#sapphic fic
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Chapter Two: Safe From Heartbreak
The Pariahs That Saved The World [Masterlist]
Word Count: 6.3k
Warnings: nothing overtly horrible happening, mention of a funeral, mention of Victor Creel's appearance, canon-typical chapter here folks
[A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone supporting this story and I really hope I don't disappoint everyone. I am restricting myself to one chapter each week mostly because I really need the rest huns, it's been stressful lately x Anyways, enjoy this lengthy chapter of queer adorableness <;3]
Safe From Heartbreak
“You brought her?!”
Steve’s concern was met with Robin’s innocent smile, raising her hands to sheepishly shrug. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it; you were stood right there with that familiar scowl you reserved just for him.
Robin wasn’t sure how people were going to react when they found out she had gone and begged you to help them. There was a small but vital discussion about it before she decided to break all those rules. But she knew you had to be here.
“What did we say about making her do this? She didn’t wanna come.” Steve whispers at her, but the room was too small for privacy.
“Firstly, she is right here.” You say, folding your arms. “Secondly, Robin didn’t make me do anything. I’m here to help.”
“What made you change your mind?” Nancy speaks up from where she sat beside Lucas. You felt a pang of guilt when you remembered how you spoke to her last time. You had expressed your outright refusal to be a part of this and here you were, contradicting your own words.
“We all have people we need to protect, right?” You say quietly, avoiding her piercing eyes.
Steve runs a hand down his face as he sighs in defeat, relaxing his shoulders. You watch how his eyes dart to the corner and you look over, heart wrenching at the sight of Max staring back at you. She smiles, so you walk over with Robin’s gaze unknowingly fixed on your back.
“I’m gonna grab some drinks.” Nancy sighs, setting down the remnants of your old project folder. “Anyone want anything?”
“Some water?” Lucas asks and she nods, leaving the room in silence.
“Does she seem alright to you?” Steve asks, a soft frown on his face as he looks up the staircase.
“Why are you so worried, Steve?” Dustin speaks up with a mocking tone in his voice. Steve throws him a glare.
“Because we’re dealing with a mind wizard, asshole.” He grumbles and Robin laughs. He sends a pointed look, lowering his voice. “You’re one to joke.”
“Huh?” She questions and he gently pulls her aside, quickly checking that everyone else was occupied. You and Max were deep in whispered conversation while Lucas and Dustin weren’t so quiet, rambling on about Vecna and the possibilities for defeat.
“I know what’s been going on.” Steve reiterates and Robin scrunches her face.
“Well you wanna tell me, or is it a secret?” She jokes and he suppresses a smile. “Come on, what?”
“Y/n.” He says and she raises her eyebrow, automatically looking to where you sat beside Max, smiling at something the girl was saying.
“You like her.”
Her stomach drops, head whipping back to where Steve stood with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What?” Her eyes widen, looking flustered. She glances back over to you again, watching you laugh. “I- no. No, that’s not what’s happening.”
“Uh-huh.” He waggles his eyebrows, nudging her. “You’re not fooling me. You literally can’t take your eyes off her.”
“That’s not- I’m not.” She huffed, squeezing her eyes shut. “That’s not why I’m watching- wait, when did we move to making fun of my love life?”
“So it is a love life problem.” He points out and she shuts her mouth.
“I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Thank god.”
Robin attempts to speak, opening and closing her mouth until she huffs in frustrated defeat, storming away.
As Max turns away from you to continue working on her writing, you place a hand on her shoulder in silent goodbye and walk over to Steve, raising your eyebrow.
“I see you haven’t lost your effect on women.” You comment, head nodding to the staircase.
“Ha ha.” Steve rolls his eyes.
When he doesn’t continue speaking, you assume he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. It made sense. You had ended the idea of friendship between you both horribly, warping his feeling for you into a reason of hatred. It was a long time ago now, but you still regret what you did when you see that look on his face.
As you move away, his soft grip suddenly reaches out and pulls you back, surprising you.
“Are you okay?” He asks. He sounded genuine, throwing you off guard as you blink up at him. With a sigh, he’s running a hand through his hair. He always did that when he was nervous. “You didn’t… you didn’t speak to us before you left last year.”
“I’m…” You start, frowning. You didn’t speak to us before you left last year… Bullshit. “Yeah, I’m fine. Looking forward to getting rid of this Vecna guy, anyway.”
“Yeah.” He sighs, looking over to the corner. “Thanks for helping. I know Max really appreciates it. You guys were always close.”
“I’d do anything for her.” You admit, nodding furiously. Your mouth suddenly feels dry and you look around. “Wasn’t Nancy getting water?”
“Yeah, I’m getting seriously thirsty right now.” Lucas mumbles, groaning when he notices all the information he has to cover on the table in front of him.
“She and Robin are probably chatting about girl stuff.” Dustin shrugs and you tilt your head.
“Girl stuff. Really?”
“I don’t know.” He raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes.
“Fine, I’ll go see where they are.”
Part of you was glad you could escape that basement for a moment. In no means did it feel crowded space-wise, but having these people stare at you felt suffocating. You could physically feel them trying to solve you like a jigsaw puzzle, wondering why you came back, why you were truly here. Why you left.
The distinct sound of Robin’s voice radiated from the kitchen, pulling you towards the room before you realised your feet were taking you closer. You poke your head around the corner to see her standing by the kitchen island in conversation with Karen, eyes light as she expresses gratitude for letting them be here.
“Anytime. I like having a full house.” Karen says, smiling and grabbing her purse. “I am just running out, let Nancy know I’ve left.”
“Will do.” Robin salutes, making the older woman laugh.
“Hey, hon.” Karen coos as she walks past you and Robin whips her head to where you’re leant against the door frame, a sad smile plastered across your face.
She feels terrible. Maybe Steve was right; she shouldn’t have dragged you into this. But it was too late now.
“So, Mrs Wheeler seems to like you.” You comment, the sadness breaking into genuine amusement and Robin shrugs.
“I get along with adults more than people my own age. Minus my own parents.” She states, and your face drops. You try to mask it, brushing imaginary dirt from your jeans so you could duck your head. But Robin caught it. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You sigh, gently closing your eyes for a moment before you walk over to her, leaning over the counter top. “It just feels weird to be back.”
“Sorry I dragged you here.” She says with a small voice and you look up at her, frowning.
“Robin, I meant what I said. You didn’t make me do anything.”
She dismisses it with the flick of her hand, looking unconvinced.
“Seriously.” You chuckle slightly, clasping your hands together for something to look at, leaning toward her as she sat down at a stool and rested her elbow on the surface. “I was gonna leave, like I originally planned. I’m only here for my grandad’s funeral. But… I can’t just leave when something dangerous is happening. I can’t leave Gran alone in Hawkins- I definitely can’t leave Max knowing that I did nothing to try and help.”
“I’m sorry about your grandad.” Robin smiles sympathetically, “Nancy didn’t mention that.”
“No one really knows.” You explain, resting your hand on your chin, matching her stance. “It wasn’t anything supernatural, you know? Just health… we knew it was going to happen for a while. My gran wants to keep it on the down low, have an intimate funeral. People will only bother her if she tells everyone.”
“She sounds like she knows what she’s doing.” She says and you laugh, nodding.
“She’s pretty great. Talks too much for her own good sometimes but I love that about her.”
Robin appears surprised, a hesitant spark in her eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, absolutely.” You smile, brows furrowed. “I think conversations like that are so much better. It’s… it’s expressive. There aren’t really any rules, we’re not restricting our thoughts because we are too afraid of being a burden. You can learn so much from someone when they talk like that. I really admire it.”
You look up to her flushed cheeks just in time to see her adjust her posture so the fabric of her sleeve hides the pink creeping up. You try and stop a smile, but it was useless. She looked really cute.
Robin was more than a little flustered now. She didn’t know why, but your words hit her like a tank carrying stone, 100mph, no survivors. She’s never had anyone tolerate her habit before let alone admire it. Steve might be right. Not that she’d ever say anything.
“Robin?” Your voice snaps her back into reality, eyes looking back into yours.
“Yeah?”
“I-”
The kitchen door swings open and you both whip your heads to the entrance, watching Nancy take a deep breath.
“Wait, weren’t you getting drinks?” You point between her and the tap, your original thoughts long forgotten now.
“I got distracted.” She states, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out two glasses. “I tried calling Jonathan but- it doesn’t matter. I can’t help thinking Victor Creel has to be connected. Like, really connected. None of those reports were giving any reason as to why Vecna didn’t kill him in the first place. We’re missing something. Something big.”
“Why don’t we just talk to Victor?” Robin suggests and Nancy lets out a breathy laugh, filling up a glass with water before shutting the tap off quickly, spinning around to face her.
“He’s- he’s locked up at Pennhurst, remember? Unless we’re family or some kind of authority, we’re not getting in to see him.”
Robin closes her mouth and thins her lips. “You’re right, that’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not.” You interject, glancing between them. “I know a way we can speak to him.”
“You got his number or something?” Robin quips and you fight a smile.
“I tried asking Pennhurst if I could speak with him last time. I rang them up and they told me I wouldn’t be allowed to see him unless I had permission from the director.” You explain, combing back through your memory. “Of course, they wouldn’t even let me get an appointment because I was just some stupid kid who was probably wasting their time trying to tell ghost stories.”
“What does this have to do with talking to Victor?” Robin redirects your thoughts and you clear your throat.
“When they went to hang up, I asked who the director would actually speak to. I was just trying to keep them talking so I could maybe convince them. They told me he would only take appointments with people serious about their future… and, yeah, they hung up.”
“Serious about their future?” Nancy prompts.
“Psych majors.” You say and her eyes light up. “They definitely won’t let us see Victor right away, but I guarantee we can get an appointment with the director if we were the type of students he’d want to see. Maybe-”
“Maybe we can persuade him to let us study him.” Nancy finishes and you snap your fingers, nodding. The drinks were since abandoned now, her fingers drumming against the kitchen island surface.
“Okay, and how are we meant to convince them we’re psych majors?” Robin asks, frowning. “I doubt they’re gonna let us walk in without some kind of proof, right?”
“We fake it.” Nancy nods enthusiastically. “It’s easy to create false identification these days, and I have the perfect place to do it.”
She’s already headed out into the hallway before Robin shrugs.
“Nancy committing a crime? I gotta see this.” She comments and you smile, following her out with a jolt of excitement in your chest.
You weren’t sure if that excitement was conclusive to the thrill of the investigation, or the eagerness you felt to spend time with the new friend you couldn’t stop thinking about.
“How long does it take you guys get some water?” Steve questions as you all come rushing down the stairs. Lucas frowns when he notices you were holding files instead of glasses.
“Okay, so…” Nancy breathes out with a smile, looking at you both either side of her. “We have a plan.”
“Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, and Y/n’s incredible investigative skills, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame.” Robin says as everyone flicks through the files you whipped up, a smile creeping onto her lips for mentioning you. You weren’t ever given praise for your help in this group before.
“I’m now Ruth.” Nancy nods, looking at you.
“Elizabeth.” You raise your hand.
“And I’m Rose.” Robin announces.
“Ruth?” Steve raises a brow at Nancy and she shrugs.
“Nice GPA.” Dustin looks up at you with raised brows.
“I do my best.” You reply, earning a smile.
“So, we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re writing on paranoid schizophrenics-”
“To which they said no. Just like Y/n said they would.” Robin comments, glaring at Steve when he sends her a look.
“But we landed a three o’clock with the director.” You finish, crossing your arms. “We just need to, well, charm him into letting us speak to Victor.”
“And maybe we can rid Max of this curse.” Nancy says, and you nod slowly.
“Yeah, uh, about that.” Steve glances over his shoulder before leaning forward, gesturing to the scattered pieces of paper from your folder. “We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh… we got some questions.”
“Lots of questions.” Lucas agrees.
“So do we.” Nancy states, shaking her head. “Hopefully, Victor has the answers.”
“Wait, wait, wait a second. Uh…” He shuffles through the three folders in his hands, shaking his head. “Where’s mine?”
The three of you share silent looks, Robin’s face twisting with indecision on what expression to make while Nancy struggles to answer.
“It doesn’t exist.” You finally say and he looks at you in shock. “What? We only made three. Unless you wanna be called Elizabeth…”
“What-”
“We should actually be getting ready.” Nancy cuts off his argument, standing up and nodding at you both.
Max turns in her seat and you send her a little salute, her own one sent back in return as you and Robin move to follow Nancy up the stairs. Steve cuts you off, and you see Nancy quicken her steps.
“That’s, uh… that’s not a thing again, is it?” You ask the girl beside you and she scoffs.
“A thing? No. Complete and utter nonsense? Absolutely.” She replies and you sigh, following their footsteps until it led you into Nancy’s bedroom.
“Nancy, you’re outta your mind if you think I’m babysitting again.” Steve whined while you and Robin roll your eyes, smirking at eachother.
“Okay, first of all, they’re not babies anymore.” Nancy says and he scoffs. “And Max is in real danger, she needs people around her.”
“I know, but why does it always have to be me?”
“Maybe because you still act like a child. You fit right in.” You offer with a smile and he squints his eyes.
“I liked it better when you weren’t here.”
“Oh, I’m touched.”
“Oh my god, you have a Tom Cruise poster.” Robin gawks as she enters the pink room, turning back with a suggestive grin. “You have a Tom Cruise poster.”
