Miss Impeccable Taste In Fic

I’m 20!!

[sleepiereblogs]

I’m sleepie! I have two other accounts, my main (@sleepiestxx) and my fic writing acc (@sleepiexx).

This is going to be my fic reblogs acc where I can support other fic writers by reblogging and not having to worry about ruining my account layout! If I reblogged a post of yours, you’re doing great and I love your stuff :)

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 20: Final

wordcount: 9,860

(Sorry babes I'm like that toxic ex that comes back in ur life and gives you hope just to ghost you 💔👻 BTW no this is not 'final. Series is done' there is a Scream 5&6 I'm combining but this is the final for 4.)

—————————————

   You laid in bed with your own thoughts. you REFUSED to sleep at night in this damn hospital after what happened last time. Getting startled in your half-sleep state was common. Even by Karla knocking on the door and Mindy and Chad barreling in during the late afternoon while you had almost dozed off.

“Hey! She's hurt you two.” Karla scolded harsher then she usually did as Mindy almost tried jumping on your hospital bed and reluctantly stayed to the side. “We brought your purse that was in Randy's car. Oh, and your suitcase from the house.” She offered as she sat both down on the floor near a hospital chair.

“Oh…Thank you.” You murmured sitting up to look at her in a tired voice. Then casted your gaze to look down at the two bright eyed innocent kids staring up at you.

…You couldn't help staring at them and wanting to cry. Seeing Randy's lopsided smile and curious eyes in Chad and seeing his personality and sharp tongue in Mindy. You felt your throat tighten seeing them all dressed up. Karla in a black dress shirt and pants…Already knowing where they had been today.

Mindy and Chad asked you so many questions and you realized you had just been blankly staring at them with tears in your eyes.

Especially when Mindy just bluntly said, “Our Daddy died. We buried him today.”

As if you didn't already know.

You swallowed hard and furiously nodded, “I-I know honey. I'm so, so sorry.”

The guilt from just looking at them. How in the Hell could you see them knowing their Dad died because you got careless? Because of a stupid choice you made to go talk to those two in that barn and separate from Randy…That his final wish was you to stay far away from him and his family...How can you live with it?

Both 6 year olds looked sad, confused and concerned. This had to be so hard for them to fully process.

Karla, with a tight smile, talked a bit softer this time as she told them, “Here. Go to that vending machine down the hall where I can see you. No further.”

They took the money and nodded; running off as Karla tiredly sat in a chair near the door to watch them before asking you, “How ya feelin’, YN?”

“Better I guess. Not as sick. I…Should be asking you that.” You spoke barely above a whisper and tried not to cry. “I'm so sorry I missed Randy's funeral today. I-”

“No, not at all. Please, YN. Don't think like that. You can barely get out of bed.” She gave you a remorseful look. “I just- Shit. I should've known. I mean, you meet a man at a survivors meeting for victims of serial killers and think your life will be normal?” She wryly smirked and shook her head all before it faded. She looked at you with her own guilt. “YN…I didn't know you were kidnapped by those men when I called. I'm sorry, I should've known or helped or something. I could've accidentally got you killed! I-”

“No.” You interrupted her. “It's alright, I didn't speak in code or anything and…I'm okay.”

You hated being vague but she couldn't know. No one could. Dewey and Gale were a nightmare enough to deal with.

Karla watched her kids before leaning closer to whisper, “YN…Are you sure you're okay? They…They didn't? They didn't force you or…” She trailed off her question with immense worry on her face.

You stared before quickly shaking your head, “Oh no! No, nothing like that um…I don't know why they gave me up other than, uh, fear of being caught?”

You swore the way she looked at you was skeptical but maybe that was just your paranoia?

She exhaled, averting her eyes as something was clearly on her overworked mind before she just forced it out. “I gotta know...What happened?”

Your chest ached and stomach turned at her question. You already knew she'd ask. You almost hated talking to her because of it.

“Karla, I…” You faltered. Could you completely lie to her?

“Please.” She grasped your hand. A pleading gaze thrown your way with tears in her red rimmed eyes. “It makes no sense for Randy to split up. He wouldn't leave you alone, he wouldn't be in a parking lot of cars in a dark field by himself, he shouldn't have even been at that party…Why? Please YN, why? Dewey won't tell me anything and Gale…She's saying crazy things. I deserve to fuckin’ know as his damn wife, do I not?!”

“Crazy?” You repeated with a tense look at her hand clasped over yours.

“Talkin’ all kinds of craziness like you…Ya know. Like you know the whole story and you're…” She trailed off swallowing as her gaze wavered. “Not tellin’ it all or something.”

You frowned. “Gale's wrong. Whatever she said is just her hounding for more fame the older she gets…I had nothing to do with anything. NOTHING. I would never.” You couldn't even finish getting too devastated and angry to speak. That Gale, that dumb bitch, might be telling Karla YOU ACTUALLY could've killed Randy. That you murdered your best friend...It made your blood boil; Made your heart monitor rise a little too.

“Shh, I know.” She affirmed in a hushed tone at hearing your beeping heart monitor rising. “I just…I'm frustrated that no one has answers.”

Truly she was the only friend you had left, and yet, you had to lie through your teeth to her.

She continued in a whisper, “I also know you were his friend and you were together before he died. Please. If you know anything…Something.”

You stared at her for a moment before sighing, “...We went to the party cause we heard a noise at your house and figured we should be trying to catch the killer rather than wait…We did split at the party…We had…An argument-” Tears tried burning your gaze as you blinked up at the ceiling.

