’t help but let out. Joe wasn’t moving anymore but Daryl kept hitting him and hitting him, and you tried not to get overcome by an anxiety attack, tried to control how your stomach turned. You knew Joe had done things as vile as any other savior, that he probably had beaten up Daryl, but still, you were horrified.

“Daryl…” You tried to be brave and approached him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Daryl, please, stop, we have to leave, please.”

Daryl stopped, turning to look at you, eyes still wild and dangerous, his face splashed with blood. You couldn’t help but be scared. After that first day working with him, you’d been sure Daryl wouldn’t hurt you, but you had never seen him like this. Still, you could see something else behind his eyes, something vulnerable. You couldn’t help but be scared, but you also couldn’t help but trust he wouldn’t hurt you.

He was breathing hard but he seemed to slowly come back to himself as he looked at you. He nodded and looked around, spotting the bikes that were parked there, but before any of you did anything, a voice called for him.

“Daryl…”

You followed the voice and found a man with long hair and clear eyes, looking at you both. You were pretty sure he wasn't a Savior and you were confused, but Daryl didn't seem to consider him a threat.

“I've got the keys.” The man looked from Daryl to the body of Joe, but he nodded towards the bikes that were parked near before his eyes found you. “Who's that?”

Daryl looked at you and then at Jesus, and suddenly you were afraid of what Daryl might say, what that other man would think of you. He and Daryl seemed to know each other...maybe they'd leave you there now?

“Another prisoner. She's pregnant. We gotta take her out of here too.”

You looked at Daryl. He hadn't lied, not really, but he hadn't said the biggest truth. You didn't look forward to do it either.

The man frowned at you but nodded. “Alright… I'm Jesus. Come on.”

You wondered what he might think of you, how you must look, with your short black dress, your thighs with a rip that was getting bigger and bigger, and barefoot, since you had discarded your heels so you could move faster and silent. You must look terrified and out of sorts too, and Jesus gave you a kind smile.

Daryl and you followed that Jesus man to the bikes. Before you could ask what you were going to do, since you only had one set of keys and you three couldn’t go on one bike, Daryl took the knife from Jesus’ belt and began trying to hotwire one. You looked around anxiously, waiting for Saviors to come out of nowhere at any given moment, but it took Daryl less than what you were expecting to get the bike going.

“Come on,” he nodded towards you as he got on the bike, Jesus doing the same with the other one.

You’d never rode on a bike, and it seemed intimidating, but you went to sit down behind Daryl on the bike. The proximity to him was strange too, but as he kicked the bike into motion, you couldn’t help but place your hands on his waist, holding to him, fingers biting into his sweatshirt, and you felt Daryl tensing.

“Sorry...” You murmured to him, trying to relax your grip on him. “I’ve never been on a bike...”

“It’s okay.” You felt Daryl relax. “Just hold on, you’ll be okay.”

You didn’t relax until a while of riding, though, and your apprehension was back when you spotted the settlement where you guessed you were headed. It was bigger than your old camp, with a big, impressive mansion standing in the middle.

“I’m going to tell the guards, Maggie’s not going to believe this,” Jesus said as he stopped the bike, a big smile on his face.

“Maggie?” Could she be the girl Daryl’d told you about? “Maggie the pregnant one?”

“Maggie the pregnant one? I don’t think nobody calls her that.” Jesus looked at you, seeming confused but also amused. “But yeah, she’s pregnant.”

You looked at Daryl at that, smiling. “She’s alive!” Daryl didn’t say anything, didn’t smile, just kept his gaze down as he seemed to process it all. You guessed he needed time, after everything he’d gone through.

Jesus looked at you both but didn’t say anything, rushing to the place and disappearing from view. He’d seemed like a good man, but still, you couldn’t help but be anxious about what might happen now…will you be taken into that community? Would you be sent back to the Sanctuary as a goodwill offering? Would they punish you for what Negan had done to them? You didn’t know… You looked at Daryl through the corner of your eye. He’d helped you and had ensured you’d come with him to the settlement, but still, if the people didn’t want you there, you couldn’t expect him to back you up and made them take you in. You couldn’t help it, maybe you shouldn’t trust he’d keep helping you like that, he’d no reason to do so, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it.

............................................................................................

And they are out! I’m sorry if this chapter was disappointing, I feel it’ll be, let me know your thoughts? I think people are becoming disinterested in this, and I understand, so thanks to all of you who are still reading, and to the ones who leave me comments and make me feel better!

As always, thank you for reading, drop me a comment if you have time, and excuse my english and mistakes since it’s not my first language.

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angryknightstatesmantrash · 4 years

Text

It’ll Be Okay

A Criminal Minds One Shot

MY MASTERLIST

Requests and Tagslist open!

[I’m super willing to write more parts with London or to continue this part let me know in the requests!]

Original Focus Character: London Emma Schmidt, 17

Team Status: First few episodes of season 3 before Rossi→ Hotch, Reid, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, Garcia

Potential Triggers: Sexual abuse and assault → 2 potentially triggering scenes. One depicting the after thoughts and another briefly detailing what it looks like on the outside from a distance.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: Call 1-800-656-4673

London loved her job.

Sure, the pay sucked, but the hours were relatively constant, the people were amazing, and even though the team could function without her, they all pretend it couldn’t.

Working as a (low pay) intern at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was a dream come true for her. She had landed the gig through her councilor, who had handed her the pamphlet and application.

Mrs. VerHagen knew about her passion for going into some form of law enforcement or government, and how badly she wanted to join the bureau. With that knowledge, as soon as she saw the new intern program that would match one student to each unit in the building, she knew London would be interested.

As soon as the deadline had occurred, she received the letter she was accepted and would need to submit a skills profile so that each unit could choose which intern they felt would fit their team best. It all seemed very pet adoption style, but if it meant she had a better chance of making it into the FBI after high school, she would take it.

Once she submitted that, she waited another very anxious several months before getting word that the Behavior Analysis Unit had chosen her from all the survey talented individuals.

Since she was only a high school junior, seventeen years old, she couldn’t go on trips with the team’s and parent’s approval- which she knew would never happen- so she just stayed in the office, helping Garcia from her cave, or tidying things and filing old cases.

Today, however, was one of the days that she would go straight from her public high school to the bureau’s headquarter. She smiled at the main guard at the main entrance, letting them search her school bag and scan her employee badge clipped to the front pocket of her jean jacket.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she was greeted by JJ waving to her while walking from her office, “hey London, I have a few things for you to do today while you’re in, the list is sitting on your desk!”

“Sounds great, JJ! I’ll get right on it,” London called as they passed and she entered the bullpen and set her bag down onto her desk.

“Hey, Schmidt, did you make a coffee run?”

Moving her head to follow the voice she rolled her eyes at Special Agent Derek Morgan, one of the people she loved the most at the BAU, sitting at his desk, relaxing as he leaned against the desk of the person in the office she was closest with, Doctor Spencer Reid. “I didn’t know I was supposed to, I can see what the break room has, but I know you’ll still complain.”

Morgan laughed and outstretched his hand, an almost empty coffee mug hanging for her to grasp, “You know my order?”

London laughed and took the mug, “splash of milk one spoon of sugar, yeah, I know,” she laughed. Looking over to Spencer she raised her eyebrows, “want any Reid? I know your order, don’t worry.”

Spencer nodded and smiled at her, “Yeah, sure. Thanks, London. How was school?”

Shrugging, she leaned back against her desk with the mugs held in her hands. “As good as school can be, but hey, I don’t have to go back until 8am tomorrow.”

The two men laughed as she shrugged and moved to fill up the coffee mugs, “I’ll be back!”

After London filled and returned the mugs to her coworkers and a mug for herself, she started on the list that JJ had given her.

It was a simple list, just filling out some basic forms and organizing records. Sometimes spending so much time with the agents. She made small talk with the people around her.

Tricking Reid into doing her homework for her, throwing small things at Morgan while he wasn’t looking, and sending cat videos to the group chat she was in with JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia were just a few.

It wasn’t until Morgan spoke again that she remembered the time, and what waited for her at home, “Hey, Lon, it’s Tuesday, don’t you gotta be back home by 10?”

Looking up from her AP Chemistry homework, she nodded, “Yeah, why?”

Prentiss looked at the clock sitting on his desk before chiming in, “It’s 9:30 right now.”

Her heat dropped. She was already dreading going home for the fact it was the night of the week she hated wholeheartedly, but being late would make everything that much worse, “Shit, the bus leaves at 9:45, do you think I could make it?”

Reid looked at her, “Hey, I can drive you home, no problem.”

She shook her head, scrambling to shove her books in her bag, log out of the computer, and chug whatever was left at the bottom of her coffee mug, “Yeah, but that’ll only save a few minutes, I’ll still be late.”

At that point, London didn’t have time to allow herself to remember that not only did Reid hate people in his personal space but he also hated driving.

Morgan looked at Prentiss, they made eye contact with a mutual concern.

London was always punctual, that’s just how she was, but on Tuesdays towards the end of the night she was always that much more on edge, only for her to return on Thursday fine.

Once she had gotten ready at her desk at a seemingly superhuman speed, she looked at Spencer expectantly. “Chop chop, we gotta go, come on.”

With keys in hand, he was still grabbing his side bag while she all but dragged him out the office, neglecting the elevator after deeming it, “too time consuming and slow”.

Once they had gotten into the car, London’s leg wouldn’t stay still, it was bouncing and she was picking at her nails, something the team had quickly identified as her “tells”.

“So, are you going to explain why you’re in such a rush?” Spencer asked, seeing it as appropriate to have an explanation.

London shrugged before pointing the corner to turn leading him into a neighborhood that could not be easily classified into lower or middle class. It was the first time any of the team members had brought her home after her shift.

Once he pulled into the driveway, he moved to get out, but was interrupted by London stopping him with a forceful, “what are you doing?”

Spencer looked at her front door, which had the porch light on, and the man standing in the window before clarifying, “I was going to meet your dad and siblings, you talk about them all the time. More your siblings than dad, but still.”

It was a terrible idea. Bruce would be mad enough at London for being late, let alone if she brought someone home, let alone on a Tuesday night.

It wasn’t a secret to the team that her mother was dead, she was open about the ordeal. A drunk driving accident, something that was all too common. It was also true she talked about her younger siblings, little Lance and Jessica, all the time, she loved them and proved every Tuesday she would do anything for them. But the threat of her father, Bruce, out weighed the desire to introduce her family with her friends from the BAU.

Frantically shaking her head at him, her eyes darting from her father, to the clock on the dashboard reading that she was at least fifteen minutes late to curfew, and then Spencer. “No, no no no no, I’m sure you’ll get to meet them sometime but tonight won’t be it. I promise I’ll pick them up from school one day and take them to the office even. But right now I need to go.”