“That’s… old.” Nancy defends and you smile.
“Didn’t you used to kiss him every nigh-” You start but she cuts you off.
“I was twelve! That was… God, can you please not touch anything?” Nancy begs Robin, but the light brunette ignores her.
“I just- I can’t do anything here, Nance. Maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude.” Steve continues his failed attempt at joining your mission.
You perch yourself on the bed, smirking at Robin whenever she turns in awe to show you girly trinkets.
“I don’t know, I could, like, turn on my… my charm.”
“Not the kind of charm we need.” Nancy comments and Steve blinks.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, last I checked that other charm didn’t work either.” Robin calls out and Steve purses his lips, resting his hands on his hips.
“Okay, double ouch.”
“No, I just…” Nancy sighs, “Look, Y/n and I did a little digging and it turns out this Dr. Hatch…”
As Nancy tries to dig herself out of her hole, Robin points to her dresser and you move with her, slightly intrigued to know what she had found. She starts moving around books and paper until she picks up a small necklace, scanning the desk. You assume she’s looking for some place to store it and you pick up the box closest to you, assuming it was for jewellery. Robin nods and you both widen your eyes when it turns out it’s not a jewellery box, instead letting out a soft melody. You hadn’t seen one of these in years.
“… that, like him, we are true academic scholars.” Nancy ends her argument, focusing back on looking through her closet.
Robin takes the music box from your hands and turns to Steve, whispering. “Holy shit, there’s a little ballerina in here.”
You let out a giggle and Steve turns back to Nancy, unconvinced.
“Academic scholar?” His hand points to you. “They’re giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah.”
“No, but… they will.”
You both turn around to see what Nancy was implying to find her holding two of the ugliest outfits you’ve seen, nothing like the comfortable clothes you opt to wear for your daily life.
“Oh, please tell me you’re joking.” Robin cringes and you place a hand on her shoulder, pulling a face.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Steve laughs, tilting his head at the assortment of pink and baby blue hanging from Nancy’s hands.
“Well, if I’m not going then can I ask for one very important thing?” He prompts and Nancy nods unknowingly.
He glances between you and Robin, smirking. “Take lots of photos.”
Robin reaches across the bed and acquires a pillow, throwing it at Steve’s head who merely ducks his way out the door frame, still laughing.
“Can I not just wear black? Is that not respectable?” You practically beg, holding the outfit she thrust into your arms like it was a ticking time bomb.
“I don’t have black.” Nancy shrugs, “Other than an old funeral outfit.”
Your face falls and you sigh, looking down at it with an intense stare.
“What are you doing?” Robin frowns, refusing to touch her clothes.
“Maybe if I squint hard enough, it’ll look better.” You say and Nancy sounds out a protest.
“Hey, these are my real clothes, remember?”
“And they look good on you.” You say, Robin nodding along with you. “But only you. Not me.”
“Definitely not me.” Robin agrees but Nancy smirks.
“Well, you don’t have a choice.” She says as she walks out of the room. “Be ready in 10!”
She leaves you and Robin stood there holding clothes you hoped never to be seen dead in, disgust etched into your features.
“It’s just, what, an hour? Two at most?” Robin tries to convince herself, comparing the shirt on her body. “God, it even looks uncomfortable.”
“Let’s just get it over with.” You sigh, pulling off your jumper and throwing it on the bed when you realise Robin’s staring at you, that familiar red tint on her cheeks. “What?”
“Nothing.” She looks away, lips tight. Your eyes widen.
“Shit, sorry, I can go change in the bathroom-”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable, I-” She takes a deep breath. “Anyone can walk into the bathroom, we’ll just… yeah, we’ll just change here.”
She walks around to the other side of the bed, slipping off her shoes. When she starts to fiddle with her own jumper, you both immediately turn around to face away from eachother for some privacy.
You felt tense as you strip away your clothes to pull on Nancy’s ones, and you weren’t sure if it was a good or a bad feeling. You had only known Robin a little over a day maybe, but you haven’t felt so comfortable around someone for a while, not since… not since Starcourt, the hospital. Maybe…
No, you think to yourself, strapping on the heels that felt just a little too tight, I can’t let myself think that.
Robin was a friend, maybe not even that at the moment. And you don’t actually know her well enough to out yourself as a pariah.
“How are you feeling?” Robin calls out with your backs still turned, fiddling with some buttons. God, she hated this. The outfit, not you. Fuck.
She notices your hesitation, making her straighten up from where she sat perched on the edge of Nancy’s bed.
“About what?” You ask and she frowns.
“I don’t know… in general, I guess?”
“I’m… fine. A little weird that I’m wearing so much pink right now but, other than that, I’m okay.” You respond and she slowly nods, reaching down to slip on shoes. Ugh, heels. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” Robin says, standing up and immediately trying to find her balance. She wasn’t sure she could pull this off. “A little bit spooked, I guess, but hey, it’s Hawkins, what else is new?”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Turn on the count of three?” Robin suggests and you agree. “One. Two. Three.”
You both spin around and immediately pause, taking in the new looks of the girls who definitely despised their clothes.
“We look ridiculous.” Robin blinks, turning to the mirror and gasping.
“I feel ridiculous.” You mumble, shifting the skirt that dug into your waist. Robin points to her reflection in horror and you shake your head.
“I don’t even want to know what I look like. I like ignorance.” You decide, walking over to the door. “Let’s go find Nancy and get out of here before anyone else-”
You open the door to find Steve, Dustin, and Nancy patiently waiting on the other side, staring back at you. Nancy gives a nod of approval, Dustin twists his face in horror and Steve starts grinning.
“What?” Robin asks as she joins you, eyes widening.
There was a sudden snap and you glare at Steve, the boy lowering his hand and hiding the disposable camera behind him.
“Have fun.” He says before dragging Dustin away with him, the younger boy still staring at you.
“It just feels so wrong.” He mutters and Steve agrees, disappearing down the stairs.
“Well, that makes me feel better.” You groan and Robin shakes her head.
“Nope, not doing it.” She tries to run but Nancy’s grabbing your arms, pulling you with her.
“Come on, you both look great.” She rolls her eyes, smiling. “Let’s go be so smart the director can’t refuse us.”
“He’s going to refuse us.” You comment, watching the way Robin itched to be out of her outfit, your own hands fiddling with the skirt. Nancy’s hand slaps yours away and you gape at her.
“We’ll be fine as long as we play our parts.” She reminds you both and you take a breath.
“Yes, mom.” You mumble and she rolls her eyes.
“Y/n’s right, I can’t breathe in this thing.” Robin complains, struggling with her heels, “And I’m itchy. I’m itching all over.”
“It’s not all about comfort. Okay? We’re academics.” Nancy says and Robin sighs.
“Who are evidently coming from an Easter brunch.” She says and you laugh, snapping your mouth shut when Nancy glares at you. “Also, this bra that you gave me is really pinching my boobs.”
“Yeah, and why do you look good and we look like The Shining twins?” You ask and Robin gasps in acceptance.
“Ooh, good one.”
“Okay, how about you both just let me do the talking?” She asks, looking between you both. “If that’s even possible?”
“It’s not only possible, it’s inevitable.” Robin stresses, pulling at the collar. “Because shortly, I’ll be dead from strangulation!”
Before you could even walk into the building, a man in monochrome stops you all, eyebrows raised.
“We have an appointment with the director.” Nancy smiles and you force your own, hands clasped in front of you. The man simply gives a curt nod, opening the door and jutting his chin.
“Friendly.” You mutter as you pass him, focusing everything on keeping your cool. The last time you went undercover like this was when you went to see Mrs. Driscoll…
As the man continues to what Robin assumed to be the office, she turns around to find you stood there, adjusting the waist band once again. In a sneaky turn, she makes her way back to you, dipping her head to meet your eyes.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Huh?” You look up, blinking. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… Just got distracted for a moment. Let’s go.”
You both return to Nancy in time for the door to open, a very brief greeting to the director behind the desk until you were all sat in front of him, trying not to sweat. You hated this feeling in your chest, some kind of fluttering darkness.
“3.9 GPAs.” Hatch comments, nodding approvingly as he holds the last folder; yours. “All of you. Impressive.”
“And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley.” Nancy holds out yet another forged document, the lie rolling off her tongue like it was second nature. There was a bitterness latching onto your throat then, remembering the last time she had looked you dead in the eyes and lied.
“Yeah, I know Larry. Quite well, actually.”
Your heart leaps to your throat. Fuck, you should have known that. You were in charge of the research, why didn’t you check to see-
“Eh, you know what they say.” Hatch says, raising his eyebrows. “Those who can’t do, teach.”
Robin giggles at his joke and you smile, nodding.
“Uh, yes. Yes, that’s actually why we’re here.” Her eyes dart to yours and you sense she’s afraid of messing up.
“We can only learn so much when we’re confined to a classroom.” You speak up and Nancy nods eagerly, smiling with you.
Hatch hums in agreement, “And I’m sympathetic to your struggle, truly. But there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor. You have to put in a request, and then you have to undergo a screening process, at which point the board will make a decision.”
He starts to slide the documents back to you and you bite your lip.
“I can see you’re disappointed.” He comments, “But I’m more than happy to give you a tour of our facility. Perhaps you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing.”
The way he spoke down to you had your skin crawling with fury. This wasn’t the first time you’d been talked to like a mindless child.
“And we’d… we would love that.” Nancy tries, smiling again. “It’s just that, um… our thesis is due next month-”
“And you’re out of time.” Hatch cuts her off, raising an eyebrow. “Whose fault is that?”
You purse your lip, looking at your feet.
“Ours. Absolutely.” Nancy continues, hoping to appeal to his good side. You weren’t convinced he even had one. “We just- we wanted-”
“We didn’t drive all the way here to be disrespected.” You suddenly say and Nancy’s eyes widen in shock, looking at you like you were crazy.
“Excuse me?” Hatch blinks, reeling up to spew out more ridicules.
“Sir,” Nancy leans forward, “I do apologise for-”
“Don’t apologise, Ruth. Screw that.” Robin says this time and Nancy is almost staring daggers at you both. “Elizabeth is correct for being upset. The fact of the matter is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied. And then we reapplied and were denied again. And coming here was our last-ditch effort to save our thesis. And I really… I can’t breathe in this thing.”
“Uh, well, Rose, maybe you’d like to go outside and get some air.” Nancy says through gritted teeth.
“Maybe I should, Ruth.” Robin replies and you clear your throat.
“Director Hatch. Dr, I presume?” You look at him and he nods, frowning. “May I ask if anyone has ever had an appointment with you and gotten to speak to a patient of their choice before? Academically speaking, of course.”
“Well-”
“Hm, and how many of them were men?” You continue, Hatch struggling with his words. His hesitancy told you all you needed them to. “Right. All of them.”
“I don’t understand what you are implying, Miss…” He starts rooting back through documents and you scoff, taking him by surprise.
“You can just call me Elizabeth. Seeing as you never asked us originally if we were okay with not being addressed by our professional names, I can assume that you never bothered to learn or even look at what my surname might be.”
“Well, I-” He stutters and you know you have him where you need him to be.
“The thing is, Dr Hatch, I’m not even offended anymore. None of us are. Because if we were men sat in front of you right now, you’d actually be seeing us with the intention of discussing our request to see Victor Creel instead of inviting us here to simply mock us.” You say in a sickly sweet voice laced with venom. You turn your head to Robin. “Isn’t that right, Rose?”
“Yes, it is.” Robin nods, suddenly standing from her chair, “In fact, I’m starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake. I’m breaking out in a rash, my boobs hurt. And I’ll tell you the truth, Anthony. May I call you Anthony? These aren’t actually my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously. Because nobody takes girls seriously in this field, they just don’t. We don’t look the part or whatever, but can I tell you a story?”
Hatch stares up in confusion and you hide a smirk, fixing the same glare on him as Robin rambled about summer camp, about how she was fascinated with knowing Victor Creel’s mind and you felt that flutter of darkness burst into something else, something a little brighter. You knew words could be a powerful thing, and you knew now that Robin was so much more than you realised.
“I wanted to be you!” Robin emphasises, breathing heavy. “So, forgive me if I’ll now try anything in my power, including wearing this ridiculous outfit, if I might get the chance to speak to the man that ignited my passion, and learn a little more about how his twisted, but let’s face it, totally fascinating mind works.”
She takes a deep breath and you stand up, too, ignoring Nancy’s wide eyes.
“Maybe we don’t have the official paperwork, but don’t tell us that a man like cry-baby Petey wouldn’t have gotten an audience with Victor in a matter of moments if he’d asked politely, because we all know that he would.” You conclude, both you and Robin sharing that same fire in your eyes as you stare down at this man, unwavering.
“So… ten minutes with Victor. That’s all we ask.” Robin suggests, and Hatch glances between all three of you, sighing.
“Follow me.” He finally says, standing from his desk and leading you all to the door, letting his receptionist know he’d be out.
You and Robin sneak a grin to eachother, an amazed Nancy shaking her head in astonishment, leaning close.
“You guys make a great team.” She whispers and Robin smiles, feeling giddy when you reach for her hand and squeeze for a second in victory.
“Y/n?”
“Y/n, are you okay?”
Your head is thumping, trying to force your eyes open. You felt tired and dizzy, taking in as many deep breaths as you can.