Karla looked both equal parts sympathetic yet urgently curious. “About?”

Your frown deepened as you tried to not let your lower lip wobble.

“YN, please. Not a single thing about any of this makes any damn sense. Where are those guys? Why is Dewey avoiding everyone? Why did they take you? How were you and Jill attacked at the hospital?...Please, what did you and my husband argue over?” Her voice grew more firm. Unrelenting in her pursuit for the truth about why she was now a widow.

Your voice failed you especially as you saw her crying as well. She quickly wiped her tears and you did the same as the kids came back and Chad slid you a candy bar. “Here, so you feel better.” He told you in his tiny voice. His eyes, despite being Karla's color, were Randy's round observant eyes to a Tee.

"I picked it out!" Mindy chimed in.

"Did not!" Chad scoffed.

"Did too!"

Karla quieted their petty bickering as a wry chuckle bubbled on you at their carefree issues they focused on at 6.

You forced a smile. You didn't have the heart to tell them you were so sick that even hospital food tore your stomach up on these heavy antibiotics. Let alone a candy bar. No you'd just hold onto it. “Thank you. I just ate but I promise I'll eat it later and think of you two being so thoughtful!”

You kept that forced a smile and also forced your voice to be sweet. But on the inside; You felt…Like a stranger. You felt like an outsider. Everytime you looked at these kids it was painful. You knew Karla would not rest till she knew what you and Randy argued about and you couldn't tell her. You just couldn't tell Karla and it ate you up inside. She was going through it. Husband dead, two kids, a bank teller job she didn't make enough on to really afford anything now that she was a single income household.

Mindy and Chad yapped away while you looked at Karla who dabbed her eyes. She looked ready to go step into the hallway or bathroom to collect herself but she had more stress on her shoulders than you felt she deserved.

There was only one thing you could do. You were 32 with no kids and in the lifestyle you had; it would be selfish to bring any into this. You had your home, you had passive income from ‘Out of Darkness’...And who were you kidding? Who needed retirement if Ghostface would kill you? You'll be lucky to make it to 60...After all, Randy made it to 32 almost 33 and still didn't make it.

“...Mindy? Can you get in my purse?” You asked her as she paused to hear your request before obediently getting it with an eager ‘Yes!’.

In all the chaos; you forgot it. Hell, you wouldn't have had your phone had it not been in your pocket that night. “Careful, too heavy. Your Godmother has too much stuff in there... Thank you.” You joked as you helped her lift it over the bed with what little strength you had right now.

All three of them curiously watched you get in your checkbook and get out a pen.

Mindy and Chad watched while Karla looked perplexed before she mumbled, “What are you?...” Then dumbfounded as you wrote a check and handed it to her. “What is this-” Her voice trailed off and eyes widened to saucers as she saw the amount.

“A check. Pay for the funeral cost, live on it, I suggest moving the fu-”

Chad and Mindy gasped. Mindy pointed, “Aw, you swore!”

You couldn't help a snort like chuckle that hurt your stitched up stomach. “Ugh, sorry. Moving from Woodsboro.” All before seriously looking at Karla. “And if you stay then…Use it to get the best security system known to man.”

Karla was floored at the amount of 0's you wrote. “YN! There is no way I'm accepting this!”

“Karllaa,” You drew her name out in light scolding. “Take it. Put your pride aside and think of these two…You don't owe me anything. I'm the one that owes you.” You sighed at the last part.

She gave you an odd look, “Whaddya mean?”

“...Nothing. Survivors' guilt, I guess....”

She tried shoving the check back at you, “YN, you don't owe me for living! Randy would never accept this from you and neither am I!” She went to rip it.

“Karla!” You forced out firmly. “Use it for his funeral, use it for groceries, damn it, think of your kids! Just because Randy was stubborn doesn't mean you have to be.”

She faltered, her fingers on the check as she gazed down at the twins. Her eyes softened just looking at her children she and Randy brought into this world together. They stared up at her, their only source of comfort and protection now.

“Please…It's all I can give you. It's the only way I know how to make this right. I promise, that isn't going to break me. I have plenty to live off of.” You gave a tight smile while trying to reassure her.

This was the only thing you had. If you couldn't bring Randy back then you'd at least take care of his family. He's probably rolling in his grave cussing you out right now for this but all well. If you couldn't tell her the truth then this was the least you could do.

“YN…” Fresh tears of a different kind tried springing to her eyes. “I-I…I don't know what to say but…Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you as she hugged you. Leaning over to give a friendly hug to show how grateful she really was under her pride to not accept it at first. A small smile graced your lips as you soaked it in.

The kids watched and as you released her. You patted the bed offering them to sit on either side of you. Karla helped them as you looked between them. “I don't know how often I'll see you two after this.”

“But why?” Mindy urged.

“Yeah, why?” Chad begged even more. Eyes looking extremely sad and it tugged at your heart.

“Well…” You pondered what to say. “I just have a lot to think about. And you guys do too…And after all this I have to be very careful coming back to Woodsboro.”

Mindy frowned, “I heard people saying people die when you're here…”

“Mindy.” Karla scolded.

“No, no they do say that. I don't know if that's true or not but I can't risk it.” You sighed out ruefully.

Chad's eyes looked so scared, “So we'll never see you again?”

“Oh…Oh no, no. I'll try. Maybe when things settle down you can visit or I'll visit but…I need to go home and recover and figure things out.” You offered him a small smile.

He took this even harder than Mindy as he bribed you. “You can sleep at our house! You can have my bed!”