Before Reid could even argue, she was already out of the car and standing outside the front door. “I’ll see you and the rest of the team on Thursday! Have a good night and get some sleep!”

After the kind words she yelled at him she quickly entered her home, shut the door, and turned off the light.

Spencer knew that something was wrong, but nonetheless he drove away from the house and discussed the peculiarities of the situation with the team once he arrived back at the office.

While Reid drove back to the office, London was dealing with the rage of her father inside the home.

“You’re late.” The empty cans laid on the coffee table and refused to let her forget the impending doom that polluted the air around her.

“I know, I got wrapped up, it won’t happen again, I promise.” She looked to the kitchen table, “where are the kids? You know the deal, you do whatever you want to me but you don’t lay a hand on them.”

Downing the rest of the can he was holding, London’s father moved towards her, “I don’t care about what the brats do. What I do care about, is what we’re about to do, and I’m going to take my sweet time tonight,” the way he caressed the side of her face made her almost as sick as what was about to happen would, “sweetheart.”

Laying in her fathers bed, naked with tears streaming down her face and under the covers with him, all London could remember was when she hadn’t grown so numb to her father raping her.

She used to resist. Sometimes she wouldn’t go home on Tuesdays, as that was always the night he got so wasted he could barely remember who his own children were and would beat them senseless.

London learned the hard way that if she wasn’t there to take the brunt of it, it would go to her ten year old brother, or six year old sister, and she couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t like her older brother, Bryan, knew about it. Once mom died, dad spiraled, and Bryan left for college never to look back at just the right time.

So her father had his way with her every Tuesday night so long as she kept her grades up, he didn’t get black out wasted, and she met her 10 o’clock curfew every Tuesday night, and 11 o’clock curfew the rest of the week, or until her father decided to add an extra day to the schedule.

She knew that she would find herself back where she was tomorrow night, she was late, what should she have expected?

She was tired, she was so tired, more tired than she usually was on a night after. It was a Wednesday, the conveniently planned off-day unless she was called in to help JJ brief the team on a new case, something she had only been allowed to help with two or three times before.

She had drifted through the day ready to go home and get the torture and punishment of being late by her father, until her phone rang as the last bell rang.

Answering it she heard JJ’s lovely voice through the speakers asking for her to go into the office and help with a couple house/office keeping things, help out the team a bit overall.

London agreed, only asking if she could go in a bit later to set up Lance and Jessica’s dinner and evening situations. She felt bad for leaving them alone as often as she did, but on days she regularly had to go into her internship, she had arrangements with her kind neighbors established.

JJ, obviously, agreed.

It was around five thirty in the evening when London made her way into the office. She still smiled at the people she passed, and greeted the security guards who, although were confused about her break in schedule, were still happy to see her.

As soon as she got to her desk she dropped her bag, half heartedly waved at Prentiss who smiled brightly at her, and went to get the most needed mug of coffee probably ever.

Reid had approached her shortly after she sat down, “hey, are you alright? You seemed really upset last night.”

Glancing up from her laptop, London gave him a faint smile, “yeah, sorry about that. My dad’s just strict about curfew.”

Morgan chimed in from his desk, “only on Tuesday?”

London looked between Morgan and Reid before squinting her eyes and looking between them, “Yeah, my siblings get home earlier those days. Why? You guys better not be profiling me, there’s a rule against it for a reason.”

Reid shook his head and shrugged as he sipped his coffee, and Morgan leaned into watching as she stared into space after the three remaining in the situation for what felt like lifespans.

Nodding to Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss, who didn’t want to be directly a part of the investigation but was still invested in the girls wellbeing, watched as he placed his land on her arm.

Against their hopes, she flinched away and panicked, darting her eyes around the office and her breathing escalated. “What?”

Spencer just looked at her for a moment before asking, “I’m going to be done with paperwork early tonight, I can give you a ride home again tonight if you’d like.”

She looked at him before slowly agreeing, rubbing her forehead in her hand, “yeah, sure, sounds great. Curfew’s 10 again tonight, though.”

Spencer looked back to Morgan and subtly nodded before replying to the girl, “sounds good.”

After an odd car ride to London’s house filled with weirdly general but specific questions from Reid, she once again found herself standing inside the front door of her house, ready to let her father take advantage of her so long as it meant her siblings were safe.

Reid sat in his car parked outside of London’s house with his binoculars in one hand, and his phone in the other. It felt wrong that he was there, spying on his department’s intern that he had grown to become friends with.

Friends care about and help friends. London needed help. That much was clear and had been subtly obvious since day one, the only part left unclear was from what.

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) BEGINS***

He sat watching through the large front bay window as she stood to her father, which Garcia and other research found to be Bruce, until he pressed her against a wall and moved his face close to hers.

There was a look of resistance on London’s face before he said something that made it drop into defeat and she let her father push her down the hallway.

Spencer had a sick feeling in her stomach. So far, everything that was happening had matched with him, Morgan’s, and Prentiss’s theories. Someone was molesting their intern, they just weren’t sure who.

Watching through the window, Reid watched as London was pushed into the middle of the room. It looked like it was hers, the light blue walls seemed to fit the girl so well he wasn’t sure whose else room it could be.

Spencer hated watching, but he knew that if there was another witness it would make it that much easier to put the bastard away once this was over.

With that in mind, he watched as the girl shook her head at her father before he slapped her face, and moved to close the blinds.

He could still see her silouette as she removed her shirt.

It was all he had to see to call Derek Morgan on his phone and say the only words he needed to, “Hey, we were right. It’s her dad.”

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) ENDS***

One week and one day later, London works at the BAU, and she loves her job and couldn’t think of a time she genuinely disliked it.

That particular Thursday, however, doing anything else was more appealing to London than going to work.

Maybe it was the sinking feeling that someone had figured out her secret with all the questions they had been asking for a week. Maybe it was the day after feeling she had grown used to when she missed curfew for the second week in a row. Maybe it was just because she forgot her lunch money and was even more tired than Wednesday.

She followed her regular routine through the hallways and elevator to the BAU office floor where the desks of the agents were empty, something that wasn’t uncommon when they were out of town on missions and JJ would have Penelope give her tasks or email her a list.

The uncommon part about the desks being empty was that Doctor Reid was standing next to her desk.

She could tell something was wrong. It was established early that Spencer had the worst poker face, and she had gotten significantly better at profiling since the internship had started.

She was determined to find out what was happening. Did something happen to her siblings? Did something happen to her? Was she being fired?

“What’s up, Spence? Why the long face?”

First, he nodded at her desk and then to the conference room, then he spoke to her, “why don’t you set your stuff down and come join the team in the conference room. We have a case we’d like you to see.”

“A case?” She had been allowed to sit in on several briefings, even help JJ give the briefings, and she often helped Penelope when she was incharge of her interning, but they never waited for her so that she could see.

Nodding, Spencer walked next to the girl around the bullpen and up the staircase. “How was school? Did that boy ask you out yet? Did you know that Morgan had Garcia dig into him for you?”

Laughing she shook her head, “You guys are ridiculous.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere when she walked into the conference room. The entire team was sitting there, and it seemed they were waiting for her and Spencer. “What’s going on? Am I getting fired because I swear Morgan was the one who broke the mug on Tuesday.”

“Hey!” Morgan exclaimed as the girl shrugged at him. What she was saying wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to get fired over dropping a mug because a boy texted her.

Hotch smiled softly at her before calming her, “no, you’re not getting fired, London. Reid, can you close the door?”

“Okay, cool. What’s this about then?”

It got quiet again as the tension in the room was insufferable.

Looking around the room, London watched as every member of the team avoided her eye contact. “What’s going on? I’m not a fan of the whole-everyone-knows-something-London-doesn’t thing.”

Emily looked up to meet her eyes before speaking in a calm and comforting manner, “London, we know what’s happening at home.”

What’s happening at home. Which part? It might not be as bad as London was thinking. Maybe they don’t know about Tuesdays, they only know about Bruce’s drinking problem.

“What? What do you mean, what’s going on at home?” The change in London’s voice was palpable. It was strained, like she was about to cry if it was what she thought it was, which was absolutely true.

JJ cleared her throat softly, “we know what your dad does to you on Tuesdays. And every night you miss curfew.”

London was glad she didn’t move her head to make eye contact with JJ, she kept her eyes unmoving, staring straight in front of her. Her jaw was clenched, her breathing was heavy but steady, and her fingers clenched in and out of fists.

After a few beats of silence, Derek spoke to her, “Lon, it’s okay. We just want to help you.”

London blinked before looking up and diluting her face to a neutral position before asking, “Alright. Are we done here?”

The team wasn’t sure what was worse, how natural ignoring trauma was to a seventeen year old, or the fact she was so calmly numb to the fact that there were tears rapidly falling down her face without notice from her.

Spencer then did one of the most unexpected things that he could have done, he walked up to the girl and pulled her into his arms. It was then the dam broke and London started sobbing uncontrollably, moving to clutch the man in a hug.

“It’s okay, London. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

concepts for a part 2/series

#heartbeat #spencer reid owns me #intern #bau #criminal minds #fanfiction #angst #spencer reid #original character #writing #masterlist #fluff #london #london the bau intern

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alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice · 4 years

Text

The Star King’s Labyrinth Part 1

part 2, part 3

As promised, here is part one of my Dragon Prince/Labyrinth mashup fic. Aaravos is in the role of the lovely Goblin Elf king, and my OC Lyra is the lucky poor unfortunate human to be whisked away. The plot of this fic will largely mirror that of the original Labyrinth, but I went ahead and changed a bunch of things. For one, I spent longer on exposition than the movie did. (In which we will see professors Viren and Opeli - which made me wonder if people in The Dragon Prince have last names?)

Rated T on AO3 because cursing.