“What happened?” You manage to say, clearing your throat. You can just make out Robin’s face leaning over from the passenger seat. You blink. Since when were you back in the car? “What…”
Whatever your question was to be, your mind interrupted you with a sharp memory.
“Did I survive?” Victor says with a low voice, his deformed eyes felt like they were staring into your soul, your heart beating erratically. “No, I assure you…”
His head slowly turns towards the bars, suddenly snapping to where you stood.
“I am still very much in hell.”
“You fainted.” Nancy says from behind the wheel, a crack in her voice. “Hatch found us out, tried to have us arrested. We needed to make a run for it so you distracted them…”
“I think we can beat him.” Nancy whispers to you both as you walk through the courtyard, officers trailing behind you.
“What?” Robin frowns.
“To the car.” She specifies, determination written across her face. You nod in agreement, already seeing the familiar brown of the wagon across the field.
“Okay, I’m warning you right now, I have terrible coordination.” Robin stresses, “It took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies. I’ll just slow you guys down.”
“I’ll distract, you guys run.” You whisper, walking beside the hedge.
“What?” Nancy turns to you, Robin sporting a similar expression of horror.
“I took track for three years, remember?” You remind Nancy and she tilts her head in contemplation. “I can outrun them and give you time to start up the car. I’ll meet you outside the gates.”
“What- is this really a plan right now?!” Robin hisses at you both and Nancy grabs her hand.
Before Robin can protest any further, you quickly swipe at the ground and gather stones, spinning around to launch them at the officers.
“Just follow my lead.” Nancy urges as she pulls Robin into a run and you sprint the other way, glancing back to ensure they were both following you instead of them.
The next thing you can remember is being tackled to the ground, an array of voices shouting after you. It wasn’t an officer, though. It was a patient, her wild eyes screaming at you.
“Curse! Curse!”
She had spewed that over and over until you manage to push her off, scrambling to your feet and cutting through the trees, making out the silhouette of the vehicle just leaving.
“You passed out when you got to us, are you- are you okay?” Robin’s brows are furrowed, looking at you with more concern than you think you ever had for yourself.
“Fine.” You shake your head, slowly sitting up. “I think I accidentally ran into someone and hit my head a little. I must have been dizzy.”
It was a blatant lie and you knew it. But the truth sounded too scary for you to want to focus on.
“What did I miss?”
“Uh…” Robin looks to Nancy and your stomach drops. “Well…”
“Vecna got to Max.” Nancy says for her and you lurch forward.
“What?! Is she okay?”
“She’s okay.” Robin confirms, nodding profusely. “She’s fine. We told them about the music and they managed to pull her out of it before anything truly horrible could happen.”
You sigh in relief, slumping back into your seat. “Thank god.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nancy finds your eyes in the rear-view, frowning.
“I’m alright.” You let out a breathy laugh. “I think I severely overestimated my stamina from five years ago.”
“Good.” She smiles, and you curl your lips in return. “At least we know something now, right? This trip wasn’t a total waste. I say we take a look at the Creel House, see if we can find anything else.”
With everyone in silent agreement, you all try to calm your nerves from the day.
“I wish we knew more.” Robin speaks up after a few more minutes of driving, shifting in her seat so she could see both you and Nancy. “I mean, we still don’t really know how to stop him.”
“And why only one at a time?” You frown and she looks at you questioningly. “Victor’s whole family was taken in a night, one after the other. It’s terrifying to think, but… but what’s stopping him from doing that now?”
“Maybe he got weaker?” Robin suggests and Nancy sighs, shaking her head.
“Let’s just take today as a milestone, get some sleep, and keep working tomorrow.” She suggests and you nod, murmurs of agreement falling from both of your lips.
Your head turns back to the window, sinking further into your seat. Nancy was right, you should be looking to the positives, not digging yourself a hole of disappointment. You were so sure this trip would answer everything, but everything wasn’t as simple as you had hoped. This thing was new and it was bigger than you could ever have imagined. In fact, the more you thought about it, the clearer it became that you still had a chance to walk away from it all. You were one plane ticket away from escaping again, once and for all. In two days you’d be at your grandfather’s funeral, and in two days you will have nothing else holding you here except the responsibility you’ve all put on yourselves.
No, you couldn’t leave. It wouldn’t be right to rub it in Max’s face that you can escape this when she’s bound to it. You owed her this.
She was the only one who actually cared for you when Heather died.
taglist: @kryztalglear / @dejerw / @officerrrfriendly / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @spacedoutdaydreamer / @endurexxsurvive / @em16cor / @gray-cheese / @chaosofmanyfandoms
i try to keep up to date with taglists but if i have missed anyone or if you would like to be added please comment below or let me know via asks! [if i have highlighted your username in pink, it means tumblr isn’t allowing me to tag you so please check visibility settings while i try my best to sort this out!]
#stranger things x reader#stranger things#fanfic#robin buckley x reader#robin x reader#robin buckley#robin buckley x female reader#wlw#sapphic fic
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A commission for thewhatnow1179 (on insta) for his fanfic A Flicker of light in pure Darkness http://archiveofourown.org/works/51209440
#wenclair#fanart#wednesday and enid#wednesday fandom#digitalart#wednesday x enid#wednesday#fanfiction#enid sinclair#wednesday netflix#wenid#fanfic art#ao3fic#clip studio pro#wlw art#sapphic fic
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puppuccino
Yelena Belova x Reader
Word Count: approx. 200
Prompt: Heya, you wanted requests so how about a yelena one where they take fanny for her first puppuchino? :) - xxxtwilightaxelxxx
A/N: i don’t usually write stuff like this but yelena is adorable & i’ve been rlly wanting to write for her :,)
also why is finding good gifs the hardest part abt posting on here oml i get so frustrated
Yelena’s bubbly laugh coming from your passenger seat as Fanny licks your face while standing on the center console of your car makes you grin from ear to ear. “I’m telling you, she’s obsessed with you.”
You chuckle and shake your head as you get to the final window of the Starbucks drive through, “She’s like this with everyone babe.”
“What? No,” she snorts and pulls Fanny into a hug as you reach to get her first puppuccino from the barista. “I am her mother, I can tell. Stay in your lane, malyshka.”
You laugh before thanking the barista and driving into the parking lot to find a good spot, needing a small break from driving in the midst of your road trip. “You ready, Fanny? Ready, pretty girl?” you say in your puppy voice, smiling as she wags her tail furiously.
You tilt the cup towards her face and she digs in, in her own little world for the next few minutes.
Yelena squeals happily, “This is adorable, I’m so glad she likes it. Thank you for making the stop.”
“Of course,” you smile. “Anything for my girls.”
#yelena belova#soft yelena belova#yelena belova fluff#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova x reader fluff#florence pugh#florence pugh fic#sapphic fic#sapphic#wlw#wlw fic#marvel#mcu#marvel ladies#black widow#natasha romanoff
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half truths pt. 1
Izogie x Nanisca
Izogie didn’t die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn’t all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There’s a lot of things both of them haven’t admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though.
Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There’s a lot of respect, but there’s also a lot of love.
content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it’s only part one lmaooo).
Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!):
Dŏwe - Lieutenant
Vǐ ce - My Child
Word Count: 1,935
I love Nanisca, she’s never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There’s more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.
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Her eyes were dead set on the pair of strong legs in front of her as she pulled herself up off the ground, again and again - a look of total focus for something far beyond what was before her. Her hands made room for themselves in the hot, burnt orange soil. Her toes bent in, somehow equally as strong as the rest of her body, hinging with her every push.
The sun was just starting to go down, everyone else had finished training that day but the warrior and Nanisca had made a deal to do some extra work to get her back where she was before her injuries. She was lieutenant after all, and despite what happened - she was Agojie. They both were, and neither knew when something else might happen or when new trainees would come. She needed to be ready, they both agreed - despite Nanisca’s slight apprehension.
“170…30 more.” Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade’s end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman’s mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.
“10 more. Alternate them.” Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman’s arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always.
As the warrior swiftly - precisely - switched arms each rep, it was as if she was holding her breathe. Her core was tight and engaged, her legs never shook like any of the trainees and even some of the other Agojie (to which they tried to hide.). She was always precise, always on time, and always solid.
“You may stop now.” Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus.
The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.
“Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?”
The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.
She didn’t answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie’s breath returning to center.
“You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?” Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before.
“Vǐ ce?” She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could’ve had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn’t want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not.
Izogie’s eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long.
“I… I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn’t make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza… well you know. What’s worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then…”
Her brow furrowed as she mindlessly brought her palm to one of her newer scars. If you can even call it a scar - it had not yet healed fully. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp pain sat within the woman’s core and chest, every day.
In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.
“Then I would be dead. Or worse.”
“I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again…” She said, meaning it wholly. “An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-”.
“I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures.” Nanisca started. Izogie’s eyes darted to the other woman’s eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing.
“You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?” She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling.
“You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But…I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me…” Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn’t know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.
“But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie.” Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully.
“I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?”
The warrior was speechless, a new feeling for her. Her head dropped low, examining the soil with her eyes as they welled with hot tears. One fell to the ground between her legs, making the orange soil turn muddy. She fought them with everything she had in her, which didn’t feel like much anymore.
Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin.
She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn’t.
“Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?” She seared into Izogie’s eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade.
The warrior sat, silenced by her own mind. She knew what the Miganon was talking about. Her time spent outside the palace lately. Izogie has always been one to do her own thing, but she had never been out so frequently. She had never been secretive with Nanisca, even as a trainee. She always told the truth, loudly and openly for all to see and hear. She had always kept her sworn loyalty, without question and without force. Izogie loved being Agojie, and she respected all the rules that came along with being in the palace. She respected Nanisca, and she loved her. Quietly, underneath her reverence for the Woman King. But this was something she knew even the Miganon could not advocate for, or maybe even understand. She knew it had to be a secret.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.
Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood.
“I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?”
The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.
“I do, Miganon. Without question.”
Nanisca nodded slowly, knowing the warrior meant what she said but also knowing that she was going to keep whatever was going on from her for now. She knew the woman well, and well enough to recognize the look in her eye was as genuine as it was privately holding a secret. She wiped her hands on her tunic to rid of the dust from the ground and prepared to leave, sheathing her dagger. She could forgive one secret, for now, off the respect that this woman died for her daughter and fought to defend for her own life many times before.
“I do not approve of your trainings.” She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.
“But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal.”
Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention.
“I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth.”
She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.
“Miganon!” She called after the woman.
“What is the second order?” She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.
The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.
“Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else.”
Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before.
She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.
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hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you’re thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹
#izogie#izogie x nanisca#the woman king#izogie is everything to me#izogie didn't die in my mind sorry#izogie fic#nanisca#nawi#amenza#lashana lynch#izogie x reader#I clearly have mommy issues#black sapphic#sapphic#sapphic yearning#yearning#sapphic fic#fon language#dahomey#vulnerable nanisca#vulnerable izogie#soft nanisca#soft izogie#viola davis#for black people by black people
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Rita fic please!!!
Possibly working on opposite sides and the others find out that you are dating a defence lawyer and them being all bitter about it and believing that you would bypass Rita stuff. And then realising that no matter who you are in a relationship with you still fight for you clients.
Pairing || Rita Calhoun x Female!Reader
Contents/Warnings || Angst
Authors Note || i love rita so much it’s not even funny… i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance
No one was supposed to find out yet. You and Rita hadn’t come up with any plans on how you’d present the news of your relationship yet, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was a rainy day and you and Rita weren’t working and were finally taking some time to be together. The two of you were sitting in a tiny coffee shop together, talking and laughing quietly. One of your hands was on the table and Rita was holding it.
Neither of you were really trying to hide it, but you also didn’t expect Olivia and Rafael to be walking by that shop, Rafael making a comment on how good their coffee is, but pausing when he saw you and Rita through the window.
“That… could be a problem,” Olivia sighed, quickly pulling Rafael past the coffee shop before you or Rita could see them.
“You don’t think that Y/N would… do anything, do you?” Olivia asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just worried about how whatever that was can effect futures cases. And our current one.”
“Rita’s smart… but so is Y/N. I don’t think that they’d date if they weren’t smart enough to know the issues that’ll come with it. And I’d hope neither becomes corrupted enough to help each other with their cases to see one win instead of the other.”
“I’m still going to talk to Y/N about it tomorrow.”
“Liv… do you really think that’s a good idea? That alone might compromise your case.”
Olivia sighed, “I know.”
-
You were at SVU the next day to speak with Olivia about some detailed on the case when she brought it up.
You were taken by surprise, “You saw us yesterday? Where?”
“In a coffee shop in Chelsea. You two looked… close.”
You sighed, your grip on your brief case tightening, “Look, I know what you’re thinking—“
You were cut off, “Do you?” Olivia questioned, “Because I’m thinking I shouldn’t be bringing you anymore cases.”
“Are you really questioning my ability to do my job?”
“Your relationship with Rita could get in the way of what you’re supposed to be doing.”
“You know me better than that, Olivia.” A silence followed for a few moments.
“I’m going to win this case, whether I’m going against Rita or any other defence lawyer. I’m on the sides of my clients,” You left her office before she could say anything else to you, not wanting to hear any more of her accusations.