You gave a sad smile as you hugged him close and rubbed his back. Keeping one arm around Mindy as well.

You couldn't risk it. Not with Dewey, Gale, Jill…And besides that, even if Randy didn't mean it, he still told you to never see his family again. It felt like a direct spit on his grave if you came around every holiday or god forbid lived with them. It would also put them in danger of Jill or Billy and Stu or anyone else…Besides, the guilt would be astronomical and you knew if Karla knew the truth; she'd tell you the same thing Randy did if not worse.

“No, I need to go home. We'll figure this out somehow. Just know that I loved your Dad, I love your Mommy and I love both of you…We'll be together soon I just need time to think.”

It hurt. It hurt so goddamn bad. But they were in kindergarten. They'd move on, forget about you the more you space out visits and phone calls and soon you'd be like some distant family friend they forget for their own safety.

You just sat on that bed comforting them as Karla watched. Just soaking in this normal human warmth and contact. This motherhood you'd never get to experience. This family you'd never have of your own…Maybe if Mark would've lived; you'd have some kids of your own? Just imagining him as you remembered him. Some domestic normal fantasy of him smiling at you in the morning making pancakes with a daughter or son in the morning…But it faded to reality just as quickly. Of Ghostface storming in and Mark going for his gun and the kids screaming…That was reality. Domestic bliss was never for you. Fate had other plans.

At least you had the peace of mind that Randy's death wouldn't be in vain. He didn't have to work his ass off anymore and Karla didn't have to either for quite some time. They could rest. Something they needed after losing a husband and father.

———————————

Days went by. Jill was out of the hospital and already doing interviews on tv. You just turned the channel every time.

Everyday, Karla and the kids visited you and you were both grateful yet…Sad. It made things harder. And only one day went by of her not prying; you could tell it was eating at her. Why wouldn't it? Her best friend and husband she loved made her a widow over a secret argument that split you and him up while a killer was on the loose and you couldn't tell her what it was about. You prayed she didn't think it was an affair or something outrageous especially since you and Randy dated for a hot minute years ago.

You finally had to lie poorly and say it was stress over this killer and things got said that you shouldn't have that neither of you meant. Blaming each other in the heat of it all…Not a complete lie but a piss poor one that made you feel like shit for telling it. You swore one day you would just start hallucinating and see his ghost mocking you or something…

She bought it, comforting you that whatever he said, he didn't mean…But if only she knew. None of it made you feel any better.

And what made you feel worse, was besides the media trying to sneak in or Gale trying to act friendly like you were an idiot thinking she didn't have on a damn wire…But that Dewey didn't visit you. Not even once.

It went from heartache to bitter anger that he wasn't willing to talk. To hear you out without Gale present. To not ask his own questions…But then again, maybe you couldn't trust him anymore anyways?

You even played with Sidney's locket you had in your suitcase Karla brought and suddenly it felt empty too. Somehow in your mind, you had clung onto hope that her and Tatum would forgive you and understand the position you had been forced into for years but with Randy and Dewey's reactions…You weren't sure now. You weren't sure this locket that now felt like any other teen short lived friendship instead of a beacon of hope wasn't just…A thing. Just a thing that the person that died had gave to you and that the person wouldn't hate your guts or act like you don't exist if she was still around.

You sighed, hanging your head with the locket in your grasp…

You knew on that video that piece of shit Charlie had; was a recording of Randy begging for his life and not only for his kids and wife's lives but yours as well. It hurt so much worse than if he would've hated you to the very end. And yet, you couldn't be sure. Would he try to forgive you somehow? Rally against you and say fuck Dewey and Gale?... Or would his reaction be like Gale and Dewey? Agree with them even?

And yet, something in you screamed he may have been angry but eventually would have attempted to be a Mark and help you catch Billy and Stu and get therapy or something. At least you hoped. Another part of you said with his family now; he would've told you to stay away. Dewey couldn't look past his grief of Tatum and the betrayal of you lying. Gale was just an enemy in disguise from day one. The one friend who could possibly have forgiven your sins was dead and his wife and kids were reminders.

You got off your hospital bed and now dressed in comfortable clothes…It was time to leave. Well, actually it wasn't but it had been a week in here and you were ready the second they switched to oral antibiotics. You were both scared yet relieved. Tired of expecting cops to bust in your hospital room to book you or Jill to finish off as a loose end. You swore she tried but to your relief, it seemed despite his reluctance to see you; Dewey and now Judy were not taking chances after last time. Your room was monitored round the clock.

Sooner you leave to go to your secure home in the woods away from everyone, the better…Even if it is lonely.

“Do you need a car called for you?” The receptionist asked.

“No, I'm just going to the nearest bus station. Thank you.” You mumbled. Not sure who to trust.

So here you were, recovering but healed mostly, and lugging a suitcase on wheels behind you on the sidewalk. Thankfully, even if some recognized you, they were too hung up on Jill as you tried to avoid everyone. Frowning deeply at the bookstore you passed with a permanent closed sign. Passing all the changed buildings from when you had lived here in '96…You'd give anything to go back to being that 17 year old YN in the 90's.

You walked until you almost got on the outskirts of town, then settled. Getting out your phone…Karla knew where you lived…Maybe just this one time? Maybe have dinner and-

You looked up feeling watched. And you instantly scowled…That little bitch.

You just knew it was her. You tsked and hauled your suitcase up the best you could; subtly getting your knife that had been in your purse transferred to the inside of your boot lining. You stooped down to ‘pick up’ something and shoved the knife inside your jacket's sleeve.