Tagging: @psijics and @king-bito (since you were the first I mentioned this idea to I figured you’d want to see I did the thing)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future parts!

~~~

Lyra was already stressed after her physics class earlier that day. She knew Professor Viren strict, but she had no idea it was this bad.

“I have made myself clear in the past, no late work is accepted in my class,” the physics professor said, not even looking up from the work on his desk.

“I’m not asking for credit; I’ll accept the zero. I just want to be able to do the online assignment to make sure I learn the material,” Lyra explained. She needed to master her understanding of gyroscopes to move on to future material, but the online problems were closed the moment the due date hit, and she could not even check her answers. “Please, I was sick. There was only so much schoolwork I could do before the cold medicine knocked me out.”

Professor Viren shot her a withering look from overtop his glasses. “Then perhaps you should have worked on this material earlier so getting sick wouldn’t have been a problem. If you want to succeed, you have to prepare in advance in case of these things.”

Lyra gritted her teeth, wanting to say something like “Since it’s clearly been a while since your student days, maybe you’ve forgotten how hard it is to keep your head above water in the day to day work.” Or maybe even something like, “I know they had only just accepted the heliocentric model when you were in school, but we modern day students have a lot more to cover, so some fucking basic empathy would be appreciated you pretentious asshole.” She held her tongue, only muttering to herself once out of his office, “it’s just not fair.”

At least she had multivariable calc afterwards. It was always entertaining if they went over something with applications in physics, because then they would witness one of Professor Opeli’s legendary anti-physicist rants. “You do not need to understand the underlying concepts. In fact, you’re probably better off not trying to. You just have to do the math and you’ll sail right through the classes. Don’t even bother with physics professors, they’re virtually useless.” she said once. A student said that Professor Viren would probably be offended to hear that.

Professor Opeli simply gestured to her stony expression. “Does this look like the face of a woman who cares what he thinks?”

Any good feelings Lyra had towards Professor Opeli were immediately dissipated once she decided to assign extra work for the fall break. It’s so unfair! Do these people not understand the concept of a break? Lyra wondered.

The answer, of course, is “yes,” but college professors do not see days off from school as breaks, but more as lost time that must be made up.

Lyra, a fool that did not yet know that expectation is the root of all heartache, had set her hopes on a relaxing trip home for the four-day weekend. She wanted to go to the pumpkin patch and catch up on some reading while drinking hot apple cider. At the rate she was getting homework assigned, it appeared that she would be lucky to get the cider as a comforting treat while she worked.

At least her parents would help her with laundry and meals… she hoped.

But, as we have already established, Lyra was one to set her hopes too high. Her mother had forgotten that her daughter was coming home that weekend and had booked a gig that would require her and Lyra’s father to travel out of town for the weekend. “At least the dog doesn’t have to go in the kennel now,” Lyra’s mother said over the phone.

“Yeah, so on top of all the stress I’m under, I can also spend the weekend picking up dog shit,” is what Lyra wanted to say. Out loud, she said, “yeah it’ll be nice to cuddle with him this weekend.” Which, she supposed, was true. At least she had a furry companion to help ease her stress levels.

After a two-hour drive Thursday night, Lyra decided she could afford the rest of the evening to relax in the empty house. After taking Orpheus the labradoodle out to do his business, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate and curled up with a fantasy romance novel. It was extremely cliché and an easy read – by no means a great literary work – just how Lyra liked it.

It had just enough spooky elements in it to feel suited to the season too, a gothic vampire romance. The heroine rescued by a creature of the night and taken back to his castle (never mind that there were not castles just laying around in colonial United States, where the tale takes place).

Still, Lyra could not completely keep her mind on the story for her stress. She was already considering what online resources she would have to practice with since Professor Viren had such a stick up his ass that he couldn’t even leave the practice problems open to the students. Khan Academy maybe? It was invaluable in her high school days. Did they have college level coursework on there? How would her grades survive if she couldn’t learn this?

Lyra sighed, trying to turn her attention back to the fantasy world in hand. This was supposed to be her one chance to relax and she was not about to waste it. She reached for her mug only to discover the greatest of all tragedies: her hot cocoa had gone cold, and the marshmallows melted into a sticky inconvenience around the rim. Setting the mug back on the coaster, Lyra groaned. Orpheus, awoken from his nap on the floor by the noise, trotted over to Lyra, apparently deciding he needed belly rubs.

Lyra obliged him, making room for him to curl up next to her on the couch. Of course, despite his size, Orpheus was under the impression he was a lap dog, and there had to be careful maneuvering for Lyra to get some semblance of comfort once he decided she was his new bed.

Cuddling her dog had always been comforting in the past, but it was not long before Lyra wondered about her future, and she could fell the loneliness creeping in sitting in the otherwise uninhabited house. She couldn’t blame school stress for her inability to enjoy that moment, now could she? Why could she not enjoy what moments of rest she had? How was that fair?

Lyra could not deny that her grades were falling apart, and she wasn’t even sure that astrophysics was what she should pursue, but if she was not an academic, what was she? What else did she have going for her in this world after devoting her life since elementary school to good grades and academic success? Despite being a junior, she lacked any social connections that lasted more than a few months. Friendships were hard. She could never really figure out where she stood with people, always being as accommodating and friendly as possible to be safe. After the fact she always worried she came across as clingy, which would set the whole cycle of isolation over again.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just run away from all of it?” Lyra mused aloud as she rubbed Orpheus’s ears. He did not respond, since he was a dog, and this isn’t the kind of story where animals start talking out of nowhere. “I guess that’s what I was hoping to accomplish by coming home this weekend, but my problems followed me here.” She inspected the art on the cover of the cheap paperback. “I want a castle. No, not a castle, I just want to run away somewhere that my problems don’t follow me. Where hot cocoa doesn’t get cold and gross and I don’t have to deal with stuck up professors and unreasonable deadlines.”

Lyra leaned back on the sofa, throwing her head back to look to the ceiling. She was not often one to talk to herself aloud, but perhaps it was the need to fill the empty space that made her voice her lamentations. Maybe some part of her, an instinctual part left over from the days when humans had to evade large predators, knew she was not really alone, that someone was listening in.

“I just wish I could leave this world altogether,” Lyra shouted to the (seemingly) empty room.

All the lights in the house flickered for a moment, then went dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps and moon outside. “It is my pleasure to grant your wish, Lyra,” replied a voice from the shadows.

Lyra leapt off the couch in alarm, spinning around to see where the intruder was. From what she could see, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Orpheus confirmed for her that something was wrong, raising his hackles and growling softly. Lyra grabbed a nearby decorative candlestick as an improvised weapon for self-defense. “Who’s there?”

There was no answer in any sort of verbal language, but Lyra felt an instinctual pull towards the entryway of the house. She crept along cautiously, Orpheus keeping close by her. She gave him a soft pat on his head as thanks for his loyalty.

In the entryway, across from the coat closet, was a small end table where keys and other assorted odds-and-ends were kept, with a mirror above it to check one’s appearance before leaving. As Lyra approached, she saw a figure in the mirror alongside her own reflection that became clearer bit by bit, as if emerging from fog.

She knew she had to be going insane at that point. The first thing she noticed about the figure in the mirror was that he was purple with silver freckles across his skin. Then his horns, curving against a head of silver-white hair, became clear through the mist, and Lyra wondered if she was dealing with some sort of demon. The sclera of his eyes was black, and his irises were golden and almost glowed in the dim light. Those eyes carried, like the rest of the figure, a frightening sort of beauty, like lightning that strikes a little too close for comfort.

In the mirror, the strange figure stood next to Lyra wrapped in a black cloak with gold trim. Whatever he was… he certainly was not human. Against perhaps her better judgment, Lyra reached out to touch the glass of the mirror in disbelief of what she was seeing. The figure glanced down to where Lyra’s hand met her reflection and smirked.

The person in the mirror reached forward, and Lyra saw a sparkling violet hand reach out to touch hers on her side of the mirror. She screamed and whirled around, swinging the candlestick. The stranger caught her by her wrist, seeming only mildly annoyed at most.

“Is that any way to greet the one that just granted your heart’s desire?” the stranger asks, with a deep baritone voice like honey.

“Granted… what?” Lyra sputtered, taking a moment to find her voice, and managing to wrench back her wrist from his grip in the process. Lyra realized that at some point in her shock, Orpheus had disappeared. So much for a loyal companion. She took a cautious step back from the very strange man in her house, finally settling on one question to start: “Who the fuck are you?”

The man took Lyra’s hand, bowing and placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart at the gallant gesture. “I am Aaravos, king of this realm. You wished to leave your world, so I brought you here.” He stood, snapping his fingers, and the walls dissipated like mist, leaving the two of them standing in a twilit forest.

Lyra looked around, taking in the ethereal surroundings: the lights like tiny multicolored stars hanging in the branches, and the floating bits of stardust around them. They stood on a hillside, and in the distance, atop another hill, a gleaming castle with impossibly tall and spiraling spires reached into the night sky. Surrounding it in the valley below was a labyrinth so large and twisted it could rival Greek myth.

“And… where is here?”

Aaravos leaned against a nearby tree that bended and curved upon his approach to something more comfortable to rest against. “This was once a realm that served as a prison, but those that sent me here underestimated my power and my ability to mold this world into something more suitable. These days, I find I prefer my new home to the one that banished me. You would be advised to stay close to me, and I can help you avoid the areas that still serve as places of torment.”

“Torment??” Lyra laughed, a tense and nervous sound that grated even on her own ears. “This is just a weird dream. I fell asleep on the couch and I will wake up any minute now… right? Right? I just… I want to go home.”

Aaravos’s face scrunched up in confusion, and a darkness took hold of his gaze as he stalked toward her. “Not five minutes ago, you wished to leave your home. I have graciously granted your wish, and now you would rudely refuse my gift to you?”

Lyra gulped, debating whether she should appease this being with an apology, or whether she should try to reason with him and defend her right to go home. When looking up into the face of this man that radiated dangerous power, Lyra’s sense of self-preservation demanded she choose the former. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice quiet and shaky, “I did not mean to offend.”

Aaravos smiled, reaching up to brush his fingers along Lyra’s cheek. The sweet caress made her shiver, though she was not sure if it was from fear or… something else. “Nothing in this world or any other, dear Lyra, is truly free. I will admit I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here.”