Rita knew that you wouldn’t take it easy on her during the trial, and you knew she wouldn’t take it easy on you either. This wasn’t the first trial the two of you had gone head to head in, and Rita had won the last one. You knew that this case was a slam dunk, but your anger towards Olivia made you even more confident in yourself and the stacks of evidence against Rita’s client. Olivia was witness to the entire trial, watching you and Rita make sly remarks at each other during your cross examinations of each others clients. Rita was, well, Rita as usual. Olivia didn’t notice any different behaviours in the two of you, and it made her feel a little foolish for what she had said to you a few days previously. Especially when the jury came back after only a few short hours of deliberating with a guilty verdict, putting another win on your belt.
Olivia approached you after the jury was dismissed and Rita was speaking with her clients parents. “Y/N… good win.”
“Thank you,” You sighed, putting your papers away and closing your brief case.
“Im sorry that I doubted you.”
“You had every right to be weary… but I don’t like being accused of not being able to do my job properly just because of who I love.”
“Love?” Olivia quirked an eyebrow at you with a half smirk.
“Yes,” You gave her a small smile. “We were going to come out with it eventually, we just didn’t know when the right time was. It’s not really the easiest thing to bring up to your colleagues.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sure you do. Barba, huh?”
“I won’t confirm or deny anything.”
You chuckled as Rita approached the two of you, “Our reservation is in two hours. I’ll see you there?”
You nodded. Rita glanced at Olivia, “Nice to see you, Captain. I heard you and Barba found out… he’s been making comments all week. Might want to tell your boyfriend he’s going to get a briefcase to the head next time he says something,” She said before leaving a kiss on your cheek and walking out of the courtroom.
“Boyfriend? Really?”
“Please, Liv, it’s so obvious.”
#law and order svu#l&o: svu#svu#olivia benson#mariska hargitay#rafael barba#rita calhoun#rita calhoun x reader#sapphic#sapphic fic#rita calhoun x female reader#raul esparza#elizabeth marvel#rafael barba x olivia benson#barson
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Seasons Meetings
By Skyler10
Summary: Daisy brings her new girlfriend home to meet her parents, and Phil and Melinda are thrilled.
A/N: Wrote this on the plane home alone to a less accepting family and edited on the flight back, so I hope this helps all of us who have parents who wouldn't react in this welcoming of a way. *hugs
Read on Ao3
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Melinda May was in awe looking back at her past holiday family photos. She’d aged, despite her husband’s protests to the contrary. He had too, but gracefully, carrying the wisdom and laugh lines of experience, complimenting his gentle kindness. Their tiny baby transformed through each photo—first into a delightful and hyperactive little girl, then to an adorkable preteen, then to a depressed teenager with long hair dyed even blacker than her natural dark brown and with matching nails and thick eyeliner. She smiled, but it barely covered the truth. Those were rough years for them all.
But the photo tradition had continued. The longer Daisy was in college, the more she bloomed. She matured into a radiant young adult, if self-deprecating and with still a bit of that old insecurity when she ran into old classmates when home for the holidays. Former teachers and senseis and parents of friends asked every time when she was going to bring home a boyfriend, how she could possibly still be single, and didn’t she want to give her parents grandchildren?
Melinda always redirected the conversation, with a protective arm around her daughter’s shoulders. Both Melinda and Phil were quick to reassure Daisy that they were proud of her regardless of her relationship status or whether she ever had children. Daisy was grateful but said no more on the subject. She mentioned boyfriends here and there, and a girl or two, but none made it to Christmas or to meeting her parents. Melinda and Phil worried that Daisy's teen years were still haunting her all these years later.
In Daisy’s senior year of high school, she came out as bi to her parents in a tearful outpouring of secrets at the lowest point of her depression, but it proved to be a turning point. To Phil and Melinda, it was also a relief as it answered so many questions. It wasn’t just her ADHD, the high expectations on her as a tech genius, and the stress of moving away to college soon. She’d had her heart broken a year earlier by a girl who wasn’t ready to be out and denied they had ever had anything between them. The girl's friends shamed and bullied Daisy for months, but eased up over the summer and the fall semester. But as pressure mounted in the spring before graduation, Phil and Melinda found Daisy in her room crying so hard that dark streaks of mascara stained Phil’s shirt as he pulled her close. She’d been photographed flirting with another girl, and the photo had made its way around social media with meme text about sin and “confusion” in “our schools,” with the cyberbullying perpetuated by the girl from the previous year who had now joined an evangelical youth group.
No one could blame Daisy for staying away after high school graduation. She spent her summer breaks in impressive internships until one of those internships turned into a job at the end of those four years. But through university and now as a working professional, she always came home for Christmas.
This year, however, she wouldn’t be coming alone. She said she had a special guest, but she wanted it to be a surprise.
Melinda and Phil lit up when they saw their precious girl appear from the airport terminal. But the bombshell blonde with her made their smiles even bigger. The blonde caught Daisy’s scarf as it fell off and they stopped so she could wrap it back around Daisy’s neck. Daisy pecked a kiss to the blonde’s cheek and took her hand.
“Mystery solved then,” Phil quipped to Melinda. Melinda sent him an amused look of agreement before they waved to catch Daisy's attention.
After reunion hugs were exchanged, Daisy introduced them to the blonde who was politely waiting behind her.
“Okay, don't be weird,” Daisy warned, “but this is my girlfriend, Carol Danvers. Surprise! Carol, this is my mom and dad.”
Daisy's nervous smile told Melinda all she needed to know. Daisy was in love. This was no mere holiday invite because Carol didn't have plans. This was an official Meeting of the Parents.
“Wow, girlfriend, huh?” Phil stuck out his hand to shake Carol's. “I'm Phil.”
“We're so glad to meet you.” Melinda shook her hand next. “I'm Melinda.”
With this warm welcome, they walked together to the baggage claim.
“So this is the mysterious Carol,” Melinda began. “We've heard you've been spending time together…”
“… But we didn't know about the girlfriend part,” Phil finished.
Carol turned to Daisy in hesitation, “Wait, did they know before now that you're—”
“Oh! Yes.” “Old news.” “Yes!” The three hurried to answer.
“Just not that you two specifically were together in that way,” Phil explained his comment. “Carol, we can't wait to get to know you. We're really excited you're here.” Phil tried to rein in his enthusiasm to not embarrass Daisy, but Daisy and Melinda laughed at how obvious it was. Carol didn't, though. She seemed to relax.
“Thank you,” she said simply. Carol didn't hide it as well as Melinda did herself, but this girl clearly had some armor up. Melinda made it her mission to help Carol see her defenses were unnecessary here and that she was genuinely welcome.
“We weren't sure who this surprise guest would be so we made up the guest room,” Melinda explained. “But if you'd both be more comfortable staying in Daisy's room, that's fine too. Her bed is big enough for two.”
There, that was obviously supportive.
“Mom!!” Daisy groaned and blushed.
Phil shrugged. “This is our first time doing this. We don't know what you want.”
“Okayyyy,” Daisy turned to Carol, “now you see why I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Carol smiled at Daisy's childish embarrassment. “I think that's very kind. I'm okay with sharing if Daisy is.”
Daisy nodded and relaxed at how well this was going so far despite her anxieties, and Carol continued.
“Daisy told me it's the first time she's brought anyone home to meet you two. And she told me about all your Christmas traditions.”
Phil offered, “Do you have any of your family's that you would want to do while you're here, Carol? And are they okay with you being with us instead of with them this year?”
Carol exhaled heavily and looked to the still-quiet baggage carousel. “Yeah, they … will be fine.”
Daisy filled in, “Carol and her parents don't really get along.”
Ah.
Phil and Melinda nodded in understanding, and Phil offered, “Well, you're always welcome with us.”
He wanted to hug Carol, Melinda could tell, but the bags started to arrive. He was always finding young people in need of a mentor or father figure and helping them believe in themselves, whatever path lay ahead of them.
With their luggage acquired, they were ready to start their holiday. The four ventured out of the airport for a first Christmas together that they would each treasure for the rest of their lives, despite all of the awkward moments and hard conversations—and the heartbreaking realization that Carol had been worried about Phil and Melinda’s reaction to Daisy bringing home a woman. But Carol's courage and love had shown through, even in that misplaced fear, by being willing to come home with Daisy anyway. Which, of course, only endeared her to them more.
Even that same Christmas, after dropping the two young lovebirds back at the airport, Phil and Melinda mentioned it as soon as they were alone in the SUV. There was mutual agreement that this was The One for Daisy, but also that Carol clearly felt the same. She was the only person who could be worthy of their daughter, from the way Carol adored Daisy to the way she always looked out for Daisy's best, from that scarf in the first moment they saw her to handling Daisy's luggage with care when unloading at the dropoff on the way back.
“That girl’s going to be our daughter-in-law someday,” Melinda had remarked as they watched Carol disappear with Daisy through the airport sliding doors.
“You okay with that?” Phil asked just to be sure.
“Definitely. And you know I wouldn't say that about anybody else.” Melinda raised an eyebrow pointedly. “You?”
“Me too.” Phil smiled and pulled the SUV away from the curb and into an opening in the airport traffic. “One week and we already feel like a family of four.”
“People always asked me if we'd regret not having more kids,” Melinda confessed. “But I think this was the one we were waiting for. Not a sister for Daisy but a wife.”
Phil recounted this story as the father of the bride a year and a half later, in their wedding toast.
#daisy johnson#carol danvers#aos#agents of shield#captain marvel#daisy x carol#carol x daisy#wlw#sapphic fic#femslash#lesbian carol danvers#bisexual daisy johnson#skywriting#melinda may#phil coulson#melinda x phil#philinda#philindaisy#melinda may POV#holidays#Christmas fic#meet the parents#home for the holidays au
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Bound | Chapter 3
Word Count: 4.2K
Warnings: implied/reference SA, torture, murder, bodily harm
Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever, or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?
A/N: well, we continue with Rosalie's revenge. Still one more chapter to go for the murder I am sure we are all waiting for. The next chapter will also be from Rosalie's "POV" since I want to show the parallel time frames for both the reader and Rose, and there's a time frame when nothing important is happening for Reader, but it does for Rose. I literally made an entire timeline to make sure things add up. Anywho, hope y'all enjoy!
Also, I want to say to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍
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It was astounding how different two lives that were connected could look so different in the same time span. Whilst (Y/N) basked in the presence of her best friend, in their love and closeness, Rosalie was going back to the Cullen residence after taking the lives of two men, with no knowledge that the witch that would change her life was less than four hours away. Had life turned out any differently, that was the closest their souls would have been to meeting. So close, yet so far.
Alas, neither knew of the existence of the other. Not yet, at least.
The blonde was angsty with revenge. Her veins itched with the need to rid the earth of those demons, to make sure no other woman ever fell victim to their claws. Her entrails churned and tightened. She needed them gone in order to finally sit with her thoughts, to allow the weight of everything that had happened to her to sink down her body.
“So you really killed them?” Edward’s voice broke through the silence of the room Carlisle had designated as hers days after the murders. “News is spreading about a psychotic killer that took the lives of the Hubert brothers. Essentially tortured them both without spilling a drop of blood. And apparently, some men have been receiving threatening letters from this killer.”
“What do you want, Edward?”
“Don’t you think it’ll serve you better just to move on? Killing those men will accomplish nothing in the long run,” he said. “Even if you think you’re ridding the world of these monsters, they will be replaced by three more. That’s the world we live in.”
“Just because you can hear my thoughts doesn’t mean that you know me,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “If you’re here to stop me from going through with my plan, then I will save you time. Carlisle could not get me to desist, and you certainly would not be able to.”
“I’m just saying, Rosalie. It won’t help you in the long run to take their lives. You’ll live with them in the back of your mind for eternity. It’s not an existence you’d want.”
“This is already an existence I don’t want, Edward. And their faces are already embedded in my head because of what they did to me. They took everything I hold dear. They took everything from me! The least I can do is take their lives. And I certainly don’t need a morality course from you.”
Edward’s words died in his throat at that moment, and Rosalie was thankful for that. The last thing she wanted was to listen to a man who thought he was better than everyone around him because he could hear their thoughts. It didn’t take long for her to figure him out. He believed he was above scrutiny. He was arrogant and entitled. And he made it all that easy to get over the fact that he did not find her attractive –not that she’d let him know. It was the thought that would protect everything she really felt.
“Well, then. If that is all, I will ask you to leave,” she smiled. “I have better things to do.”
Rosalie had nothing to do, in reality. As she let fear fester in the other three men, she did not know what to do with her days. She couldn’t leave the house because she was meant to be missing. She felt no desire to do any of the things she loved. Not even work on the 1928 Series 341-A blue Cadillac Carlisle had bought her to fix up. The only thing she could do was grow the fear inside the surviving monsters. To make sure they were sleeping with one eye open as they awaited their reckoning. Once that was over, she truly did not know what she would do with her life after.
What Rosalie did know was where Ulysses Levitt lived.
The boy came from new money, but he thought he was larger than life. Everyone in town knew where his family’s money had come from, and it wasn’t through the most legal of methods. Still, they were untouchable. Their money and their reputation made sure of that. They were safe from humans. Safe from the law raining fire down on their house and their businesses. But it didn’t protect their child from an immortal beauty dressed in the finest clothes. It didn’t keep him from becoming the next name on her revenge list.