As you got near the cemetery at the edge of town, you felt a presence as if someone was right behind you and whipped around.

“You wanna finish it? Do it!” You snapped. Tense and ready to fight that stupid cunt once again, and this time, you'd risk prison if it meant she was dead after everything she did.

“Oh, I wanna finish alright. But if I do it, you'll yell at me.”

You blinked at the voice before seeing Stu near a tree in garb he'd normally not wear to disguise himself.

“...Stu?” You gasped out and he shhed you harshly.

“Babe. We have been over this for 15 years. Stop name dropping in public.”

You looked around and got closer to whisper to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. It's been a week. Too risky to call you.” He nonchalantly gave. “Ready to leave?”

“Um…Yeah but?-”

He grinned, “C'mon. Asshole is nearby. We'll take you home. I got on better meds at a hospital for a few days and we're both fine just waiting on you, Sweetcheeks.”

You eyed him skeptically.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, that hurts. And after our moment? Tsk.”

“...No thank you.” And kept lugging your suitcase.

“No??” He looked dumbfounded and folded his arms. “So you're gonna huff it on foot clear back to your cabin an hour away, huh?”

“I'll figure something out. Just stay away from me.”

“Ouch.” I scoffed.

“I'm serious!” You hissed out picking up speed. “If Jill or Dewey or Gale or Judy sees you with me, you idiot, we're both fucked. Go!” You grumbled as you nervously looked around.

He sighed heavily. “Fine. Have it your way.” And to your immense relief he walked away. You let out a sigh of relief and kept walking away. You'd get Karla or a car to the nearest town or rent one or something.

You huffed to yourself trying to drag your suitcase too heavy to constantly carry across the sidewalk. You knew this was being stubborn but after so many have attacked you…How were you going to just be like ‘Oh yes! I am a suspect that was dropped from multiple cases and yes the internet thinks I did it and yep of course you random person can have directions to my secret location where I live!’

What fucking choices did you have?

You panted and took a break. Your infection is mostly gone but you were still weak, woozy and short of breath. You looked up seeing the street you were near and decided to take it.

Damn…What a blast from the past. Your mind tried remembering the houses and shrubs from late September to Early October 1996. Teens walking everywhere talking with backpacks. 90's fashion and older more reliable vehicles on the roads. You passed the streets that were familiar yet foreign now. And finally you got to an area where Billy had jumped out at you as a teen. The bushes there were gone now…You got to your old house and not a single bit of it was the same at all yet you recognized it. It was your home for only a little over a year but you still remembered walking through the front door, saying hi to your cat, getting on your house phone to talk to Sidney or Tatum, going upstairs to listen to cassettes and do homework…Damn…God what you wouldn't give for a time machine. And you asked yourself as you stared…Would you have let Gale kill Billy? Would you have let Sidney kill Stu or kill him yourself? A decade ago; fuck yes you would even with Stu visiting you. After their help this time…You weren't sure.

You saw people staring in their yards and forced yourself to keep walking. If they didn't know you from the massacre of '96 and Stab; they'd probably think you were a burglar staking out a place or a drifter or something. Your stitches still hurt but they were manageable. You still felt sick but it was like a mild belly ache and fatigue.

You should've never come back. Period. You should've never convinced Billy and Stu to return. You and Randy should've fled town that night instead of going to that party; let Kirby and Jill and all those teens that died anyways figure it out. Why the fuck did you always have to be the hero just to get tossed aside after? Like some service dog forced back outside once its job is done…You felt so defeated. What good did you do this time? Jill got away with it, Randy's dead, you have to lie to his family, Dewey can't stand to look at you, Gale is just a bitch as usual but you put your pride aside to give her the benefit of the doubt and look...And now, all you had was Billy and Stu. Unbelievable.

You got on the outskirts of town near the ‘Leaving Woodsboro Sign’ same as the one on the highway the opposite way and…Your handle on your suitcase broke with everything tumbling out as the zipper busted.

“Fuuucckkk…No, please no-” You groaned pitifully and you tried getting on your knees to put everything back. Hissing in pain at all your injuries and as you tried putting it back and it didn't fit and…And…

You just collapsed on the ground on your rear and couldn't hold back tears. What the fuck did you do to deserve this life? WHAT!? Just the wrong friend group as a teen? Being nice to two guys that didn't deserve that kindness? A stupid teen crush or two that went horribly wrong? Trying to do the right thing-

You quietly sobbed in your hands, shoulders heaving each tiny cry. You didn't care who saw. You didn't even care if Jill came up behind you and finished the job. Hell, Stu and Billy might. Even if you and Stu kissed; he had a fucked up logic and way about him. He'll even admit it.

Instead, you just sat there. Done crying after a few moments with your face in your arms propped on your knees, knees to your chest. Just shutting the world out. About to suck up your pride and shove caution to the wind and call Karla that; yes you passed her house on purpose but you couldn't do this alone...

You didn't know how long you sat there till you heard brakes squeaking, creeping to a halt in front of you. You sighed heavily and looked up seeing Billy and the van.

“You getting in or what? We don't have all day.” His even toned voice rang out.

You narrowed your eyes and looked away. “I'm fine.”

“Really? Cause you look like you're two seconds away from a mental breakdown.” He mumbled.

“I'll…I'll get Karla.” You gave quietly.

“Yeah, you could… And let her pester you the whole way on what you know about Meek Geeks Death or risk her life or something with that bitch on the loose…Get the fuck in here before someone sees, idiot.”