Lyra sucked in a deep breath, staring up at Aaravos with as much courage as she could muster. “And what was that, exactly?”

Aaravos grinned. “I am terribly bored, and you little humans are so interesting.” He took a lock of Lyra’s dark hair that had fallen from her bun and twirled it around a finger. “I could get a lifetime’s worth of entertainment just watching how you react to magic that is so commonplace for me. Do you really wish to go back to your dull human world with your deadlines and lonely nights? Reading books about magical adventures instead of having your own?”

Lyra hesitated, tempted by the offer... but it all sounded too good to be true. There had to be another catch, and she knew she could not trust this Aaravos to be transparent. Besides, as frustrating as it was at times, she loved her studies. She loved her family and her dog and she could not give that up forever. “Please, let me go back. I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to leave. I was just frustrated. Let me go, please.”

Aaravos sighed melodramatically. “Oh, if you insist… I suppose I shall have to amuse myself some other way.”

Lyra almost laughed in relief. She began to say her thanks, but Aaravos cut her off with a look that carried a sadistic glee to it. “Let’s play a game, then,” he said, his tone sharp and without any of the softness it carried moment before. With a wave of his hand, a clock floated above his palm. “I will give you thirteen hours. If, in that time, you can make it through that labyrinth to my castle, I will send you home. If not, you will stay here forever.” With a snap of his fingers, the second hand on the clock began ticking.

“Wait!” Lyra cried, “I never agreed to that! What kind of deal is that?”

Aaravos cocked a snowy white eyebrow. “You seem to be under the impression, little star, that I was asking your permission. No. I have simply informed you of your current predicament. If you wish to return home so badly, I suggest you get moving. After all,” he gestured to the floating clock with a nod of his head, “the clock is ticking.”

In a flash of blinding white, Aaravos disappeared, and Lyra was no longer on the hilltop, but staring at an elegantly carved stone archway possibly thirty feet tall. She stomped her foot and shook her fist at the sky. “YOU BASTARD,” she screamed, “That’s not fair!”

Left with no other option, Lyra stepped through the archway into the labyrinth.

A/N: Opeli’s disdain towards physics professors is based off an actual calc professor I had. The physics and calc professors I had that semester talked shit about each other and their departments. It was great.

Lyra is a college student because an immortal elf hitting on a 21-year-old is less creepy than one hitting on a 16-year-old. In her original universe, Lyra’s parents were bards, so I decided to leave them as vague performers/musicians in the modern world.

#Labyrinth #aaravos fanfic #tdp aaravos #alls fair creations #oc lyra

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

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(Your) Light In The Dark (Ch. 3)

Despite Scott's rejection of Quill's offer, he was remarkably easy to direct to the senior's car. It wasn't like Quill forced him into his car, Scott got in of his own accord, but he wanted to thank the younger teen somehow. He could've easily flipped him the bird and left him on his own with his math, so Quill could at least make his errands easier right? Scott kept mumbling that it was all unnecessary but he didn't bolt the second they arrived at the grocery store. He only sighed and grabbed a cart while the older teen trailed behind him and looked around for snacks...and periodically at a jean covered ass. Scott really had a great one. Quill just wanted to grab it--

What the hell is wrong with me? I don't even know him and even if I tried that, he would jump out of his skin and run.

Damn, he had his work cut out for him. Granted, this all started because Quill wanted to know who he was, but the more he learned about Scott, the more he liked. He was skittish. Almost to a fault. His main concern was getting those golden eyes to fill with happiness and excitement instead of misery and loneliness though. He clearly needed a friend if he didn't have one already, and even then a second one wouldn't hurt him.

"You finished?" Quill asks when he catches the younger staring at the contents of his cart.

Scott snaps out of whatever daze he had been in and looks at Quill. "Oh...uh, yeah."

They make their way to the front and Quill waits patiently as Scott pays for his groceries before they carry the bags to the bar and throw them in the back. As he drove Scott home (and the younger gave him directions), he couldn't help but notice that the sophomore would side eye him every few seconds. Not entirely because he was nervous, no...he looked curious too. As much as Quill wanted to ask Scott what was on his mind, he knew it would just make the younger clam up and it would be two steps back from what he wanted to happen.

When he finally pulled into the driveway at Scott's house, he unbuckled his seatbelt with every intention to help carry the groceries inside, but Scott stopped him. "I can manage from here. Thanks."

"You sure?" Quill asks.

There were quite a few bags, but the younger nodded and scrambled out of the car and grabbed every single bag including his backpack and walked towards his door. He did mumble a quick thanks as he passed the passenger door and Quill so badly wanted to get out of the car and help Scott with his burden, even if it was just for a second. If a strong wind blew through, there was a strong possibility that it would knock Scott over with how many bags he was carrying. It would probably knock him over regardless but that was besides the point. Quill watched Scott drop the bags long enough to unlock his door and only when he's sure the younger is safely inside with his things does he restart the car. Before he pulled away though, he took one last look at the house and suddenly had the feeling that that was all it was. A house. Some houses that he went to radiated a homely vibe, but this one...it didn't.

Maybe it was because Scott's parents were out of town, or maybe his family wasn't close. Either way, Quill was a little more appreciative of what he had home and family wise. If his gut was right, the air of mystery around Scott just got denser and it was driving him crazy. Just when he managed to carefully pick off a tiny bit of information about the younger teen, he turned around and found himself facing a landslide.

What did he actually know? His name was Scott (last name still unknown), Scott was skittish as all hell but his eyes betrayed how he really felt, he was good at math, small enough to make Quill want to teddy bear him, had the prettiest eyes, and had a nice ass.

That was a sad amount of knowledge, and here Quill was already drooling over him.

Quill grumbles to himself as he drives home, and when he parks in front of his house and walks in, Tim looks over at him from the couch in the living room. "You're home late."

"Oh...yeah. I'm getting some help with math after school. From the same guy I ran into on Friday."

His grandfather looks up at him in surprise. "He didn't run?"

"I'm sure he wanted to. Our teacher kind of dropped the responsibility on him but he stuck around. Well...actually...he did run but not while he was helping me."

"Do you still not know his name?"

"I do! It's Scott." Quill answers quickly with a puff of his cheeks.

Quill explained what was going to happen after school until either Scott got tired of helping him or whenever the senior finally understood math (Scott giving up on him was more likely). He would have practice, study in the school library for an hour with Scott, and then come home after maybe taking Scott home. Football season was almost over so he would come home sooner when it was, assuming Scott didn't throw in the towel with him. Quill hoped that didn't happen because it would give him more time to delve into the mystery that was Scott... whatever the hell his last name was. That should probably be the next piece of information Quill finds out.

=================

The next couple of days more or less went by the same, including his time with Scott, and Quill always took him home. He did find out that Scott's last name was Lang but that wasn't exactly information freely given. Quill just happened to see it on some of his homework. Thursday was completely different though. Wednesday night, his grandfather asked him to skip his study hour so they could help a family friend with...something. Quill admittedly zoned out once Tim said he needed him home immediately after football practice. Even if Scott hardly talked to him, Quill enjoyed spending time with him because it was a nice change from his friends. They were rowdy and always trying for his attention, but with Scott, he was quiet and kept to himself.

Quill just needed a chance to tell Scott he wouldn't be coming to the library today. His best chance would be lunch, and he waited for the chance to go talk to Scott. He periodically looked across the cafeteria, and one time he even caught Scott looking in his direction. His first instinct was to smile at the younger teen, and he had to hold back a laugh when Scott's eyes widened and he looked away with a sputter and pink in his cheeks. As the senior internally gushed over the adorable blush that adorned Scott's cheek, he noticed another student offer the younger teen a juice box.

So he likes juice.

The senior decided now was as good a time as any to go talk to Scott, but the second he stood up and moved to make his way over to the teen, he was intercepted by Rachel. She cozied right up to him with her hands rubbing up his arms, and perfume that Quill was sure replaced actual oxygen. He felt like he was choking on it.

"So Peter…" She purrs. "We were thinking of going to the mall this weekend if you want to come with us."

Quill looks at her hand when it stops on his bicep and he reaches up to gently remove it and push her away. Rachel really had no sense of personal space or what it meant when people said to lightly spritz perfume. He really was having some difficulty getting proper air with the cheerleader that close to him. Her proposition wasn't appealing either.

"I'll think about it." Quill says as he attempts to hide a grimace.

He knew how to deal with Rachel. She wasn't one to take no for an answer, so the closest thing he could say was what he had answered her with. She pouted before she left with a couple of her fellow cheerleaders, and that left Quill to breathe a sigh of relief...without the pollution of artificial fragrance. Sure, some guys were also guilty of basically showering themselves in men's body spray, but girls thought they were innocent of doing anything of the like.

They were not.

By the time Quill started toward Scott again, the lunch bell had rung and the senior released a defeated sigh. He turned back to clean up his mess and toss his garbage, and promised himself that he would go find Scott immediately after school and before practice. He wouldn't leave Scott to sit in the library and wait, and the thought alone had the senior go through the second half of the day with his knee bouncing anxiously. The second his last class was let out, Quill left the classroom and searched the halls for Scott's locker. He thanked himself (very briefly) for running into Scott that first day so he knew where the younger's locker was located. There was also the plus that he got to meet Scott at all.

Quill finds Scott already at his locker and he leans against the lockers on the other side of the open door to wait for Scott to finish getting whatever he needs. It gave the older teen the opportunity to admire his ass anyway.

When Scott closes his locker, Quill straightens and holds back a smirk when the younger visibly jumps at his sudden presence.

"Hey." He greets casually and Scott looks up at him.

"...hi." He mutters.

"So...I can't make it to the library today. I've got a lot of things to get done after practice and it has to be done today--"

"It's fine." Scott interrupts. "We have the same homework and it's mostly review stuff so you shouldn't need my help anyway. One day won't hurt you."

"Okay. Good. It's just today. I'll see you tomorrow?" Quill asks and then pats Scott's shoulder as he moves past him once the younger boy nods.

He hated leaving Scott to walk in the rain, but he didn't even have the time to drive him home. Thankfully, for him, the coach would give them an easy practice inside and maybe even cut it short with this downpour.

=========

The next day at lunch, Quill looked around the cafeteria but he didn't see Scott at all. His friend was at their usual table, but the younger was nowhere to be seen. Said friend approached Quill after school with a concerned expression.

"Quill?"

Up close like this, the senior recognized Scott's friend. "Stephen, right?"

Stephen nods. "I just wanted to let you know that Scott won't be tutoring you today. He wasn't at school today. I'm going to go check on him."

"I can give you a ride. Practice is cancelled and I wouldn't mind checking in on him too." Quill offers.