It was still morning, but it was a cloudy day in Rochester, New York. The darkness in the sky cloaked the rains of the sun, allowing her to walk freely through the streets. Ulysses’ apartment was in the town center. And where it was usually bustling with people, barely a soul was walking the streets. The town was still reeling from the murdered Hubert brothers, the case too important to fall into the pile of cases that littered the station. There was too much money and too much influence surrounding these murders, and they needed to be solved so the people of Rochester could sleep in peace at night.
And they should have. But they did not know that the danger that lingered in their city was directed onto a very specific group of men –boys. Death had kissed the eyes of five men and had given Rosalie the power to execute Her will. If others got in her way… well, every war has its odd casualties.
Ulysses was her prey, and she was ready to go hunting.
In a sense, she pitied him. The boy had spent his entire life trying to belong. Old money mixed with new money like water and oil. It didn’t matter how much money his family had. It would never be enough to gain the same power the other families had. So, the boy –only a few years older than Rosalie– had done everything he could to fit in with the world around him. And when the events of that night were taking place, he had gone along with what his friends had told him to do. He had ravaged her body without her consent. Still, the Levitt boy was the only one of the five who had not even been able to look her in the eyes when the deed was done. He was the quickest to finish and the first one to go. And she remembered that grain of mercy.
But he had still done it. Ulysses Levitt was still the worst kind of monster.
She would grant him the same amount of mercy when it came to his death, though. Rosalie would grant him a quick and clean death. Well, with a hint of taunting. What fun would it be to simply kill him? His death would be swift, but that had nothing to do with the foreplay.
She wasn’t surprised when she found his apartment to be locked. An anxious Ulysses was talking to his father on the phone, asking if he had heard anything regarding the Hubert brothers’ killer. Telling the man that he was terrified about the threatening letters he had received and how he feared whoever had sent them would be true to their word. Unbeknownst to him, she was standing right outside his door. Granted, they were looking for a him, and they were looking for a human. Two things she was not.
Rosalie granted him the decency to end the phone call. For him to promise his father that he would call Mrs. Levitt later in the week. That he would go home on Friday for a family dinner. Things he would never get to do. But there were so many things she couldn’t do either. Not anymore. Because of him and his friends.
Just like him and the Hubert boys, she would no longer be able to have dinner with her parents. She wouldn’t be able to take a stroll outside in the daytime, feel the sun warm her skin, or even breathe the fresh air. She wouldn’t be able to plant roots in any city she would live in. And she would never be able to have children or grow old –what she had wanted most in the world. Well, that and her beauty. The only thing she would have for eternity.
But it was starting to taste bitter. Her beauty had gotten her everything, and her beauty had taken it all away. Still, she couldn’t dread on that just yet. Not until her job was done.
When Ulysses hung up the phone, she knocked softly on his apartment door. The sound of the wood echoed deep inside her ears. She covered the peephole with her hand in case he decided to look through it and ruin the surprise. But a man like him had no fears. At least, not ones he knew of.
“Hell… oh,” he choked. His eyes grew big, all the blood draining from his face. “Wha… how…?”
He tried to close the door on her, but just by reaching her hand out, Rosalie stopped it. She wanted to laugh at how scared he looked. He tripped going backward, scrambling on the floor for something to defend himself with. “What’s wrong, Ulysses?” she smiled sweetly. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Y-y-you were dead,” he stammered. “We… you were dead.”
“And I still am,” she said. “Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy, nor do you see a ghost. I can confirm that I am very much here in your presence.”
“B-but how? If you are dead, there’s no way you could be here. It’s not possible.”
“There are so many unexplainable things in this world, Ulysses. My new and improved life is one of them,” she grinned, though the words tasted bitter in her mouth. She hadn’t improved. She didn’t even want that life. But, it gave her the upper hand. It gave her just enough power to end the ones that had given Doctor Cullen no other choice but to turn her into what she was –for her body not to be a waste. “But I won’t bore you with those details. We have other things to attend to… well, we is too many people. I have other things –people– to attend to.”
“You killed Andre and Buck,” he gasped silently. “It was you that murdered them that night. And the letters… oh my god, the letters were from you too.”
“Guilty as charged,” Rosalie chuckled. “And after I am done with you, John and Royce will get what’s coming for them.”
Ulysses kept silent for a moment, his green eyes staring into the crimson red of hers. His heart had steadied, and his breathing was no longer sporadic. Somehow, being faced with inevitable death was calming him. “I deserve that,” he said. “So did the Huberts, and so do John and Royce. What we did to you was unforgivable, so I won’t stand here and apologize. I know what I took part in, and I know just how despicable my actions were. If someone had done that to my sister, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to make the ones who had done it pay. But, can I just ask for one thing?”
“And what makes you think you are deserving of a last wish?” she questioned. “I surely did not receive that commodity.”
“I know I am in no place to ask anything of you, nor do you have to grant me this request,” Ulysses responded as silent tears fell down his cheeks. “But, my mother, she’s sick, and I know it will kill her to find me here. All I want is to write her a letter. Tell her I’ve left town too ashamed of where our family has made its money. When she calls tomorrow, and I don’t answer, she will surely come here and find the letter. Then, I ask that you hide my body where she will never find it.”
“Why should I grant you this? What convolutes you into believing that you deserve that?”
“I don’t.”
His candor took Rosalie aback. All he wanted was to ease his mother’s pain because a runaway son was better than a dead one. And the look in his eyes, the way they pleaded without any more words, twisted something inside her. Maybe she was pitying the boy. Maybe she wished she could have done something like this for her own parents. Maybe it was the fact that he truly seemed to repent for his actions, unlike the empty apologies of Buck and Andre.
“Alright,” she asserted. “I will grant you that request. For your mother’s sake.”
With a sad smile, he scurried to his phone table. It took him maybe a minute or two to scribble down what he needed to say. Her eyes followed him as he packed away clothes and papers to make the lie even more believable. When he was done, it truly seemed like he was ready to journey out of New York rather than to the afterlife.
“Okay,” he sighed, tears still streaming down his eyes. “I’m ready.”
Rosalie stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She placed one hand on the back of his head and the other on his jaw. The coldness from her hands seemed to make him shiver, but other than that, he was as still as a statute.
“May your god have mercy on your soul, Ulysses,” she whispered, her eyes trained intently into his.
“Amen,” he seemed to say before the cracking of his neck filled the air.
His body fell limp onto the floor, thudding against the wood. But it was done. His green eyes were now empty, and his chest no longer breathed. Wherever his soul was sent to, she wished it a safe voyage.
The mere thought made her want to burst out in laughter. How she was wishing him a pleasant trip into the afterlife after what he had done. Even more, how she was fulfilling his last wish so that his mother could die with the hope that one day her son would come back. Those were the kinds of ironies the universe seemed to like to play.
It wasn’t hard to disappear his body. Dirt in the cemetery had recently been overturned, and it was easy enough to lay his body to rest there. The name on top of the grave would not be his, but at least he had been buried. No family to sob over his corpse, no missing posters littering the town, no one to mourn over. It was clean. It was easy. And it was much more than he deserved.
Rosalie discarded the suitcases in a garbage pile she walked by a week later on her way to the Cadillac Hotel, where John Harris was probably nursing a glass of whiskey in his room, packing his bags to head back home to Atlanta. Unfortunately, he would not return home to his money and family. He wanted to leave his mark in Rochester, and she would make sure it was a corporal statement.
Getting into the hotel was easy. As the day transitioned into night, more and more people trickled into the bar, hoping to settle their nerves while a killer ran free in their city. Unknowingly, that same killer walked amongst them in a place they thought they were safe in. And they were, technically. There was only one man amongst them who should have been trembling in his shoes, terrified of all she could do –all she would do.
She spotted him across the bar, trying his luck with a couple of girls not much older than her. And it irked her that he was not as scared for his life as he should have been. But they were paying him no mind. Thankfully, in there, they were safe. He was alone, and there were too many people around to reveal the monster that lay dormant beneath his skin. After they said no too many times and laughed in his face, he left his glass on the mahogany counter and headed for the elevators.
Rosalie thought she would lose him, but his scent had already permeated her nostrils, and she could hear the gears of the elevator clanking to a stop on the third floor. She sped up the stairs, quick enough to see him sway into room 314 and hear him lock the door behind him. Not that it would help him in any way, but he would open the door willingly.
The vampire ensured the coast was clear before she knocked on his door, standing just out of sight from the peephole.
“Who is it?” he called from the other side.
“It’s Clara,” she spoke in a higher pitch of voice. “Thought I would take you up on your offer after all.”
“I knew you’d change your mind,” he chuckled. “You girls always do.”
“Well, I couldn’t give you the wrong impression of us Rochester girls.”
“Sounds good, darling,” he said as the door clicked open. “Hel…”
His voice died in his throat as Rosalie pushed him inside. She sped until his body slumped against the armchair, and the light could hit her face. “Hello, John.”
“You’re… you’re… not…”
“I’m not Clara,” she grinned deviously. “Luckily, she was able to escape your disgusting claws. You get me for the night instead.”
“No, no, no!” John stammered. “You’re dead. I saw you… on the street. You were dead.”
“I’m honestly getting tired of people saying that,” she laughed dryly. “I am dead –in a sense. My heart is not beating, my lungs are not breathing, and my appetite… well, let’s just say it’s out of this world.”
“W-what do you w–want? I’ll give you anything,” he pleaded. Tears fell down his eyes, and it made her scoff. “Please, I am a good man.”
“It’s hard to say with all those clothes on,” she grinned. “How could you ever measure the caliber of a person with a simple look? Especially when your vision is shielded with so many pieces of clothing.”
“I’m sorry I said that,” he cried. “I was drunk and off my head. I promise I have never done anything like that before.”
“Somehow, I highly doubt that, John. See, you paint me as the type of man that takes what he wants when he wants it, regardless of who you hurt. You take, and you take until you are satiated and leave others to deal with the aftermath of your actions. You took everything you wanted from my body and left me there to rot on that street.”
“And I know how wrong it was of us,” he rambled. “But we were drunk out of our minds, and we weren’t thinking straight. We should have come back for you. At the very least, we should have left you at the hospital.”
“You shouldn’t have touched me in the first place,” Rosalie spat. “You should have let me go home to my family. You should have allowed my marriage to go through. You should have let me have the life that I deserved. Instead, you took everything from me.”
“Then, tell me what to do to fix this. Please, I know I can fix this.”
Rosalie smiled, unable to shed tears of anger. There was something he had to do, but it would not spare his life. No. It would only gift him with a few seconds more. “What you will do is pick up that phone,” she said, pointing at the ivory-white device. “You will call your pal, Royce. And you will warn him that someone is coming for him. That somehow, a man found out what you did to me and is picking you all off one by one. You will tell him that he should hide. To burrow himself in the deepest corner he can muster. And then, you will hang up.”
“And after, will you spare me?” John questioned, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.
“Oh, John, of course not,” she laughed melodiously. “But I’m saving Royce for last, and I want his death to be delicious. At least make my death count for something.”
“W-what if I called the police instead? They will tear down this door and stop you.”
“I’d be long gone before they even had a chance to step foot into the hotel. And you’d still be dead as well as Royce. Because, thanks to your brutality, I have become faster and stronger than any human in existence. I am invincible, John. Something I wasn’t that night. So, pick up that phone and call your friend before I lose my patience and snap your neck earlier in the schedule.”
With trembling hands, John lifted the receiver from the stand, rotating in the number she dictated. She could see the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead; she could hear the way his heart beat frantically; she could almost feel the way his bones rattled inside his skin. It was an addictive feeling. The power she had over him, and she didn’t even have to move a muscle. All she required was the way she looked and the words she spoke. Maybe that was why they had done it. Simply because they could.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. King,” John said as the other line picked up, panic deeply laced into his words. “Yes, it’s John. I just had some quick words to say to Royce… I did hear about the Huberts. Such a shame… I didn’t know that Ulysses ran away… Yes, maybe one day… Yeah, I don’t have much time. Is Royce there…? Of course. Thank you, Mrs. King.”
Rosalie listened to every syllable he spoke, making sure he did not step out of script. She wanted to terrify Royce King with an invisible threat. She wanted him to feel like he was being watched –like he was being hunted. She wanted him to cower into despair, even if only for a few hours. She wanted him to feel weak.
“Listen, Royce,” John’s voice spoke again. “I don’t have much time. But someone found out about Rosalie just like we thought… I don’t know how, but they are picking us off one by one… He tried to get me tonight, man… Listen, just… you have to hide, okay? Find someplace secluded and stay there until shit dies down… Ulysses didn’t leave, Royce. He’s dead… Just hide. Tonight!”
The receiver hit the base with a loud pang, and John’s gaze fell back on Rosalie. The devilish smile she wore made his insides shiver; she could perceive that much. He looked frail and weak. Nothing like the monster that had ravaged her body without her consent. The creature that had used fangs and claws to take from her something that she was not giving.
“Good,” she applauded. “It’s nice to see a man that can follow instructions. Now, John. This won’t be messy, but it will be rather slow. And I’ll tell you exactly how I’m going to do it.”
“God, please, just spare me. Royce is the one that you want,” he begged, falling onto his knees before her. “He’s the one that should have protected you. Please, just let me go back home.”