You stubbornly hesitated. But damn it, he was right. An hour ride with Karla would be filled with awkward guilt and ‘the talk’ of Randy because no matter how much you rehearsed it; she was upset and guilt ridden and just going over it like clockwork. You understood even if it was bad for you to keep explaining half truths and lies. You knew it. If the kids were there, it may buffer but…

Billy added, “You know we gotta talk anyways about all this. You owe us that.”

You glared. There it was. This ‘owing’ thing they constantly claimed. They act nice and there it was…But, what choices were there?

“...Fine.” You grumbled like you were 18 again and hauled your suitcase the best you could as Stu opened the sliding van door. You got in and closed your eyes leaning back in the seat. “Please…Just take me home. Same cabin as before.”

———————————

The whole ride was awkward silence but more comfortable than what it would've been with Karla's rehearsal of what happened to Randy.

Stu tried to make conversation every so often but you tiredly ignored them. Talking only to stop and order at a drive thru. You swore, Stu was bionic or on some DAMN good pain relievers as injured as he had been and he still leaned over Billy's driver seat saying, “Hey yo, gimme a number 5-”

You couldn't help it. You stifled a rueful smile at the enraged look on Billy's  mug at Stu just laying over him and his ass almost in his face. Billy raised his fist to hit it and Stu told him mid order, “Smacking a guy's ass is gay, man.”

Billy sneered at him and jerked him back to his seat by his shirt instead. Stu made some snide remark about pulling off clothes; Purposely moaning to make it gay just to embarrass his former partner in crime. You looked away rolling your lips to not smile. Yeah, you were wallowing but it felt like a necessary guarding of your mental health right now.

You ate your simple order, took your pills for the day, made small talk about how they treated you in the hospital when finally Billy just blurted out the elephant in the room.

“...What did Jill tell you?”

You sighed and told him as you all drove, “She was waiting on me when I woke up. Whispered to me what to say. We both described you as having dark hair, blue eyes and a hooked nose and Stu as reddish hair, tooth gap, dragon tattoo on the right shoulder.”

“Aw man.” Stu scoffed. “Now what if I wanted a dragon tattoo there?”

“Too bad.” You shrugged.

“Hmph.” He huffed, “You couldn't make me Asian and 5’8 or something?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “They saw us on Camera, douchenozzle.”

“Exactly. We had to make you guys close but not quite. Just enough to give you both time…We're lucky as fuck Jill was cornered somehow and was willing to cooperate.” You wanted to yell at them for making a risky choice for you that could've got you arrested or killed but held back.

“She try anything?” Stu asked suddenly with a more serious tone.

“Oooh sure.” You smirked wryly. “Unlucky for her, I was awake at night and Dewey had cops outside my door at all times.”

“Yeah, probably to make sure you didn't flee.” Billy mumbled.

You faltered and grew silent. A part of you really hoped it was protection...But...

“...Yeah…Yeah probably.” You quietly agreed. “Can we make a stop? I gotta pick up something.”

—————————————

It was the longest talk of your life you had to cut short with your family but their house was on the way to yours anyhow. They grilled you for not letting them know you were in the hospital or answering your phone right away once you were safe. You just used their safety as a half truth. You lied and said Billy was a friend taking you back and cut off questioning before they really dug in. Hugs, condolences on Randy, fear, them believing Jill's lies, anger at you, sadness but relief. You promised you loved them and you'd talk to them more. It was the type of love you give to family just because they're family but at this point any contact was better than absolutely zero options. And love was love even if it wasn't chosen.

And they did watch Cherri as your elderly Golden Retriever sat in the backseat while Stu tried loving on her, “Hheeyyyy, old lady, how's my favorite girl?...Hey…Cherri!…Hey, dog-” He snapped his fingers and she huffed and rolled over to ignore him. “Well fine, guess I'll see you from your 15th nap today, you old bitty.” He playfully grumbled in disappointment only remembering her at about 3 or 4 years old not 13 with cataracts and lighter aged fur. You smiled and petted her as she snored. Thank God for her.

“Think cops could be here?” Billy asked as he drove up the hill to your house way off the beaten path.

You shook your head and replied, “No. If they were gonna arrest me, they would've done it in Woodsboro or on the way here…Place might be staked out though. Like, Media in the woods.”

“Maybe I should take off my pants near the woods and give them a show?” Stu gave a sly smirk and you rolled your lips to not grin.

“They see plenty of twigs and berries out there.” Billy mumbled. “I think they'll ignore it.”

“Hey-” Stu scoffed, “Fuck you, man. I have a log down here, alright? They'd probably be overwhelmed by the sheer size of my manhood.”

“Manhood? The Hell is this? Some Erotic novel on your mom's bookshelf?” Billy huffed mockingly with a bewildered expression.

You shook your head in amusement as he drove up the mountainside to your secluded residency. A few neighbors but far and few in-between. Was it lonely? Yeah. But it was also peaceful. You learned a long time ago you'd rather be alone than be surrounded by people that make you feel alone.

“So…” Billy pulled up to your cabin. There was a weird silence among you. The curves, dense forest, your unchanged cabin are the only comforting sights these last few days. “...That's it?”

You nodded solemnly, taking a breath to reply. “Yeah…Yeah, it is.” You shakily sighed, “She won.”

“...YN, that's bullshit.” Billy uncomfortably mumbled.