"Do you mind if we pick up some soup? I have a feeling he might have gotten sick." Stephen sighs.

The senior winces. "I couldn't drive him home yesterday...but yeah. Let's go."

Stephen nods again and follows Quill to the doors of the school, and from there they run straight to his car and get in. They did the same thing at the grocery store when they picked up some soup and medicine, and when they got to Scott's house, they were lucky enough to catch a break in the storm. It wouldn't last long so Quill took the initiative to knock on the door. The two waited for about a minute before knocking again, and Scott finally opened the door a few seconds later. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his nose was red with obvious congestion, and his eyes gave away how miserable he felt.

Scott managed to look adorable even sick and Quill felt himself falling harder for the sophomore. He had to hold himself back from wrapping Scott up in a bigger blanket and curling around him protectively when he finally let them inside.

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charity-angel · 5 years

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At the risk of tempting the universe/PTB to throw anything more at me, a brief summary of my weekend (with added background info that I bought my first house 2 months ago):

Saturday morning, arse o’clock: text from my mother saying she is sending my dad over and are there any jobs that need doing?

Yes, quite a few. Chief of which is I want to trace whatever fault means that half1 the spotlights in my kitchen aren’t working.2

Slightly later Saturday, more reasonable time: Dad arrives. Decides that since weather is nice, he's going to repair my back gate. Fair enough - it wasn't on my list, but it will mean I can actually open it whenever I need to rather than wrestling with it.

While helping him: Spot something that annoys me, and I have purchased the means to fix but not got around to actually doing it. The security light comes on no matter what time of day it is. It is currently broad daylight. Decide to amend this. Venture into basement, turn electricity off. Arm self with screwdrivers. Prepare to install switch rather than popping fuse out of wall all the time3.

Bit of swearing later: Fuse panel is off wall, but there is something going on outside. Venture out to find a guy out cold in the street running behind the terrace, with two teenage girls speaking to the 999 operator. As I kneel beside him to try and assess, he starts to come round - enough to say he doesn't want an ambulance. I try to get girls to not relay this to the operator, but they do and it's cancelled. He is CLEARLY still out of it. They hang up, go on their way, and he promptly passes out again.

Remind self of how to put someone into the recovery position. Lament that last time I did this it was a conscious, skinny PGCE student in her early twenties, and this is a grown-ass man who is not surreptitiously helping with the rolling over. I also can't get his hand under his head, so I hold his head up myself instead, while my dad finally decides I've been a while and rings 999 back4.

Takes them a while to get there. I think the call timer is over 20 mins. My back is in spasms, my left leg is going numb and pins & needles-y. The guy has vomited three times (thank fuck I rolled him). Paramedics manage to bring him round a bit - enough to get him to confess he's on methodone.

Ow, fucking ow: Have to go back to doing the electrical work, since the power is off and my dad now needs to charge the drill. Set about attaching the cables to the right bits. Discover that the cabling is too short to reach one of the terminals on the new switch. Fuck. Re-install fuse plate. Turn power back on. Thank whoever is listening that I don't seem to have screwed anything up.

Saturday, 2:45: Lunch. I have frozen bread, and a shit-load of eggs. Scrambled eggs on toast it is.

Maybe 3:15?: Dad sets about re-seating curtain pole in the spare room, with decent rawlplugs so that it will take the weight of the curtain my mum is making for it.

Not long later: That's done with minimal fuss5. Dad muses that could do with putting the rail back on the stairs6.

Couple of minutes later: Persuade him that could actually do with lifting the floor since I'd quite like to be able to see in the kitchen after nightfall, whereas the handrail is a minor inconvenience. We begin.

At this point, it is worth noting that I had tried this myself on Thursday evening only to discover the floor appears to be chipboard rather than floorboards. Also it is worth noting that the carpet was laid and then the skirting boards put down over it.

Half an hour later?: Free enough of the carpet to realise that the bed needs to be moved. And by moved, I mean effectively dismantled.

Another hour?: Bed semi-dismantled and on its side7, room totally rearranged. More skirting boards unscrewed, silicon sealant peeled from the walls, skirtings removed8, carpet screws removed, carpet rolled up as much as possible. We manage to prise one of the bits of chipboard up, only to realise that: a) the original floorboards are still mostly there underneath (although mostly not under this particular bit), and b) the majority of the fucking things have not only been screwed down over the floorboards, but also GLUED. I shit you not. Also that some of the boards extend underneath the plasterboard9 wall

We decide this is a bigger job than us and have to at least put the flooring back down and move things we had moved from there into my room back so I can at least get into bed. We decide not to do anything else as it will only need moving again.

Around 6pm: My poor dad heads home. I discover I have a stray text from my mum about half an hour earlier asking if he's still with me.

Not long later: Run bath. Pour self bowl of tesco's coco pops in lieu of meal I haven't got the spoons to cook.10

Ominous message from mother: She is coming over tomorrow to hang the curtain, and set the spare room right again.

Sunday, about 9am: Ow. Owowowowow. Break out the painkillers. Fuck. Browse AO3 for Rose/Ten fics since I have just binged their season and I have feels, okay?

11:30: Text from mother: she is heading over around 1: do I want anything picking up at the temperance bar since she is going?11

Around 12: Decide should get dressed. Painkillers doing their job. Get clean jeans since she is dragging me out for curtain hoops. I might not drive, but I at least know where I'm going.12

12:15: spot a big, ominous wet patch above my bedroom door that is just about to start dripping. FUCK!

Shove water cup under the impending drip, grab towel and slightly larger container, replace cup. Grab bigger container and head for loft access hatch.

Realise loft access is behind all this shit we moved around in the spare room yesterday. Double fuck. Set about moving it elsewhere so I can get in.

12:30:Ring Dad and ask if he can bring over his big set of stepladders as I suspect I probably could get myself into the attic space13, but would break my neck coming back down. Also I need a torch that is not my phone. He laments that Mum has taken the big car. I call her instead, get her to head home and stock up on essentials (ladders, torch, Dad). I decide to change into yesterday's scruffy jeans since this isn't likely to be a clean job.

About 1-1:15: They arrive, and my dad manoeuvres himself into the attic. This is impressive and just a lot of a dangerous move or two involved. It takes a second person (read: me), which means I have no chance of getting up there myself.

Issue is with the chimney stack and can't actually get a bucket under it. But by the light of my phone14 he can see multiple other issues. Although he does move a slate back into place so I can't see daylight between it and its next-door neighbour. Bless him.

2:15: decide to get some lunch and the curtain hoops. Head into town. Can't park15 Mum decides she isn't hungry, drops us at Costa (it's open, at least) and goes to get the hoops herself.

3-ish: Get back. Sort spare room so it is habitable. Because there is still a drip from my bedroom doorframe, so guess where I'm suddenly sleeping tonight. Hang curtain16.

4-ish: Decide to actually put the handrail back, so we can feel we've at least achieved something useful. This turns out to be a bigger job than anticipated because the fucking plaster keeps falling apart and the rawlplugs won't hold properly. And the ones that will, we don't have screws the right size for. I mean...

5:30-ish: Rail is up. They leave. I run bath as everything is ouch.

7-ish: Can no longer ignore fact that I can hear dripping in the bathroom. Get out while bath is still full to try and work out where the fuck it is coming from. Take side panel off bath17. Not obvious. The outlet pipe has drippy bits all along it. Can't get a container under it. Yay.

Shove microfibre cloth under just to try and contain dripping. Suspect the joint in the pipe where new plumbing has been connected to older is the issue, but seems to be from both bloody ends of the joint piece.

7:45-ish: Drain bath, turn shower on so can wash hair. Little later than anticipated - won't dry properly now18.

tl;dr: I hate my house and everything about it.

1. The half that are on the useful side of the kitchen. You know, where the sink and hob are. The ones that help me do things like cook and wash up after dark.

2. Spotlights embedded into ceilings are clearly one of Crowley's inventions.

3. I am not a qualified electrician, but I have studied electronics at school, been taught on the side by my engineer dad, and I know my limits. Do not do this yourself if you aren't absolutely sure of what you're looking at.

4. Can't do it myself as my battery is dead and, guess what - I've turned the electricity off so I can't charge it. And my landline is cordless, so that needs power too.

5. other than Dad not realising that my ceilings are a little lower than his and going 1 step too high on the ladder. Muppet.

6. I removed this about 2 days after I moved in because of the 4 brackets supposedly securing it to the wall, only 2 actually were. I was more liable to break my neck using it than not. It didn't take me long to realise that while removing it was a 1 woman job, putting it back required more hands. 4 more, as it transpires.

7. Dad manages to hit his head on one of the protruding legs of the bed. I swear...

8. Honestly. They were screwed to the wall and then silicon sealed along the top (and joining edges). The carpet was screwed to the floor under the boards.

9. Drywall, for anyone of an American disposition.

10. Ignore suspicious dripping sound. This turns out to be something of a mistake.

11. Fucking yes, I am almost out of all my cordials. Curse not living near it any more

12. Mostly. One-way systems are a touch tricky when you don't have to obey them. As are bus-only routes.

13. On later reflection, this is incredibly doubtful since I lack the upper body strength to haul myself several feet straight up.

14. Because they brought a curtain and cushions as well as the big stepladder, but not a torch.

15. Also not something I have to think about often.

16. Discover Mum and I have been talking cross-purposes as to which side of the window it is going on. Fortunately this is not a massive issue.

17. Inventory of the under-bath: 2 bags grout, 1 tub of paint, 1 jigsaw piece, 1 part of an old loo roll holder, about 50cm of 1cm diameter dowel, 1 electrical cable that is quite possibly live given that an attempt has been made to insulate it inside a plastic bag. What is not there is the wooden frame that should support the sides of the plastic bath.

18. There are many advantages to the care and maintenance of curly hair. Not being able to blow-dry it is NOT one of them. Not having to, otoh, is.

#random shit #the rl of charity

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nicolewrites · 5 years

Text

someone to carry me home

Stranger Things 3. What a ride. So here's to hijacked motivation and my eternal sadness at how my favourite ST couple were treated this season.

Rating: T Genre: Friendship and Romance Characters: [Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair], Dustin, Eleven, Mike, Will Words: 7,342

"Max Mayfield likes a very specific list of things: rockstars, skateboards, old fashioned arcades, California, and sarcasm. Notably, people do not rank high on her list of positive things. Neither does Indiana and yet here she is." Lucas and Max and a memorable first year.

AO3 | FFN

Max Mayfield likes a very specific list of things: rockstars, skateboards, old fashioned arcades, California, and sarcasm. Notably, people do not rank high on her list of positive things. Neither does Indiana and yet here she is.

Purdue is a good school. Purdue is, really, a great school, and she should be pleased to be here, but as she drags her suitcase behind her into the elevator, all she can think of is the acceptance letter to UCLA that she had pinned above her desk. Max sighs and jams the button for the ninth floor.