“Do you think I can go home, John? Did any of you spare me and grant me the mercy of going home?” she asked through gritted teeth. “You didn’t. No. You took my life into your hands and watched as, minute by minute, it drained and slipped from your fingers. And that’s exactly how you’re going to go, John. I will wrap my cold, dead hands around your throat and cut out your life source until there is nothing left. I will look into your eyes until your soul leaves your body. And I will make sure I am the last face you ever stare at on this earth.”
John scrambled backward on the armchair. The piece of furniture clattered onto the ground as the man made a futile attempt to escape to his balcony. There was nowhere he could go. No one he could call.
“You can’t do this!” he wailed. “Not to me. You can’t do this to me!”
“Don’t you get it? The time for clamoring is over, John. Now, say your goodbyes to the world.”
In an instant, Rosalie stood before him. Her pale hands wrapped around his neck, just as she had described. He tried to claw at them, to hurt her enough to run. But his nails were met with stone-like skin –impenetrable. He could not even move his head at the grip she held him with. Only his arms and legs could reach for a desperate attempt at freedom. Something that would never come.
She knew it hadn’t taken long. But time seemed to have slowed as she watched the colors change on the man’s face. Her fingers barely squeezed, but his skin turned an array of reds and purples until it finally paled. And she swore she could tell the second his soul finally left his body. His eyes turned lifeless right before her own. They had emptied themselves, confirming the void that had been created inside of his body. There were no more pleas, no more tears, no more anger. He was simply another body. And just like he had done to her, Rosalie left his body on the ground for someone else to find.
He wasn’t the death that would satiate her. No. Royce was on his way to dig his own grave. He just didn’t know it yet.
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My Work In Progress (WIPs) List
This post is for me to keep track of my WIPs and for all of you to see what I’m working on! I’ll try and update this as much as I can ♥️ Let me know if you have any questions about a particular WiP! If you ask nicely, I might just give you a little snippet of them… Find my navigation page here—>
Mommy… Master List
Sherlock Holmes xFem Reader smut
Platonic!Lady Lesso xFem Reader fluff
Morticia x Larissa Daughter— request from @chaoticstateofaffairs
Marilyn Thornhill xFem Reader fluffy smut
Marilyn Thornhill fluff, sick fic
More Platonic!Lady Lesso xFem Reader fluff
Nebula xFem Reader smut
Wolfstar and Quillkiller fic— collab with @nic-writes-it-all
Mommy!Morticia Addams Headcanons
First Jan Stevens fic
An Alrissa fic
One more Alrissa fic…
Lady D x Donna xFem Reader
Another Alrissa fic!
Lady Dimitrescu xFem Exmilitary!Reader
First Times Chapter 7 ~Larissa Weems
The Morally Grey Ch 6 ~Peggy Carter
Anderperry Angst— request from @rrcenic
Chrisginny request from @rrcenic
Clarissa Dovey xFem Reader content
You Make Submitting So Easy Part 2
Kate Woodstock content
Maria Hill content
Elle Greenaway Content
Brienne of Tarth xFem Reader (maybe lady!Reader…)
When the Heat is Mutual Part 2~Alpha!Larissa Weems x Omega!Marilyn Thornhill xFem Beta!Younger!Student!Reader (A/B/O{Omegaverse} Au)
Elizabeth Keane Content
That’s all for now, ciao ciao lovelies! <33
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would it have been worth taking?
A/N: I'm alive! slowly getting back into posting after a rough few months, but I some things backed up including longer fics and crossovers! let me know if anyone would like a part two :)
Tamar Kir Bataar x f!Reader
Summary: Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she drew that boundary that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your older brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.
Warnings: angst, pining, bodyguard trope
Word Count: ~2.3k
Tamar’s your best friend. Hands down. You’d spent so much time together over the years. She knows exactly what your face looks like when you have a losing hand, and you can tell when she’s bluffing from leagues away. Absinthe? You only drink it because of her. Cards? You only started playing because of her.
More and more you realized so much of your life had revolved around her, and it made sense. Tamar’s your best friend, but sometimes those boundaries get blurred and the lines crossed. One night, drunk off your ass, you kissed.
She didn’t hesitate. Tamar’s eyes caught hers, and darkened the slightest bit. Y/N leaned in, and Tamar leaned as well. It felt like the world was coming to a stop - everything around them pausing. The clouds didn’t shift, the ship didn’t rock, the fish didn’t swim. Their lips brushed, for a split second, before time started again and Tamar pulled away like someone shocked her.
She shook her head, and refused to meet Y/N’s eyes, standing up and walking away - without a second glance back. She sat there, her fingers touching her lips, ghosting over where Tamar’s had just been. It took a few seconds to set in.
Saints, that hurt more than anything else. A complete rejection - not even a backwards glance to spare. You let it go, and never brought it up. Neither did she. But - on late nights, when the book you were reading wasn’t that interesting, your thoughts would catch up with you and you’d relive every moment in detail, wondering where you went wrong - or how you could have misread the signs. No matter what angle you looked at it - you knew for a fact that she leaned in as well, and you held onto that.
Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she walked away that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.
“Why do you always follow me around?” She asked Tamar, genuine curiosity on her face. It could’ve come out rude or sharpish, but she kept her tone gentle.
Tamar laughed. “Because it’s my job.”
“What do you mean,” her eyes narrowed, “your job?”
Tamar paused, placing down the dagger she’d been spinning on her finger tip. “I’m your guard.” She said slowly, as if she was speaking to a child.
Y/N blinked twice. “Right.” She muttered, before standing up. “I’m going to bed.” She walked to the door, focusing on keeping her pace steady. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she turned her head to look at the woman. The woman who’d held her heart for so many years, without even knowing it. “You’re off duty.” She smirked, and shut the door behind her. Y/N didn’t stop until she got to her rooms, and only then let the tears fall.
-
“What are you going to do about her crush on you?” You heard Zoya say from around the corner, sounding completely exasperated.
Tamar shushed her. You counted to ten and turned the corner, keeping a bright smile on your face. A princess's smile. Tamar would know the difference, but Zoya would have no clue. “Zoya. I need your help.” You announced, and she surprised flash across her features, before her usual cool mask of disdain took over.
“With what?” She said sharply.
“I’m picking out an outfit. For a date.” You smiled, and purposefully didn’t look at Tamar. Zoya’s mood changes immediately, and she flashed a shark like grin at Tamar before breezing towards you, linking your arms and dragging you down the hall.
You might not be Grisha, but you could’ve sworn the heart renders blood pressure rose.
Once you were a safe distance away, and had ensured no others were nearby, Zoya asked, “Do you really have a date?”
A mischievous grin crossed your face. “I do.”
Zoya looked absolutely delighted. “Thank the Saints you’re getting over her. Who is it?”
"Busy body." You muttered under your breath, but told her anyways.
–
Over the next few months, you went on several dates. Most of the unsuccessful, considering they all knew exactly who they were taking on a date and blubbered trying to impress you. Several only wanted to be close to the crown. So - you resorted to ‘drastic’ measures, and snuck out of the palace, alone.
–
You were drunk off your ass in some pub, leading a ridiculously bawdy shanty you’d learned during your time at sea. Everybody loved it, and it drew a crowd in. Unfortunately, it also drew in people who knew exactly what to look for.
So, Tamar tugged you off of a bar, dragging out the front door, although you protested and cursed her the entire way. As soon as you’d cleared the door, Tolya threw you over his shoulder and they began running - damned running - back to the palace. You fought back the urge to throw up down his backside.
--
“Do you at least feel bad for the panic you caused?” Nikolai asked the next morning, as you nursed a massive hangover.
Tamar stood in the corner, leaned back against the wall, one knee propped up, and arms crossed. She looked furious. You watched her for a few moments, before turning back to Nikolai.
“No.” You tilted your chin up, mastering every part of the petulant and spoiled princess. And maybe you were being unnecessarily reckless, but right now - you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. You’d fought in a war - you deserved a bit of leniency and a chance to be free.
“I expected nothing less.” Nikolai pressed his fingertips against his temples. Sure, he put on the role of disappointed brother well, but you could tell there was a small bit of pride in him. Pride you’d do something stupid. “You might as well live a little while you can.”
While you can … That statement crashed over you.
“What do you mean, while I can?” You said through gritted teeth, and his face turned unnecessarily serious.
“You have to think about your future.”
You stood up, pushing the chair back behind you. “What. Do. You. Mean?” In reality, you knew exactly what he meant, but you’d make him say it - say it outloud and speak the bullshit into the air.
“About marriage and alliances. Your duty to your country.”
“Oh, so I’m becoming a political pawn now?”
“You were raised for this.” Nikolai gave you a look, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.
“Haven’t I sacrificed enough?” You spit out, your teeth clenched.
Nikolai’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, before narrowing. “We do what’s necessary. You know this day is coming.”
Anger rose inside you, filling your chest, creeping up your throat, and flushing your cheeks. Your hand reached for something, anything - a book, a cushion, a rock, something to lob at your brother for saying something absolutely idiotic. Tamar cleared her throat before you could, and your hand shifted back to hover at your side, clenching in a fist.
“The Princess needs some air.” She announced, before crossing the room and placing a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, ushering you to the door and out of the room before you could do something truly stupid, like assault the King of Ravka. Brother or not, Saints can get away with it, you might not be able to.
“Nobody wants to marry a bastard princess.” You turned your head to hell over your shoulder. Tamar let out a long suffering sigh, and pushed more insistently at your back.
“You’d be surprised how much people love a bit of scandal.” Nikolai yelled right back, matching your tone. Tamar let out a groan, shutting the door behind both of you.
You walked through the halls in silence. Tamar hadn’t removed her hand, and you didn’t have it in you to shake it off. The touch was nice. Comforting even. “Are you going to tell me I’m ridiculous?” You demanded, watching her from the corner of her eyes. Her shoulders pushed back, maybe an inch. Being around her so long, you know every single tell. What each movement means. She’s about to say the ‘right,’ thing.
“Nikolai has everyone's best interests in mind.”
“Nikolai has Ravka’s best interests in mind.” That's your brother, always looking at the bigger picture. He doesn’t seem to understand that not everyone wants that life. Not everyone is made for it. He played a role for Ravka, as Sturmhond. “Why can’t I disappear for a few years?” You said absentmindedly, not expecting an answer.
“Ravka’s been through upheaval. It needs all hands on deck.” It, not hers. You’ve noticed her and Tolya don’t claim Ravka. If you were them, you wouldn’t either. You know for a fact they’ve only continued to stay here because of Alina, because of her blessing. Thank the saints for that. Without Tamar’s timely interventions, you may have assaulted several courtiers by now. Your loyalty is to your brother. Not the crown. The rest of the walk to the garden was spent in contemplative silence.
-
Tamar noticed you were a bit out of sorts. Normally you’d say anything on your mind, almost a stream of consciousness. She loved that about you. The word, even in her mind, almost made her wince. The princess needed some air, but so did she. Listening to Nikolai discuss your future, like you’re a prize mare to be sold off. As your official and unofficial bodyguard for the last few years, and more importantly your friend, she didn’t want this for you. You didn’t want this. Ravka’s best interests. Not yours. But she couldn’t do a damned thing about it. If you tried to run … would Nikolai make you track her down?
“Vlachka for your thoughts?”
“I’m in the mood for snap-dragon.” Why was that the first thing that came to my mind?
“Saints saints saints”, y/n cursed, sucking her fingers in her mouth. She’d never played snatch drakon before. They didn’t have the necessary ingredients on board often, but Tamar had bought them at the last port just for this purpose. For the holiday spirit, of course. Feast of Saint Nikolai, and it happened to be the bastards favorite game, and her and Tolya’s yearly gift to him.
It’s the dead of night, with just the stars and moon to brighten the deck. Spiced brandy fills a bowl, raisins and a bit of salt are tossed in. A match strikes, and the blue flames swirl up, giving everyone a ghost or demon-like face. Curses and laughs as fingers grab for the dried fruit. An easy grin fills Tamar’s face as she meets Y/N’s eyes, the mirth and joy in there warms her heart. Saints, she’d buy these every port visit to put a smile on her face … Tamar blinks heavily, reaching for another raisin. What was that?
Nostalgia, maybe, but winter is still months away.
“Feeling the holiday spirit already?” You asked half-heartedly.
Tamar didn’t answer, pushing the door open for you instead, her eyes scanning the room - taking in stock any exits or possible threats, even though she’d visited this area at least a dozen times. She noticed you doing the same, and doubted the habit will ever die. Useful, certainly, but it speaks to your shared past. That type of paranoia that comes with those experiences.
-
Being alone with Tamar. Well, it used to be normal to you, but since coming back to Os Alta you’ve always been surrounded by people, by others. It made it easier to ignore any lingering feelings for her. In fact, they were nearly gone. Months ago, Tamar opening a door for you would have given you a few butterflies, put a smile on your face - no matter how often it happened. You suppose it’s part of growing up, moving on from your first crush. But, part of you clings to it, clings to those last dregs of feeling. Maybe because she’s your main link to your past. A past only your brother truly understands, but Tamar knew you during those times. You wonder if she’s noticed any changes, and what they might be.
“How are you adjusting to palace life?” You asked instead, hoping to prompt some kind of conversation. You could always go to Tolya for advice, probably would end up doing so, but it’s a bit easier on your brain if there’s not poetry references shoved your way.
“About as well as you, I suppose.” The same easy grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes, her eyes stayed … sorrowful maybe?
“So shit.”
She snorted. “Maybe a bit better than you.” A slightly too long to be natural pause. “Was that your first time sneaking out?”