“No, she did. She fucking won and that's that.” You scoffed with a humorless laugh. “She took everything from me. My best friend, my freedom, my life, my career, my sanity. How can any of it be the same now? No more Randy…Can't even see his kids without immense guilt.” You sniffed trying to keep yourself neutral as you looked down while talking. “Always gonna be looking over my shoulder, always scared I'll get a knock on my door from FBI or a news article of me being a suspect, can never go to Woodsboro or see Randy's family again even if I wanted to…My Grandma is buried there for fucksake and I can't even visit her grave. Not really.”

Stu frowned in the front seat and Billy looked at you with his mirror.

“I know I know. Preaching to the choir with your lives but you made a choice and…Oh fuck. So did I. Unlike you two, I just thought it was the right choice. It wasn't, obviously.” You wryly huffed with a smirk and wrung your shirts hem as you kept going, “The one person, Dewey...Okay, the one person who should have my back?…Told me to not come back and won't even talk to me. I understand why but…I did all this for him and Randy. If they weren't a thing? I would've left Woodsboro the second a murder was announced. And look-” You shrugged with a heavy sigh. “I fought for them and it kicked me in the ass, tossed me on the ground and spit on my face while I'm down there too. Jill destroyed everyone's lives, made everyone else comply, got treated like the victim, is gonna be set for life and the people that should believe me; don't…She won.” You quietly ended your rant with a shaky tone.

“Man, screw that and screw her.” Stu grumbled. “We'll get her.”

“You can't.” You firmly told him dabbing your eyes to not accidentally cry in front of them. “She's gonna be heavily guarded and prepared. Especially from you two…She won.”

“She didn't.” Stu firmly gave with a glare. “Okay, I refuse to be outsmarted by a teenage bitch like her!”

“Why? You guys were once-”

“Har Har, YN. Because we were teens…” Stu made a face and waved it off. “We're grown men now. Advanced. Okay, we have years under our belt compared to that prissy ass thing…We'll get her. She'll slip up and BAM-!” He smacked his hands then grimaced at his injuries.

Billy rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, count me out of it.”

“Seriously? Pussy.” Stu scoffed.

“Look, dickhead.” He growled out with his own glare at Stu. “For the first time in a long time; we may be off the hook. I'm not going to prison or death row because some little twat wanted to put on the mask. I'd LOVE to kill her and that entire fucking bloodline…But it's over.”

You stayed silent as they bickered before Stu huffed and fell back in his seat muttering cowardly diverted insults. You frowned and went to lug your suitcase out and despite your best efforts a bit of pain hit you where Jill cut you and your stuff fell all over the yard. You smacked your hands against your thighs and didn't see Stu giving Billy a look and Billy rolling his eyes as they both got out to help. Cherri groaned, getting her old joints moving and wagging her tail at being home.

Stu and Billy helped and you reluctantly mumbled, “Thanks…Can you?-” You gestured to the suitcase as you lightened it by holding some of your stuff.

“Yeah of course.“ Stu had replied carrying the mostly empty busted suitcase eagerly to your house.

You looked back at Billy, “You might as well come in.”

“Oh…” He had his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I don't think that's exactly great. Uh…Considering everything.”

“Well, can you at least bring my purse in?”

Billy rolled his eyes, “What am I, you're damn Butler?” He grumbled under his breath still walking like an old man with being cut horizontally over his abdomen and shot in his leg.

Cherri just moseyed around the yard with its fence as you all went inside.

“Jesus YN, do you ever want a change of scenery??” Billy mocked as everything was the exact same as it was in 2001.

You shrugged, “Hey, I've been busy the last few years. And no. I like my quaint home.”

Stu mumbled as he gingerly sat down the suitcase with a groan, “Who are you to talk? You had 80's paneling and shag carpeting in your trailer.”

“Oh fuck off.” Billy tossed your purse and started going to the door. “It housed your ass just fine-”

They both bickered as usual as you sat everything down and your heart sank seeing Sidney's locket but more so seeing your answering machine…You hesitantly clicked it and closed your eyes. Swallowing hard as Randy's voice played. “Hey YN, um I can't get ahold of your cell so maybe you're book signing or-”

You almost zoned out hearing his voice. Your eyes burned and watered and your lips trembled. Frowning to force yourself not to cry.

…Stu and Billy heard it and faltered their petty bickering back and forth. Billy steeled a neutral stare at your back while Stu looked a mix curious and concerned as your shoulders tensed and you looked down at Sidney's locket sitting on a pile of clothes. They both knew it was her's. “...That fucking cunt.” You gave low in your throat. They both looked surprised when you tossed it aside. “FUCK her!”

They looked confused thinking you meant Sidney until you ranted, “Jill Roberts. That bitch…That fucking-” Your hands were tight fist at your sides.

Stu looked more than understanding. Mildly glaring while Billy looked away.

You sucked in air and then finally said it, “...You're right, Stu. She's not getting away with this.” You shook your head and angrily started unpacking your things. “She isn't getting away with killing my friend and ruining my life! What life I had!” Jerking Sidney's locket from where it landed. It wasn't just a necklace yet it also didn't hold the weight it once did upon you.

Stu smirked, “Hell yeah.” He softly agreed at your declaration.

“Tsk. Yeah well-” Billy went to leave. “Good luck with that.”

“Wait.”

Billy stopped and raised a brow. Curiosity got the better of him as you swallowed and tried to find the words. Your pride and past regret and hurt and anger warring with each other. But right now, justified rage and contempt for the latest Ghostface won out.

“...I need you. I need both of you.” You forced out.

“Yeah yeah, we're your body guards or killers depending-”

“No!” You cut Billy's cynicism off. “No, I need you and you need me. We all 3 need each other. Now more than ever.”