UCLA would have been great, but Max couldn’t stay in California. She had had to leave the city, leave the state, and get as far away as possible to somewhere that her mother and her stepfather and Billy would never even consider visiting. So she picked Purdue and now she is here in Indiana for god knows why.

Thankfully her room isn’t too far from the elevator, and she manages to lug all her stuff in after only two trips. There is a little cloud with her name scribbled in it on her door and she quickly rips it down. She glances up and down the hallway, but no one seems to be out of their room, so she slips into her room and closes the door.

She doesn’t have a roommate–thank god–and her dorm room is small and pretty old, but it’s better than the pictures she had seen. She drops her suitcase to the ground with a heavy thud and dumps her backpack on the bare mattress of the bed. She sits on the mattress and exhales slowly.

It took entirely too long for her eighteenth birthday to come so that her mother was comfortable with letting her leave, but she was out. She was away from her stepdad and away from Billy and she, if it could be helped, was never going back. She had moved to Indiana for school so she figured she would throw herself into school for four years, get a job, and move out of Indiana, even further away from California.

There is a loud thud from the room to her right which is followed by a loud, feminine giggle. Max flops back on her bed and sighs. She’s pretty sure the people who room on that side of her are boys, so that means at least one of them probably has a girlfriend. The walls in dorms are notoriously thin and now she can look forward to sex noises on top of everything else.

This is why Max doesn’t like people.

It’s a week and a half into classes before Max finally meets one of her neighbours. Surprisingly, the room has been pretty quiet, other than the occasional chatter, but she has heard a girl’s voice here and there. She’s just stepping into the elevator to head back to her room after a particularly exhausting chemistry lecture when a guy darts forward and holds the elevator door open so he can slip inside. He smiles at her and reaches to press a button, but freezes when he sees that she’s already pushed the one for the ninth floor.

“You’re on nine, too?” he asks.

She glances at him and takes in his appearance. He’s dark-skinned with sharp eyes and a whip-crack smile and Max almost lets herself think that he’s cute before she nods to answer his question.

He shuffles his feet and his smile wavers with his nerves for a second. “Cool, what room are you?”

“982,” she answers because she might as well humour him, if at least for the elevator ride.

His brow rises. “I’m in 984, so we must be right next to each other.”

Max immediately quashes any thoughts of his good looks because if this is her neighbour, it’s definitely his girlfriend that she’s heard through the wall. “Yeah,” she replies idly. She glances at the elevator display as the number six shifts into a seven. Still two floors to go.

“I don’t think I ever saw your nameplate,” he continues and Max exhales because she really just wants this stupid cute neighbour to shut up. “What’s your name?”

“Max,” she replies shortly. She doesn’t bother asking for his name, because then she has a name to match a face, which is something she really doesn’t want.

Of course, because he’s that type of guy, he gives one anyways. “I’m Lucas. Engineering student,” he says. He holds out a hand and Max knows that it would be the ultimate asshole move not to shake it, so she does.

“Chemistry,” she offers in return.

Lucas grins. “Wicked, chem’s a tough one.”

Max shrugs. “As long as I’m not writing essays.”

“Ha, yeah you’re talking to an engineer there, so I agree.”

His wit makes her crack a smile right as the elevator dings and the doors open onto their floor. Max steps out and Lucas follows her, keeping pace as they walk towards their rooms. Max stops in front of her room and digs in her pocket for her room key. Lucas hovers, a little awkwardly, just to her right in front of his own door.

“My roommate, some friends from high school and I are going out for dinner tonight, if you were interested in joining us at all.”

Max bites her lip. “I would, but I’ve got a lab in two days that I really need to prepare for. Thanks anyways though.”

Lucas shrugs and slides a hand into one of his pockets. “I didn’t think there was any harm in asking.”

Max turns the key in her lock and opens her door. She steals one last look at the cute neighbour. “No, not really.” He gives her a lop-sided smile as she slips inside her room.

She drops her bag to the floor and sighs deeply. She’s here for school, not to get distracted by cute boys, even if they live next door. Besides, he’s attractive enough that the girlfriend next door must be his so it doesn’t matter anyway.

Because, of course, it turns out that Max and her cute neighbour run the same schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They both get back from class or dinner or the library at 7:30 sharp and take the elevator to the ninth floor together.

Max tries really hard not to care, but Lucas is cute and funny and genuinely interesting to talk to. Plus, when she calls him ‘Stalker’ his smile gets a little lopsided and her heart does flips when he calls her ‘Mad Max’, so frankly, they fall into an easy routine of teasing and what might be–though Max isn’t hopeful–flirting.

Whoever arrives in the lobby of the residence building pushes the elevator button first, but they always get on together. Lucas asks her about class and labs and she asks him about Indiana and if there is anything interesting out in the middle of nowhere both at school and where he’s from.

Max doesn’t make many other friends, a few from her classes, but it’s nice to be able to say that she and Lucas are definitely beyond acquaintances now. Plus, he’s still cute, so she can’t really complain. She’s a little confused as to why she and Lucas appear to be meeting up so often when she still hasn’t met his roommate or the girlfriend.

It’s mid-October and the first Midwestern winter chills are blowing in on the day that she meets the girlfriend. Max jerks her jean jacket tightly around her as she scurries into the building lobby, huffing out cold air. It’s a Wednesday, which means no Lucas, so she heads right for the elevators.

There’s another girl waiting for the elevators, her hands behind her back as she rocks onto her toes. Max avoids eye contact as she normally does with all people, but she can’t help but notice that the girl doesn’t look familiar at all, something unusual considering Max recognizes most people who live in the building now. Not to mention that with curly, shoulder-length brown hair and a delicate face, the girl is really, really pretty.

The elevators ding and Max slips inside first, quickly punching the button for her floor. The girl follows, and hesitates, exactly like Lucas had done back in September.

A needle of doubt pricks in Max’s stomach and the selfish part of her brain chants, Don’t be his girlfriend, don’t be his girlfriend.

The girl snaps suddenly, pointing at Max. “Oh! You’re Max! Lucas mentioned you!”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m Max.”

The girl smiled. “Jane Hopper, but everyone just calls me El.” She stuck a hand out and Max awkwardly shook it.

Any hopes she had been harbouring of the pretty girl not being Lucas’s girlfriend shrivel and die. Max forces a smile and adjusts her backpack. She glances at the elevator monitor: four floors left.

“You’re the girlfriend then?”

El laughs. “Wow, I’m already getting that name. I guess I am.”

Max smirks a little. “I’m glad the walls are thicker than the residence reviews said they would be.”

Her quip finally triggers a response in the girl as her cheeks flare red instantly as she giggles nervously. Max waves her off.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she adds as an afterthought.

El smiles. For a blissful moment, there is silence before it is broken again. “Hey, I know Lucas has tried to invite you out with our friends before, but we’re going out tonight again and it would be super cool if you joined us.”

Max blinks in surprise. Lucas inviting her out was one thing because they were neighbours and sort of friends, but his girlfriend doing the same? Max casts her a look, suddenly feeling shy. She isn’t used to having female friends so the eagerness in El’s voice is new.

El smiles brightly again and Max finds herself nodding before she can really think. “Ok, sure,” she replied.

“Cool! Why don’t you drop your stuff and get whatever you need from your room and then just knock on the boys' door when you’re ready?”

The doors slide open on the ninth floor and Max’s time to backpedal evaporates. “Sounds good,” she forces out.

El smiles and the two girls walk side by side to the neighbouring rooms. El pauses to glance at Max’s door before turning and knocking on Lucas’s. “See you shortly!”

Max quickly slips inside her room so she doesn’t have to see Lucas greet his girlfriend. She tosses her school bag onto her dresser and falls face-first onto her bed, groaning. At the very least this event would force her to meet more people, she thinks despondently. She pushes herself up and glances at her mirror.

She’s wearing a vintage t-shirt emblazoned with The Eagles logo paired with ripped black jeans and her trusty jean jacket. It’s a look she is proud of and she sees no reason to change. She grabs her purse and keys, runs her fingers through her curly red hair and slides out the door.

It takes her two full seconds of standing in the hallway to gather the courage to knock, but she finally does, rapping her knuckles against the wood three times.

The door swings open almost immediately and Max comes face to face with a grinning Lucas. He’s wearing a plain blue t-shirt and grey jeans, but he makes it look effortlessly attractive and Max quashes down the internal girliness which was scoping him out.

“Max, hey! El said you were going to join us tonight!” Lucas’s smile is easy-going and familiar and Max relaxes just a little. “Come on in,” he says, opening the door wider.

She steps in and takes in the room. It’s bigger than her room, with two desks, two closets, and two beds. Both sides are covered with various geek memorabilia. As she steps in, her gaze is drawn to El and the boy next to her that she presumes to be Lucas’s roommate.

El and the roommate are sitting on the bed that she presumes to be not-Lucas’s and the guy has an arm slung around El’s shoulders as they chat easily. El’s eyes are bright and happy as she looks up at him. It only takes a second for everything to click in Max’s mind.

El isn’t Lucas’s girlfriend. She is Lucas’s roommate’s girlfriend. The petty, jealous part of her instantly disappears and Max is relieved to suddenly be able to breathe again.

“Max, this is El, as you know, and my roommate, Mike, her boyfriend,” Lucas introduces as he walks up behind her suddenly.

Mike grins at her. He was cute too, but certainly not her type. He’s all lank with a messy mop of dark hair and a light spattering of freckles. “Nice to finally meet you, neighbour. I’ve heard all about you from Lucas, but it’s funny we’ve never met.”

Max laughs, her chest suddenly lighter. “Nice to meet you too, Mike.”

There’s a short, almost awkward pause, before there’s another knock at the door. Lucas spins and heads to open it. Max glances back and sees him embrace whoever is at the door. Lucas steps aside and a guy with the wildest, curliest hair Max has ever seen steps in, grinning broadly.

“You must be Max! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the new guy says. He steps forward and sticks out a hand.

Max shakes it and takes in his appearance. He’s wearing jeans and a rumpled Back to the Future shirt with a green and yellow baseball cap. “Max Mayfield, the, apparently,” she pauses, giving Lucas a sly look, “infamous neighbour.”

Lucas just gives her a smile that makes her stomach flip. The new guy sizes her up.

“I’m Dustin, and I’m definitely the coolest out of any of these guys, so don’t worry about a thing around me.”

Lucas, Mike, and El all laugh at this statement and Max feels a genuine smile lift her lips too. “Good to know,” she replies teasingly. Friends, her brain thinks giddily, I think these people want to actually be my friends.

As it turns out, Dustin is the craziest and everyone in the party loves to argue. After Dustin’s arrival, the group had set out for a retro diner nearby where they met up with Will and Joe. Will was apparently a part of the original friend group from small-town Indiana, while Joe, Will’s boyfriend, is a new addition that attends the high-scale Arts Institution that Will studies at in Lafayette.

They had crammed together into one of those oddly circular booths with El and Mike and Will and Joe smushing together. Max slides in next to El and Lucas follows her in, while Dustin sits on Joe’s other side. The group is incredibly welcoming, telling funny stories and light-hearted jokes while catching up on school and social lives and stories from home.