“You know the answer to that.” You deadpanned. No, just your first time being caught. A mistake you’ll do your best to remedy.
“Just take me next time.”
“That won’t draw any attention at all.” You drawled. Going out with Tamar is like putting a big sign on your back. “We might as well bring Nikolai.”
“Embarrassed of me, now?” Her tone was teasing, but her shoulders tightened. You might’ve hit a nerve.
“I heard Tamar’s already embarrassed you quite a bit.” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, and the tension.
“Does everyone know?” You groaned, turning to face your other friend. One who’d encouraged you to do something reckless. Your jaw dropped at the smug look. “You ratted me out, you little snake. You’re lucky I can’t light you on fire.”
“Then let's go out tonight, I’ll buy your first drink.”
If Zoya's offering to go out, especially to your kind of place, you know she's in need of some kind of distraction. The curve of your lips overrode the faked indignation. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”
“Fantastic.” Zoya breezed towards you, looping her arm through yours, and dragging you through the doors. ‘Sorry,’ you mouthed to Tamar as you were dragged along.
‘No need,’ She mouthed back, turning to exit through the other door, her steps quick.
-
As Tamar turns on her heel, walking away as fast as she casually can, she can’t help but think that maybe she shouldn’t have walked away that night. Maybe she did miss her chance. Would it have been worth taking?
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#tamar kir bataar#tamar kir bataar x reader#tamar kir bataar x y/n#tamar kir bataar imagine#zoya nazyalensky#nikolai lanstsov#bodyguard trope#I'm sorry for the ending#pining#wlw#sapphic fic#no beta we die like men
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half truths pt. 1
Izogie x Nanisca
Izogie didn't die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn't all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There's a lot of things both of them haven't admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though.
Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There's a lot of respect, but there's also a lot of love.
content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it's only part one lmaooo).
Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!):
Dŏwe - Lieutenant
Vǐ ce - My Child
Word Count: 1,935
I love Nanisca, she's never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There's more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.
______________________________________________________________
Her eyes were dead set on the pair of strong legs in front of her as she pulled herself up off the ground, again and again - a look of total focus for something far beyond what was before her. Her hands made room for themselves in the hot, burnt orange soil. Her toes bent in, somehow equally as strong as the rest of her body, hinging with her every push.
The sun was just starting to go down, everyone else had finished training that day but the warrior and Nanisca had made a deal to do some extra work to get her back where she was before her injuries. She was lieutenant after all, and despite what happened - she was Agojie. They both were, and neither knew when something else might happen or when new trainees would come. She needed to be ready, they both agreed - despite Nanisca's slight apprehension.
"170...30 more." Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade's end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn't so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman's mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.
"10 more. Alternate them." Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman's arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always.
As the warrior swiftly - precisely - switched arms each rep, it was as if she was holding her breathe. Her core was tight and engaged, her legs never shook like any of the trainees and even some of the other Agojie (to which they tried to hide.). She was always precise, always on time, and always solid.
"You may stop now." Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus.
The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.
"Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?"
The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.
She didn't answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie's breath returning to center.
"You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?" Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before.
"Vǐ ce?" She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could've had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn't want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not.
Izogie's eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long.
"I... I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn't make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza... well you know. What's worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then..."
Her brow furrowed as she mindlessly brought her palm to one of her newer scars. If you can even call it a scar - it had not yet healed fully. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp pain sat within the woman's core and chest, every day.
In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.
"Then I would be dead. Or worse."
"I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again..." She said, meaning it wholly. "An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-".
"I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures." Nanisca started. Izogie's eyes darted to the other woman's eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing.
"You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?" She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling.
"You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But...I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me..." Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn't know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.
"But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie." Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully.
"I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?"
The warrior was speechless, a new feeling for her. Her head dropped low, examining the soil with her eyes as they welled with hot tears. One fell to the ground between her legs, making the orange soil turn muddy. She fought them with everything she had in her, which didn't feel like much anymore.
Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin.
She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn't.
"Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?" She seared into Izogie's eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade.
The warrior sat, silenced by her own mind. She knew what the Miganon was talking about. Her time spent outside the palace lately. Izogie has always been one to do her own thing, but she had never been out so frequently. She had never been secretive with Nanisca, even as a trainee. She always told the truth, loudly and openly for all to see and hear. She had always kept her sworn loyalty, without question and without force. Izogie loved being Agojie, and she respected all the rules that came along with being in the palace. She respected Nanisca, and she loved her. Quietly, underneath her reverence for the Woman King. But this was something she knew even the Miganon could not advocate for, or maybe even understand. She knew it had to be a secret.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.
Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood.
"I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?"
The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.
"I do, Miganon. Without question."
Nanisca nodded slowly, knowing the warrior meant what she said but also knowing that she was going to keep whatever was going on from her for now. She knew the woman well, and well enough to recognize the look in her eye was as genuine as it was privately holding a secret. She wiped her hands on her tunic to rid of the dust from the ground and prepared to leave, sheathing her dagger. She could forgive one secret, for now, off the respect that this woman died for her daughter and fought to defend for her own life many times before.
"I do not approve of your trainings." She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.
"But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal."
Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention.
"I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth."
She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.
"Miganon!" She called after the woman.
"What is the second order?" She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.
The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.
"Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else."
Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn't sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before.
She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.
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hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you're thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹
#izogie#izogie x nanisca#the woman king#izogie is everything to me#izogie didn't die in my mind sorry#izogie fic#nanisca#nawi#amenza#lashana Lynch#izogie x reader#I clearly have mommy issues#black sapphic#sapphic#sapphic fic#fon language#dahomey#vulnerable nanisca#vulnerable izogie#soft nanisca#soft izogie#viola davis#for black people by black people
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all the pieces aren't even in the box // the morning show, bradley/laura (chapter one)
about: The first panic is right after Bradley's mom dies. Laura all but forces Bradley to take the week off from TMS, and Twitter fucking loses it once Laura starts the show alone. By the time they cut to the first real break, Gordon speaks up in Laura’s ear. “You’re trending. The lesbians are freaking out.”
or, the last few months in Montana and how the world reacts along the way (and maybe how they find their way back to each other)
notes: this started as a QT on Twitter but quickly became a fic. twitter user @/falicesushi said, “hold on people found out [Laura and Bradley] were together but did they find out they broke up?”
So welcome back to summer 2020, and the first time people think UBAs two moms are breaking up. (read chapter one on AO3)
J U L Y (2020)
The first wave is right after Bradley's mom dies. Laura all but forces Bradley to take the week off from TMS, and Twitter fucking loses it once Laura starts the show alone.
Weekend anchor Alison co-hosts virtually from the TMS studio. Laura thanks Alison for joining her on a weekday. It’s a natural handoff, but Bradley’s name trends within ten minutes of being on air.
By the time they cut to the first real break, Gordon speaks up in Laura’s ear. “You’re trending. The lesbians are freaking out.”
Laura’s eyebrows pinch together. “I know it’s a nice blazer, but—“
“Laura.” Gordon’s serious voice stops her. “They think you broke up, or Bradley’s dying.”
Laura’s chest feels tight. Her voice sounds clipped as she asks, “Which one’s winning?”
He sighs. “You don’t have to address it right now, but we do need to tell them something. They’re worried about you two.”
Laura nods before she has a real response. Bradley already said she doesn’t want to make a big statement out of her mother’s death. Only a few months into this pandemic, Laura can’t allude to Bradley feeling sick without adding to the panic. Something light.
She eyes her silenced phone on the small stool that’s out of frame. Bradley’s probably still asleep, but they could game plan together. She flips her phone over, and there’s only one notification. Do Not Disturb only shows Bradley’s on her Lock Screen.
Bradley - 7:17 AM: You can tell them. They’re losing their shit that I’m not there. Just don’t mention a funeral.
Laura softens as she reads. She should’ve expected that Bradley wouldn’t actually stay asleep. Their bodies are so attuned to the early hours.
Laura - 7:30 AM: Will do. Did you get any sleep after I left?
Three dots pop up too soon after Laura’s text.
Bradley - 7:30 AM: A little.
Bradley - 7:31 AM: Part of me wishes I was just doing the show, but the rest of me can’t even get up to go to the bathroom
Bradley - 7:31 AM: I’m fine, Laura. Stop worrying. Have a good show. We’ll talk after x
Laura frowns, but Gordon pops back up in her ear before she can start her reply.
“Your break’s almost done. What’d the missus say?”
Laura’s given up on correcting him at this point. He’s been calling Bradley different spousal variations ever since she touched down in Montana. It’s sweet, and it’d only sent Bradley into one panic spiral about whether they were moving too quickly.
Laura hearts Bradley’s text and flips her phone back over onto the soft stool.
Laura clears her throat before talking to Gordon. She says, “Bradley gave her blessing. I can mention it once we jump in, and then we can get back to the prompter.”
“Do you need copy or?”
Laura shakes her head. Once Gordon cues her in, Laura pulls a somber grin onto her face. It feels false at first. Until she remembers that Bradley will probably watch this too. Laura’s face softens immediately. Eyes warm and comforting.
“Some of you have noticed that Bradley is out this morning. Don’t fret. She is physically healthy. Unfortunately, her mother, Sandy Jackson, passed away from coronavirus complications. Our thoughts at UBA are with Bradley as she processes a loss that far too many of us have experienced this year. Her thanks again to Alison for filling in while she mourns.”
Alison nods back in the studio. “Of course. My heart goes out to Bradley.”
Laura knows they’ll lose their shit over this too, but she breaks eye contact with the camera to glance towards the rest of their home. “Mine too.”
.
.
Bradley’s still in bed when Laura comes up to their room. Her face is pink in that freshly washed way. Bags under her eyes darker than usual, but at least they’re not puffy. She’s even sitting up.
Laura wastes no time in untucking her blouse. The blazer hadn’t made it out of the studio.
Bradley’s eyes light up. “You putting on another show?”
Laura gives a sarcastic laugh. “Ha ha, one show before noon is enough for me.” The only upside of working in the mornings is having their evenings to themselves. Watching the sunset through the windows of their bedroom. Wine by the fireplace that doesn’t have a camera pointed its way.
“Well, you did great,” Bradley tells her. She scoots forward with her hands out. Laura walks around to her side of the bed so Bradley can unbutton her top. Laura doesn’t need the help, but Bradley needs something to do. Somewhere to focus her restlessness.
“Did you see the copy for today?” Laura rolls her eyes before looking down at her girlfriend. Bradley quirks a brow, so Laura goes on. “A whole segment on how Disney World’s set to reopen, but we only got one line to talk about the Columbus statue.”
Bradley huffs. She drops the shirt for a moment. “Imagine opening with that.” She pulls on her UBA anchor voice. “‘Set down your sparklers, and pick up your crowbars. It was a very happy Fourth of July in Baltimore this weekend.’”
Laura picks right up, slipping into the cadence. “‘Three-hundred protestors celebrated our Independence by toppling a statue of Christopher Columbus. As our national unrest grows, we have to remember the true nature of protest.’”
“‘To fuck something up,’” Bradley declares with a laugh.
“‘To be heard,’” Laura adds. She glances back down at Bradley, but this time, Bradley’s already looking up.
The distraction doesn’t seem to be working. Any other day, Bradley would be two minutes deep into a rant about the coded language that passes for objective journalism. How Black Lives Matter protests get branded as riots before their feet even touch the ground. How the monuments to colonialism are treasured more than the American lives lost in overzealous, outsourced policing. How… how the people who die from a global pandemic are collateral damage to a nation unwilling to sacrifice its so-called freedoms.
Bradley drops her eyes back to Laura’s shirt. She starts at the bottom rather than the top this time. Fingers worrying the button before slipping it loose.
“Thanks for telling everybody,” Bradley says. The anchor voice is gone, but there’s still something performative about the steadiness. It’s not taut. Not strained. Just… unnaturally level. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it. It’s not like I owe them anything, but my life is theirs now so.” Bradley shrugs.
Laura’s face pinches. “Your life is yours, Bradley. You don’t have to worry about them right now.”
Bradley scoffs. “I’d much rather see what the gays are saying online than talk funeral arrangements with Hal.”
Ah, yes, the other person taking too much from Bradley. It’s been four months since Hal burst back into Bradley’s life. Four months since Laura reminded Bradley that her life was her own, not his. Not anyone else’s. Yet here Laura is repeating herself. How long will it take for Bradley to hear her?
She blinks it down. Tries to sound positive and conversational. “That bad, huh?”
Bradley groans from deep within her chest. Her fingers move faster along Laura’s buttons. Brushing cold against Laura’s stomach as she goes.
“He keeps fighting with me. ‘Mom would’ve wanted this. Mom would’ve hated that.’ But she told me what she wanted.”
Laura’s eyebrows shoot up. “Recently?” Was Sandy actually preparing? It hadn’t sounded like they were in contact.
Bradley scoffs again. Something spiteful and ragged. She kept unbuttoning. “When I was ten, my dad was on some bender, and Hal was…. He wasn’t an easy kid. He needed a lot of attention. And I snapped at her that she needed to give him some. He was fallin’ apart. And she — she looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘You want to raise him? The two of you—‘ meaning me and Hal ‘—you’re killin’ me, you know that? Just go ahead and take over. Don’t bother with a fancy box. No cushions. Never had an easy life. Why should death be any better?’”