Stu's eyes widened. “...What are you saying?”

You sucked in a breath. After all this? Priorities changed. Now that you weren't in Woodsboro or under threat. Now that it was settling in. Now that you heard Randy's voice knowing it was the last…Suddenly, Tatum and Sidney felt like distant memories. Suddenly, past wounds felt temporarily sealed with a good metaphorical bandaid. Now all the sudden, you had no one but them and the pros outweigh the cons.

“I am saying…” You paused a beat to ponder your next statement as bitter tears had ran down your cheeks, “That Jill doing this has us completely looped together now. Think about it. We gave vague descriptions but they could still match up. They could find your fingerprints at the crime scene. Your blood. Your hair or clothing fibers. I bought you both time; not safety. And me? I'll never be safe. Jill is coming for me one day; she made that pretty fucking clear.”

“So?” Billy shrugged and tried looking aloof but you knew better. Could see it in the way he didn't look at you. “We'll go into hiding and deal with it when the time comes. Like we always have.”

“Yeah…” You shook your head. “But I don't want to. I almost died. Once from being gutted and again from sepsis. I laid on that kitchen floor in my own blood holding onto you thinking that was it.”

Stu frowned but said nothing and Billy glared at the floor.

You continued, “Why? Why are we living far away in hiding and trying to get ahold of each other halfway through the murders when it's pretty much too late? These fucking Ghostface are not going to stop.”

Billy huffed and smirked wryly, “Cause of us right?-”

“We're past that.” You sternly cut him off. A fire in you that you hadn't had in a long time.

He looked with widened eyes at you. It was no secret you usually blamed them and yes, they did horrible things and started all of this. But right now? Jill took the whole damn cake.

“Jill made an enemy of all of us. She heavily injured us, got your faces on camera, got your DNA at the crime scene, may know your van now, made me as much of an outlaw as you two as far as ever even attempting to relax or have normalcy!…" You ranted with pure emotion. "And she ruined my friendship and killed the other. Fuck that bitch. She's gonna pay.”

Adrenaline pumping just thinking about what you wanted to do to her. Thinking back to the last Ghostface that tried you after tragedy. How you stabbed that wannabe star so many times it shocked everyone; even you.

“God you're even hotter now.” Stu mumbled in awe. Zero filter.

Billy rolled his eyes and pinched his nose bridge. “So what? You want us to be…What!? Fucking cool with each other or something-”

“I want that bitch dead, Billy.”

Billy's eyes widened a fraction more and his mouth parted while Stu grinned in wide eyed excitement.

You continued and held your stare, “She'll fuck up. One day, she is going to fuck up. Majorly. She'll get paranoid that we're after her or she'll get paranoid I'll talk. Or maybe she'll just get bored and crave that itch again because NO ONE kills their entire friend group and first boyfriend and their own mother just for ambition. She loves the hunt, she loves the kill, she'll get cocky…And when she does? I want to hang her and have her bleeding out of a fucking tree.”

“Fuucckk, I'm so hard right now.” Stu groaned loud enough to interrupt your train of thought.

You blinked, your anger momentarily halted by…Whatever that interruption was as Stu grinned like a kid in a candy store at you. He came towards you, “Sweetcheeks…Baby…You might as well be proposing to me. I am down. So, so down. I say we hunt her and-”

You put up a hand, “No." You halted his train of thought. "Not right now, anyways. Too much publicity.” You looked at him then Billy. “What I am saying is…We all need to stay in contact. We need to stick together even just texting…We just can't separate and let her one day pick us off. It's not enough to keep our promise to get any Ghostface's after Neil and Roman. She's got too good of a handle on this and we are fucking prey. You two are prey now just as much as Neil made all 3 of us sitting ducks back then. Only this time, there is no definitive answer.”

Stu grinned even wider, “You mean…Like, calling? Texting? Hanging out?”

You faltered…Was that what you were saying? Not exactly but…In a way…

“Okay, this has been a real fun time.” Billy waved you both off. “And by fun I mean pain in the ass. But if you two think I'm being chummy? You're both nuts! I have tried to kill you both plenty of times and after Stu punched me and you have been avoiding my kill list for years; I want to stab your faces more.” He mockingly smirked. “So fuck you both. Don't call me unless a new threat happens DIRECTLY to me-” He grunted and fell on his ass as a wet Golden Retriever barreled him over in the doorway. Rain pouring outside and just getting so much so that it was a white out.

He groaned in pain at his injuries as he fell and Cherri to add insult to injury shook off water on him, “You stupid mutt-” He grumbled going to shove her away as she left; old and oblivious to him.

Stu just stood there snickering while you went to help him up. He didn't accept your hand at first but had to when he hissed in pain through his teeth.

“Sorry. She's very demanding in her older years.” You sheepishly gave.

“Rain. What is it with rain whenever I'm near you??” He grumbled clutching his still bandaged stomach.

You shrugged, “It's almost winter. And we're elevated land. We get a lot of rain.”

“Maybe God cries every time he sees your face?” Stu mumbled in mock innocence.

Billy whipped his head to glare and you gave Stu a look but thankfully he groaned and led Cherri to the bathroom to towel dry her. Everything the same as the last time he was here. Well, mostly.

“...You might as well stay. You can't drive in this.” You offered softly.

He sided eyed you, “What is wrong with you? Why are you being nice, huh? I killed your friends, your Highschool Sweetheart, I tried to kill you multiple times and still plan to.”