They eat greasy burgers and fries and Max laughs so hard her stomach hurts. Joe’s arm tucks around Will and Mike’s does the same around El. Dustin doesn’t bat an eye at any of it and neither does Lucas, so Max just assumes that the behaviour is absolutely normal for the group. At some point through the meal, Lucas’s arm drapes along the top of the booth behind Max and she almost desperately wishes for it to drop down against her shoulder.

Still, she feels optimistic about things and ribs Lucas in time with the other friends and joins him in teasing Dustin or Mike about one thing or another. Joe and Will are the first to head out since they have to head across town back to their campus and El and Mike leave next, heading, apparently to El’s dorm. Dustin shrugs bids Max and Lucas goodbye, heading back to his own place.

Lucas and her walk back together, a companionable silence settling between them.

“Your friends are cool,” Max admits as they finally reach the entrance to their building.

Lucas grins. “I’ll add you to our group chat. I think everyone really likes you and you should definitely hang out with us again. Plus, I think El will love not being the only girl around.”

Max smiles faintly as she reaches out to punch the elevator button. Her hand gets there a split second before Lucas’s and his finger jabs onto hers and she recoils sharply. Lucas blinks in surprise and they make awkward eye contact before they both burst out laughing.

“Wow, that was stupid,” he chuckles.

Max grins. “Yes, it was, Stalker.”

The elevator doors open and they step in together. Lucas pushes the button for nine and the doors slide shut. There’s an awkward pause before he looks at her.

“Hey, do you want to come over and watch a movie? I have a whole collection of stupid retro films I think you’d like.”

Max finds herself smiling stupidly. “Only if we get to watch in my room. I’m almost 100 percent certain my bed will be more comfortable.”

Lucas laughs and Max’s stomach flips again. “Whatever helps you sleep better.”

She jabs her elbow against his ribs, smirking. “Literally.”

He snorts. “That one was bad, Mad Max.”

She shrugs. “You set me up for it.”

The one thing Max had not expected from befriending the Party, as they called themselves, was the sheer amount of nerdiness that came with them. Sure, she is studying Chemistry, but nothing prepared her for Engineer-Lucas, Biochemist-Dustin, Physicist-Mike, and Art Major-Will in full on geek mode. Sure, seeing Lucas and Mike’s room might have warned her, but when someone knocks on her door at 7pm on a random Friday night, she isn’t expecting El and Joe to ask her to save them.

Apparently, Friday nights are exclusively reserved for the Party’s D&D sessions. Max has no issues with the game itself, just the fact that it routinely means shouting from next door as she tries to study. It does mean, however, that she gets to hang out with El and Joe a lot and make fun of their boyfriends and friends.

The one night she had dared sit in on a session out of morbid curiosity had been hilarious and actually almost interesting enough to sit in on a second, but the instant she had been asked by Lucas what she had thought, El had shaken her head frantically, telling Max that it was a terrible idea.

So Friday’s become El-Max-Joe nights while the party plays D&D next door, and Saturday nights become Lucas-Max nights as they watch stupid 80s and 90s movies or really terrible horror movies. Dustin joins them occasionally, but it’s mostly just Lucas and Max. Max loves Saturdays, but some part of her wedged deep inside refuses to let her ask Lucas if he thinks that their movie nights are kind of like date nights.

The party makes plans to go home for Thanksgiving and Max ignores the calls from her mother insisting that she come home and she prepares to stay at school and be lonely. She isn’t expecting Lucas to stare at her like she’s lost her head when she says she isn’t going home. She also definitely isn’t expecting him to invite her back to small-town Hawkins to celebrate with his family. Not sure what else to do, she accepts, and the grin he gives her makes it worth it.

The drive back to Hawkins is three hours and her, Dustin, and Lucas all take turns DJing and singing along terribly to loud music. The three of them carpool in Lucas’s car and he drives the whole way since Lucas mentions something about Dustin being a terrible driver. Max just laughs and calls shotgun, delegating Dustin to the backseat.

Hawkins is a criminally small town, but from the stories she has heard from the Party, it looks exactly like she expects. Lucas points out the Sheriff’s office where El’s dad works and the general store where Will’s mom works and the tiny post office where Mike’s sister and Will’s brother both work part-time.

They drop Dustin off first, and all the nervousness that Max had been suppressing returns full-force as she realizes she is about to spend an entire weekend with Lucas and his family. Lucas doesn’t pick up on it until he pulls up outside a quaint two-story house and he looks over at her.

“Jesus, Max, you’re white as a sheet. Are you okay?” His hand finds hers where it sits limply on the console.

The touch is reassuring and gentle and Max exhales slowly. “Yeah, I guess I’m just grateful to be here. You really didn’t have to do this.”

Lucas shakes his head. “Hey, my family is legendary for Thanksgiving celebrations. I want you to be here, and I know my family will love you.”

His confidence bolsters her own and she nods finally. “Okay, yeah, let’s do this.”

Lucas’s mom is incredibly nice. His dad’s a little rougher, but still warm and welcoming and Max understands where Lucas’s kindness has come from. His family home is cozy and generous and a little loud, but it feels like a home. Lucas and his sister Erica bicker relentlessly, but the smiles that play on the faces of both parents let Max realize that this is exceedingly normal.

Compared to the brother-sister relationship she knows, and the relationship she has seen between her mother and step-father, everything that she sees at the Sinclair’s is a huge breath of fresh air. Their adoration and love for each other shine through even in the barbed insults that get traded by the siblings. Still, Max loves Erica and her sass and Lucas’s parents for being so incredibly kind to her.

They set her up in the guest bedroom and she sinks onto the mattress slowly, exhaling. It’s almost overwhelming, the amount of love that is in this house. And it hurts to know that this is the kind of thing she missed out on back in California. She doesn’t realize how long she just sits there numbly until Lucas is knocking on the doorframe.

He looks a bit concerned at her expression and he wanders in and sits next to her. “Earth to Max? Are you okay?”

Max shakes herself. “Yeah, yeah I’m great, actually. It’s just nice to be in a place where Thanksgiving is a happy thing.” She bites her tongue after she speaks and expects a prying question in response, but as always, Lucas tactfully avoids making her uncomfortable.

“My mom likes you already. Be careful, or you might find yourself invited back for Christmas and Easter.” He says it like it’s something terrible and Max laughs weakly. Spending the holidays with people who are pleasant and don’t throw fists and scalding words at every opportunity has been her dream since her mother married Neil.

Max leans her head against Lucas’s shoulder. He tenses for a moment before he relaxes, resting his head atop hers. “Thanks, Lucas,” she mumbles softly.

Thanksgiving is a respite, a light in her darkness, and she feeds off of the feeling of family that it left her long past November and into December as Lucas drops her off at the airport to fly home to California for Christmas. They’re wearing matching grey sweaters with ‘Purdue’ on them in gold and Max gives him a last smile before she slips out of his car.

She’s grabbing her suitcase from his trunk when he walks up beside her. He places it on the ground and pulls her into a sudden hug. She squeezes him back and has to force back tears as he pulls away. She’s going to miss him and the whole party over the break, but it’s only just two weeks. A part of her wants to just jump back into the car and go to his place with him where his mother’s smile and cooking and his father’s jokes and stories and Erica’s stubborn sass will have her laughing till her sides hurt, but she has to go home eventually.

Christmas sucks. Dinner is burnt and dry and tense and by the time Max gets on a flight back to school in the beginning of January, her Purdue sweater is hiding several bruises and a healing cigarette burn on her shoulders and arms. She was decidedly not coming home for summer, and not everyone in the house had been pleased with that news.

Mike and El pick her up from the airport because Lucas isn’t back from Hawkins yet, but Max is still incredibly glad to see the couple. They chat on and on about their break and how much fun they had and how they got the whole group together except her and how obviously she was missed. Max smiles and sinks into the seat, relishing the fact that she was back in Indiana and that Billy and Neil were in California and it would be a long while before she would see them again.

In early March, the whole party finds themselves at a house party halfway between Will and Joe’s art school, and El’s dorm on the east end of campus. The party is loud. Some popular rap song is blaring through the house, physically shaking it, but Max is buzzed enough that she’s still having a good time. She and El had just finished destroying Mike and Dustin in a game of pong and now she was standing with Lucas and Dustin to one side of the room after Mike and El had disappeared to dance.

Dustin drains the last of his drink and looks in both Lucas and Max’s cups. They’re both nearly done too so Dustin taps the bottoms of them to encourage them to finish. Max tips hers back, swallowing the last of the cheap beer and passes it to Dustin with a sly grin. Lucas follows her lead.

“I shall return fair maiden and sir,” Dustin says jokingly as he takes all three cups and vanishes to the back of the house, leaving Max and Lucas alone.

Lucas opens his mouth to say something, but as he does, the rap song abruptly changes to an AC/DC song that Max doesn’t completely hate and she grins.

“Wanna dance, Stalker?”

Lucas gives her a lopsided smile. “Sure thing, Mad Max.”

She grabs his hand and tugs him to the edge of the dance floor. Her hands land on his shoulders as she shimmies to the pounding beat, singing along with the rest of the party. Lucas’s hands find her waist and they move together. He doesn’t sing, but Max notices his eyes don’t leave her face at all and he looks happy. The dance makes her deliriously happy: she’s drunk and dancing with her friend/neighbour/definitely crush and it’s a good night.

Everything is going great right up until the moment she feels a pair of firm hands fall deliberately onto her ass. Max wheels around, hands flying up to shove the guy molesting her, but they meet a solid chest and the guy doesn’t budge.

“What the hell?” she demands angrily. “Keep your hands to yourself, asshole.”

The guy smirks and looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the deep scoop of her shirt. “Hey, an ass like this should be dancing with a guy who actually knows how to please a girl,” he drawls casually. His hands mimic an hourglass shape in front of him and Max is barely able to restrain from punching him right then and there.

She can feel Lucas go rigid with fury behind her and his voice is like glass when he speaks. “Back off, Troy.”

Troy, the douche, smirks and eyes Lucas. “What, Sinclair, scared she’s gonna slip out with a real man?”

Max scoffs loudly. “Unlikely.”

Troy’s smug look flickers. “Come on, babe, let me give you a real ride.” He reaches for her as if to grab her hips, and Lucas steps up quickly, snagging Troy’s hand at the wrist.

“Touch her again,” he says coldly. Troy’s eyebrow lifts. “What are you gonna do about it, Sinclair?” His other hand drifts forward and Max steps back instinctively.

Just as she steps back, Lucas steps around her and decks Troy clean in the face. The douche recoils sharply, swearing. Lucas is rigid in front of her and Troy manages to get a clean swing back at him, catching the side of his face. Lucas jerks away from the punch and Troy goes for his stomach. His defensive body positioning saves him from the brunt of the blow, but Max can still hear the sick thus it makes against his stomach. She winces and Lucas crumples back from the hit. She reaches to steady him, and his hands grip onto her arms tightly as he swears darkly.

Max fixes Troy with a wicked glare and is glad to see that Lucas’s shot got his nose which is bleeding and looks a little crooked. Just as it looks like the douche is about to go after Lucas again, his arm is caught by Dustin on the backswing. Max has never been so glad to see the rest of their friends in her entire life. Dustin and Mike are at the front, twin images of anger and El, Will, and Joe stand just behind them.

“What going on?” Mike asks, his voice sharp as he glares at Troy. “Don’t you have high schoolers to prey on or something?”