Laura watches quietly as Bradley seems almost possessed by her mother’s memory. The slight slurred lilt of Sandy’s voice drags out Bradley’s dormant Southern accent. But Bradley’s still in there. Haunted eyes swell as she fights back against the energy.
Bradley pops the last button on Laura’s shirt. Then swipes her cheeks for tears that haven’t fallen. She scoots back just enough to really talk to Laura instead of at her.
Says, “And you know, years later, she said not to invite anybody from Daddy’s side of the family. They’d spit on her grave, and she didn’t want to crawl her way up to fight ‘em. Of course each time I tell Hal that, he says she didn’t mean it. But how was I s’posed to know that? You tell a kid enough times what to do when you die; they’re gonna remember.”
Of course she’d remember. An even smaller Bradley Jackson, big blue eyes taking up half her face, hair too long and pulled back under baseball caps to keep the sun from her face. Head of a household before she could even reach the cabinets.
Laura’s fingers twitch to hold her. But when Bradley gets like this, she has to work it off. If Laura reaches too soon, she’ll wind up swatted away. So she hovers. Steps forward so her knees press into the edge of the mattress.
Bradley had been mostly seated before, but she pushes up onto her knees to be level with Laura. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s too… ugh.”
That’s the in that Laura needs. She reaches her hand for Bradley’s, and her heart swells when Bradley takes it immediately.
“There’s nothing ugh about it,” Laura tells her. “I mean, it’s not great. Some might even call it emotionally manipulative.” Some absolutely meaning Laura. “But it’s a part of your life, and I don’t want you to hide that from me.”
“You say that now,” Bradley warns playfully. Her eyes plead with Laura’s though. Don’t leave me. Don’t let go.
Laura knows it’s too soon to talk about forever. Too soon to make promises that extend beyond their pod life together. But she has no interest in going anywhere else. In knowing anyone but the grieving woman in front of her.
She presses her lips to Bradley’s to keep the sentiment back. A taste of forever. A touch that lingers even as Laura stands back up to her full height. Bradley’s grip on Laura’s hand tightens. To think, Twitter was worried about them when this is what’s waiting outside the studio. That thought helps Laura go for levity.
Laura checks, “She really said she’d claw her way up?”
Bradley barely contains a smile. “It’s not funny.”
“Right.”
A snort. “It’s not! It’s awful!” Bradley cackles anyway. Buries her face in the space where Laura’s skin pokes through the unbuttoned shirt. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I didn’t. That was all Sandy.”
Bradley’s soft sigh warms Laura’s chest. “It was, wasn’t it?”
May the gates be firmly shut behind Sandy Jackson. May Bradley’s pain ease before it leaves. May Laura and Bradley make it through united. That’s not asking for too much, is it? That a couple with four months under their belts survive all this. What’s a global pandemic to a U-haul and a ranch?
They’ll be fine. They will.
.
.
(A tweet from that morning reads, her mom died?? No way they’re staying together after that. I give it two months.
The top quote tweet reads, so generous lmao. I give it a week. Place your bets #bradleylaura #UBAsTwoMoms
Bradley herself later votes, 'they’re fine. You’re being assholes.' But that choice only has 37%. Everybody else is against them. Everybody else knows the inevitable — that Bradley’s gonna fuck it up like she does everything else. They’re waiting for it. She can’t let them be right. She can do this. She can hold herself together. Big smile. Back to work. Everything’s fine. It is. In July at least.)
.
.
read chapter two
#bradleylaura#bradley x laura#tms#bradley jackson#laura peterson#the morning show#tms fic#mine#sapphic fic#fic: all the pieces
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Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy
The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)
[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]
The Introduction <-
A New Friend, A New Enemy
“Y/n!”
You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.
“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.
“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.
Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.
“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”
“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.
“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.
“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.
“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”
“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.
“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”
“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.
“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”
She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.
The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.
“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.
“Guests?”
“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”
“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”
Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.
“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”
It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.
“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.
“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”
“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.
“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.
The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.
So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.
You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.
“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.
“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.
“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”
“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”
Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.
Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.
Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.
“Hello?”
“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.
Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.
Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.
And you’d never let her down.
“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.
The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.
Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.
Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.
“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.
“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.
When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.
“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.
“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.
“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”
Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.
“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.
“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”
“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”
You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.
“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”
With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.
“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”
“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.
“Um…”
“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”
“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”
“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”
“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”
“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.
“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”
“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”
“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”
“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”
“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.
“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.
“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.
Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.
“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.
“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.
“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”
“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.
“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”
“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”
“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”
“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”
“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.
Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”
You go quiet and her eyes widen.
“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”
“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”
“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”
“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.
“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.
“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.
“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.
If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.
“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.
“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.
“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”
Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.
“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.
“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.
“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”
“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”
“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”
“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”
She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.
“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.
“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”
“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”
You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.
“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”
“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.
“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.
“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”
“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.
“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.
“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.
“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”
“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”
“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”
“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.
“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”
“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.
“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.
“But what about-”
“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”
Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.
“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”
Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?
“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.
“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.
“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.
“What do you-”
“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”
The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.
By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.
You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.
It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.
“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”
“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.
“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.
You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.
“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”
“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”
“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”
Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.
“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”
“And what if I never move on?”
“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”
The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.
Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.
“I should be getting to bed-”
“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.
“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.
“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.
“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”
“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”
Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.
Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?
“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”
You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.
The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.
“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”
Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.
“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.
“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”
“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”
“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”
“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.
“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”
You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”
Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.
But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.
“I’ll do it.”
Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.
Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.
taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive
[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]
#stranger things x reader#stranger things#fanfic#nancy wheeler#robin buckley x female reader#robin buckley x reader#robin x reader#robin buckley#sapphic#sapphic fic#st4 fanfic#st4
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Chapters: 28/30
Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair, Morticia Addams & Enid Sinclair, Gomez Addams & Enid Sinclair, Pugsley Addams & Enid Sinclair, Pubert Addams & Enid Sinclair
Characters: Pubert Addams, Wednesday Addams, Lurch (Addams Family), Morticia Addams, Yoko Tanaka, Enid Sinclair, Esther Sinclair (Wednesday), Pugsley Addams, Gomez Addams, Thing (Addams Family), The Addams Family (Addams Family), Joel Glicker, Kitty Kat (Addams Family), Fester Addams, Grandmama Addams (Addams Family)
Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Protective Wednesday Addams, Protective Enid Sinclair, Enid Sinclair Gets a Hug, Enid Sinclair is Soft for Wednesday Addams, Oblivious Enid Sinclair, Enid Sinclair Loves Wednesday Addams, Wednesday Addams Loves Enid Sinclair, Family Reunions, Good Parents Gomez Addams and Morticia Addams, Protective Morticia Addams, Wednesday Addams is Bad at Feelings, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Scenting, Mates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Underage Drinking, Slow Burn, Wednesday Addams is in Denial, Oblivious Wednesday Addams, Addams Family Curse, First Kiss, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, Girls Kissing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Simultaneous Orgasm, Requited Unrequited Love, Requited Love, Love Confessions
Series: Part 1 of Fake It Till You Make It
Summary:
"I regret that I must ask for your assistance on a personal matter." Wednesday stated, slowly sitting down beside Enid on her colourful bed.
"Are you okay?" Enid asked, suddenly filled with concern.
"I am fine, but I appreciate your concern. However, I was hoping you might accompany me to my family reunion over the school break at the manor?” Wednesday asked.
“I’m flattered. But I feel like there’s more to this request.” Enid replied, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“Impressive. You’ve been picking things up from me. Yes, your intuition is correct. My motives for asking are not entirely pure. My family has been pestering me regarding a paramore, and I cannot suffer through another family reunion with inane questions regarding when I will find a partner. Therefore, I was hoping you’d assist me with a ruse by pretending to be my girlfriend.”
“G-girlfriend?!” Enid stuttered in disbelief.
“Yes. Would that be something you’d be willing to assist me with?” Wednesday asked, cautiously hopeful she’d agree as Enid was the person she trusted the most to achieve this ruse successfully.
------------------------------------------------
Chapters come out every Wednesday (nearly complete!)
#wenclair fanfic#wednesday and enid#enid x wednesday#wenclair#wenclair fic update#Wenid#fan fic update#wednesday fanfic#wednesday fandom#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 link#fake it till you make it#fake dating#idiots in love#this fic is almost done!!!#fluffy shit#sapphic#sapphic fic#wlw fic#lgbtq#gay bitches#gay bitches in love
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Such pretty books! Cover reveal today for the second scifi mystery about Mossa and Pleiti. Set on platforms in Jupiter's atmosphere. I loved the first one which came out earlier this year, and am looking forward to the next one.
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I wrote the first Gales Of Nayeli Fan Fic
I decided to write a little micro fic about a ship that came to me when playing the demo [out on steam now]. We didn't really get a lot of character moments or anything so I did my best but I wanted to have a little fun cuz I can't stop thinking about.
#Gales Of Nayeli#SRPG#FF#F/F#Femslash#GL#Sapphic Fic#Lesbian#Sapphic#Fanfic#Fic#Annabelle x Keri#Annabelle GoN#Keri GoN#Microfic
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Coming on here to request a fluffy Nat/Reader fic where Reader is struggling with their mental health and Nat takes care of them ^^
word count: 857
genre: fluff
warnings: mentions of mental health issues (does not go into detail).
an/ i really hope this did what you wanted justice bc i am not very confident in this lololol i really hope you like it!
masterlist / ask box / navigation
you do not have my permission to repost my material and claim it is yours. that is plagerism.
likes and reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed.
Dreary Monday’s at the compound normally put a smile on your face. Rain is almost like mother nature's way of sending her love to the earth, cleansing it of all the harsh treatment done by those who take advantage of her kindness for moments at a time.The slow pace of a rainy day is like a breath of fresh air. Your love for the rain slowly became a shared love for you and your partner, Natasha Romanoff. Before she met you, she admittedly loathed the rain.
The damp and depressing mood of the sun going away just never was her favorite. Once the two of you got together, you dragged her along on your rainy day activities. Cuddling up with a nice book and reading it to Natasha while she lays in your lap was one of your favorite things to partake in.
Today was one of those days, yet something was widely different. Natasha knew something was wrong the second she came back from her early morning training session. On days like these, she's normally met with you curled up on the couch with two mugs full of hot coco on the coffee table; awaiting her arrival.
The moment she opened the door to your shared room you were nowhere to be found. All lights were turned off while nothing seemed to move an inch since Natahsa left early that morning. Immediately Natasha went searching for you. The rational part of her brain wants to think that you’re okay, but with her life and lived experiences, she can’t help but think of the worse.
She enters your shared bedroom to see you curled up in the bed. One of Steve’s oversized sweaters you stole from him is practically swallowing you. Tear stained cheeks and a runny nose is all that Nat can see of your face. Her heart breaks a little bit every time she sees you cry.
Her tender voice is the first thing you hear.
“Oh detka…”
Nat drifts by your side and pulls the covers down. She wipes your tears with a kiss planted on both of your cheeks. You want to say something, anything, but the struggle of forming the words you want feels way too severe to do so. All you can do is to lean into her touch. You have been struggling for the past few days. Your mental health has been on a steady decline and today was your breaking point.
“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Nat moves over to lie in bed with you. She moves your head so that you are in her lap. This position is one you have done many times for each other. It has become an unspoken gesture of love, stability, and trust. Many nights the two of you have stayed up like this. Anywhere from talking about your hopes and dreams to reassuring each other about nightmares. This position automatically gives you a sense of being secure.
A few beats go by with just silence. Natasha never forces you to talk or explain. All she ever wants to do is to allow you to feel that you are not alone.
“I didn’t want to stress you…”
If Nat didn’t have almost superhuman hearing, she would have missed it. The redhead lets out a steady breath.
“Honey, you know that you’re the most important thing in my life. Not my job, not even Lhio…don’t tell her I said that.”
You smack her arm playfully as she smirks.
“Seriously though, your wellbeing is the only thing that matters to me. You are the only person that has ever made me feel this way.” She caresses your cheek as she looks into your eyes. The only thing you can see is pure love.
“I’m yours and only yours, my love.” She smiles softly as she plants kisses all over your face.
“Tasha!” You squeal as she flips herself over to be completely on top of you. Her hands connect with yours as she interlaces your fingers and pins your arms down. She continues to pepper your face with kisses as she announces all the things she loves about you.
“You are the smartest, most talented, and absolutely the easiest person to get to love. I never want you to doubt that you are loved by so many people who have the pleasure of getting to know you. You are a light in this world. I will say this until my last breath, you understand me? I know that your brain doesn’t let you see that sometimes. I know that you may feel broken and unfixable, but you're not. You are the strongest person I know, baby. Never doubt that. I love you forever.”
You’ve never seen her so passionate about her feelings so knowing that she got this passionate over loving you makes you tear up. Knowing that you have someone who loves you unconditionally makes your heart soar. The pair of you shared a few kisses and gentle touches. You spent the rest of your day in bed enjoying each other's company. You may not be okay now, but with her, you will be.
#natasha romanoff x reader#sapphicdaya#natasha romanoff#mcu#marvel fic#natasha romanov#natasha x reader#natasha#natasha romanoff x reader fluff#wlw and nblw#sapphic fic#sapphic fanfic#marvel x reader#mcu natasha romanoff#natasha romaonff angst
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