Dustin’s drops Troy’s arm and the bully jerks away, quickly noticing he’s outnumbered. He gives Max and Lucas one last dark look. “Crazy bitch isn’t even worth my time,” Troy growls before he disappears into the crowd.

Max tenses at the insult, but she can feel Lucas’s body go rigid with offence and she squeezes his arms to ground him. “He’s a dick, Lucas, it’s fine.”

Lucas stands up straight, glaring after where he disappeared to. “It’s not fine. Troy’s been harassing us since we were kids and he probably wouldn’t have even gone after you if he hadn’t seen us together.”

El shakes her head. “It’s not your fault Lucas, we all know what Troy is like.” Lucas scowls and turns his head slightly away from Max.

Will frowns suddenly. “Jesus, Lucas, how hard did he hit you?”

Max’s head snaps in Will’s direction and she sees that he and the rest of the party are admiring the split skin and developing mark on the top part of Lucas’s cheekbone. She frowns. “Anyone know where we can get some ice for that?”

Joe clears his throat. “Will and I were actually gonna head back to my suite and I know we have some in our freezer. You guys are welcome to crash there if you’d like.” Max nods. She doesn’t much feel like crossing campus in the dark at night since Joe’s apartment-style suite is much closer.

“You’re okay with this many people?”

“Mike and I can go to my dorm. It’s close by,” El says quickly.

“And I already promised Suzie I’d walk her home, so I’ll crash there,” Dustin adds.

Will shrugs. “We can figure out a makeshift mattress for one of you and the other can take the couch.”

Lucas eyes Max. “You good with that?”

Max shrugs, giving him a small smirk. “No problems here, Stalker. We do need to get some ice on that though.”

With plans set and the party winding down, Max follows Joe and Will out of the house, Lucas on her heels. The couple leads the way, Joe’s arm dropped over Will’s shoulders as they chat quietly, leaving Max with Lucas who has barely spoken to her since decking Troy.

The walk back to Joe’s is only a few minutes. Joe’s actual roommate, he informs them, barely lived in the suite, hence why there would be no issues. Will almost immediately disappears to Joe’s bedroom, looking like he was going to collapse. Joe points out the freezer and then follows his boyfriend, also looking drained.

Max and Lucas are left standing in the kitchen alone. The light down the hall clicks off, confirming that there was going to be no funny business from the boys because they were tired. Max then immediately turns to the freezer, looking for an ice pack.

Contrary to Joe’s statement, there is actually no ice the freezer; however, there is a bag of frozen peas which she passes to Lucas. Lucas accepts it and moves to sit on the couch in the suite. He stares blankly at the coffee table as he holds the peas to his face and Max frowns.

“Thank you, Lucas, for sticking up for me. You really didn’t need to punch him though,” she says after a long, awkward moment.

Lucas’s warm eyes flick to her. He shrugs, keeping the frozen veggie’s attaches to his cheekbone. “I kind of did. I’ve wanted to punch Troy since like third grade and the guy is a total asshole to girls.”

Max chuckles darkly and walks out of the kitchen. “No argument from me there.”

Lucas lets out a deep sigh. “I hate guys like that. Those who take advantage of girls or look down on people because they’re girls or they’re gay or–“ he cuts himself off suddenly, his gaze dark.

Max licks her lips. “Black?” she offers quietly. Lucas nods.

He sighs again. “Hey, it’s better than it used to be.”

She drops onto the couch next to him. “And thank god for that.” She pauses. “I’m sorry people still treat you like that.”

“As long as you never do, then you have nothing to apologize for.” Billy’s face and her stepfather’s face flare across her memory and the rage they’d displayed when they’d met Angela, Max’s only person of colour friend in California. She swallows and looks at Lucas again. She gets an eye full of frozen veggies covering dark skin and a curious look in return.

“Let me see it,” she says, reaching up to pull the peas away. As she does she sees the raised edges of where the skin split and the slightly puffy, shiny skin where he was hit. His dark complexion is helpful in hiding the bruising, but the purple shading is already filling in, so the shiner is going to be good and obvious anyway.

Max laughs wryly. “God, if you were at least white like the rest of us losers I could help you cover that, but I don’t think ivory shade foundation is going to be much of a help. Not even my neutralizes will help you.”

Lucas blinks slowly at her, confusion muddling his expression. “Max, why do you know so much about covering bruises?”

She tenses. “Skateboarding,” she replies instinctively, but the look on Lucas’s face tells her that he doesn’t buy it for a minute.

“Does this,” he pauses, his tone even and cautious, “have anything to do with why you didn’t go home for Thanksgiving and why you don’t talk about Christmas break?”

Max doesn’t reply, dropping her gaze to the floor. She doesn’t want his pity and shame floods through her hotly. She doesn’t want him to look at her like some wounded animal. Lucas sighs when she doesn’t reply and she feels his arm drape over her shoulders as he pulls her into a sideways hug.

“Jesus Christ, Max, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just don’t say anything then,” she says shortly. She leans into him, letting her head rest against his collarbone. “Don’t say anything.”

He adjusts his arms around her, but says nothing.

Max wakes up warm in the morning and her left arm is completely numb. She jerks it, trying to get feeling back before she blinks harshly and realizes her nose is pressed into the red-checked pattern of the shirt Lucas had been wearing the night prior. She realizes they’re awkwardly positioned on the too-small couch, wrapped together with their legs entangled and that’s why she can’t feel her arm.

She elbows him. “Lucas,” she hisses. “Wake up, Stalker.”

He stirs beneath her and blinks half-asleep eyes at her when he comes to. “Hey Mad Max, what’s up?”

She squirms against him and slides her arm free, but the action nearly sends her toppling off the couch, and Lucas squeezes her against his chest to steady her. She blushes at the close proximity and intentionally draws away. She slides off the couch and stretches her arms above her head. She hears him yawn and sit up behind her.

It’s not like they haven’t fallen asleep together on Saturdays during their movie nights, but they’ve never woken up quite as entangled as that before. It felt personal and incredibly domestic, and as much as she tries to deny it, it felt comforting and nice.

She reaches out to check her phone and her heart sinks when she sees that Billy has sent her several texts.

Remember what I said over the break.

No unsavoury types or I swear they’ll never know what hit them.

Billy’s threats are so thinly veiled they might as well as punched her in the face. He’s stalked her on Facebook before and he’s clearly seen the pictures of Lucas and her grinning and laughing at the arcade. Panic seizes Max’s chest and she almost forgets how to breathe. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that Billy is across the entire country because all she can see is Troy the douche decking Lucas in the face for having the audacity to defend Max.

She must look like she’s been tased or something because Lucas coughs lightly. “Max, are you alright?”

“Fine,” she says shortly. Her voice is flat and unconvincing, but her heart is racing and fear holds her tightly. “I’ve got somewhere to be though, so I have to run. Thank Will and Joe for me, okay?” She doesn’t turn to face him–she can’t–as she heads for the door and jerks on her shoes and coat.

“Hey! Max, wait!” Lucas calls after her, stumbling tiredly off the couch.

She doesn’t pause, just turns and bolts out the door.

Max is only back in her room for fifteen minutes before someone’s knocking on it. She hopes it’s El or Dustin or Mike or even the stupid floor RA, but the knocking persists when she ignores it and her stomach sinks.

“Max!” Lucas calls. “Come on, open the door!”

He keeps up the incessant knocking for five whole minutes before Max loses her patience. She swings the door open suddenly and Lucas has to physically stop himself before he smacks her in the face trying to knock. He seems taken aback that she actually opened the door.

He’s still wearing the same rumpled clothes from the night before and the gleaming bruise on his face is painfully obvious in the cheap lighting of the hallway. Concern is written all over his expression and Max has to stop herself from slamming the door in his face.

“Hey, can we talk about what the hell that was at Joe’s?” he asks once he seems certain that she’s not going to slam the door.

Max exhales slowly. “I had a call to make,” she lies through her teeth.

Lucas frowns. “I didn’t push you last night Max, so don’t lie to me.”

She exhales slowly, closing her eyes. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” she says shortly.

Lucas blows his breath out through his nose, looking confused and a little annoyed. “What the hell, Max? We’ve been friends for seven months and you just want to cut me off?” She must hesitate long enough that Lucas knows something is really wrong because he doesn’t let her reply. “This is obviously not coming from you, so if I did something last night or this morning that was out of line, tell me because I don’t have a clue! I thought everything was going great and last night I might have actually freaking kissed you before the whole Troy thing happened, but apparently, I read that situation all wrong too!” He sounds more frustrated than angry and when she looks at him, the emotions are written all over his face.

She loves Lucas. She loves how he wears his heart on his sleeve. She loves his quirky jokes and biting sarcasm that matches her own. She loves his dedication to his friends and his no-shit-taken personality. He’s funny and clever and a whole lot better than someone as fucked up as she is deserves.

“No,” she says weakly. “You don’t get to say that,” she insists.

Lucas glares at her, but there’s no malice behind it. “And why not? Because it’s true? Why are you so afraid to admit that we’ve had something for long enough that everyone seems to know it except us?”

Max’s heart breaks. “Because you can’t like me! Because I’m all kinds of fucked up! Because I’ll never be able to bring you over to my house to visit or to meet my family because they’d beat the shit out of both of us because they’re horrible people! Because your family showed me more kindness in one weekend than I can remember in my entire childhood and your friends have made this place more home to me than the state I lived my entire goddamn life. Because I don’t know how to protect you when people attack you for being who you are or how to thank someone for sticking up for me like you did. Because I don’t know how to love you without hurting you because everyone who ever fucking loves me gets hurt!”

The words are sharp and biting and feel unfamiliar on her tongue, but they’re undeniably the truth and the confession is written there, plain for him to see. Lucas is silent, eyes blown wide, and clearly taken aback. Max counts to ten silently in her head and when he doesn’t move, she turns to close the door.

It’s almost all the way closed when his hand shoots out to grab it. He forces it back open and steps into her room. Instead of pity and fear like she had expected, his gaze is warm and affectionate. His hands grip her upper arms and she forces herself to meet his gaze.

“Mad Max, I don’t care about any of that. Your family sounds like a bunch of assholes that I don’t ever need to concern myself with. I’m not afraid to be with you because you think you’re broken because I look at you and I just see this girl who’s witty and smart and beautiful and I think, ‘Damn she’s something else’, because I like you, Max. The Party loves you, my family loved you, and you’re not just some passing thing in my life. I would take a million punches from Troy for you and I would spend a million lifetimes trying to show you how loved you are. Because you are, Max, because I love you.”

Lucas’s confession is honest and open and something in Max’s chest breaks and everything comes to a stop. She rocks forwards and kisses him hard. His hands slide up to cup her face as he kisses her back fiercely. Billy and Neil and Troy and every other stupid, racist, sexist, asshole she’s ever met leave her brain as she wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses him until she can’t breathe because he is real and he loves her.

She pulls back, gasping, but Lucas keeps their bodies in the same space, breathing hard. Max presses her forehead to his. Her heart pounds and she swears that she can hear his beating too.

It’s not perfect and it’s not easy, but she loves him. She loves him more than rockstars, and skateboards, and old fashioned arcades, and California, and sarcasm. She loves their friends and Indiana and every stupid movie he’s ever played for her.

And he loves her. And it’s enough.

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