Why indeed. Were you suicidal still? Maybe. Were you desperate? For sure. Were you lonely?...Regrettably, yes.

You breathed through your nose as you pondered, “...The enemy of my enemy is my ally. Or however that goes. You have no one-” He huffed in offense but you cut him off before he argued and repeated. “I have no one. Stu, well I actually don't know what the Hell Stu has. But all 3 of us are wanted or could be and our lives lie in the hands of a psychotic narcissistic teenager.”

“...Hmph.” He huffed and looked out the open door at the rain pouring off your enclosed porch.

“Huh. Maybe life does work out? Wanted you to stay a while.” You mused.

“Don't start getting philosophical with me, you freak.” Billy grumbled with no real heat in his words.

“...This might fill up my pond.”

He raised a brow. “You have a pond? Where?”

A sly smile crept upon your face as you gestured him to follow you. He looked puzzled but shut the front door and walked with you to the back of the house. You opened the secured back door to show him…True to your word; a man sized open grave like hole right there in the yard.

“It's half filled with water now. Might be kinda gross to bury you in it if you act up.”

You expected anger, mockery, defensiveness…Instead, Billy gave a low rumbling chuckle that eased to a soft laugh. “Yeah right. Keep dreaming, bitch. I'd use it for your body instead but I like to display my corpses.”

He walked away and you smirked slightly. A hint of camaraderie between you both that seemed inevitable considering the circumstances. You shut and locked up the backdoor to see Billy groan and reluctantly take the recliner while it rained.

Stu came out, “Umm…That is my chair. It was my claim a decade ago.”

Billy shrugged, took the remote. “Oh was it? Awww…”

He reluctantly grumbled and took the couch. Trying to get Cherri to sit with him when she kept staring at Billy. Billy huffed out, “YN, what does your ugly ass dog want?”

You couldn't help but chuckle at a rumbling groan of displeasure from your dog as she stared at Billy.

“You're both wrong. YOU are in her seat.” You called as you made coffee.

“Too bad, mutt.” He replied and faltered at her resting her face on the arm and looking sad.

Stu awwed, “Awww...Give her the chair, asshole! She's probably got minutes to live. She's like a corpse now.”

“No, I am not!” He smacked the arm in frustration and she took it as an invitation to just crawl up and make herself at home. “Ack! Fuck, watch the stitches you damn-” He growled out with a grimace as her big body laid on him.

Stu huffed, “You don't want his smelly lap! C'mon. C'mon girl-” He whistled and she just tried sleeping on Billy. “Traitor.”

Billy sighed with a glare. “You can have her; as soon as this rain lets up I'm out of here. You coming with me or what?”

“Undecided.” He gave a sly smirk as he eyed you up and down. Indulging in his new appreciation rekindled as you moved around the kitchen.

You came back with coffee for each of them. You knew you were being too nice and hospitable to literal killers but…What else was there? It was obvious even if things weren't ‘good’, they were not the enemy now. Or at least, not the immediate threat they once were.

You sighed, “Listen, I don't care how long you stay. We need to discuss how we're going to handle Jill. When? How? What signs?” You mumbled as you sat in the other chair.

Stu grimaced, “Ugh, babe. You know I take sugar in my coffee.”

“Now, how would I know that?” You deadpanned and gestured to the kitchen. “Cabinet on the right.” As he got up slowly with his injuries and hobbled to the kitchen. None of you were in any shape to fight or kill each other; let alone Ghostface's.

You and Billy talked amongst yourselves as Stu rummaged. He was sneaking, he just couldn't let you know. Curious about guys in your life, your personal life, all while ‘trying to find the spoons’. He was a controlling, possessive, demanding guy and if he had to kill competition then he would.

Then…He found a knick knack sort of catch all drawer…

He went to shut it but something caught his gaze. His blue eyes sparkled in wonder, softening at what he saw.

A necklace he had worn all the time. He lost it back in the day while visiting here. You most likely found under or behind something…And the note he wrote you with his number was A

all wrinkled and worn but still there.

You didn't forget him. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest at that. That maybe, just maybe, he really wasn't a last resort...

He chuckled a bit and with a coy rare little smile, gently put the note back where it came from. Acting like he saw nothing as he stirred sugar in his coffee.

This was…Going to be an interesting turn of events.

————————————

One Year Later…

“Hey! It's Jill Roberts!” Some guy called out and ran up to her, “Holy shit, can I like get a selfie or?-”

“Yeah, of course.” Jill forced the smile and that sweet act for the public her first day at Uni. She did a kissy face as he snapped a picture of them and rambled to her; asking for her socials and she declined.

It wasn't anything for guys to ask if she had been sexually assaulted or if being stabbed turned her on. She was attractive in a world of dehumanizing horny teen boys. She also got plenty of jealousy from girls. She just ignored it mostly.

She hated going to University but she was pressured in Interviews and she couldn't say ‘Take the money you idiots give me and spend it on a birkin.’ No, she had to say ‘I want to go to University and study something to help others!’ She settled on Medical for now. She just kept telling herself she could drop out in a year or two once the hype died down then work on a book deal…Hmm…Maybe if it gets too stale; another Ghostface killing spree she ‘narrowly’ escape could boost her relevance again?

On her laptop, all she did was scroll past a few nosey people saying she did it and on her phone she got prank calls constantly but she had to answer to make sure it wasn't an important person wanting her.  Despite it all, she smirked as she walked. They were talking about a documentary about her. Best of all? YN has gone MIA. No one has seen or heard from her...Good.

She walked and paused hearing someone calling for her. “I'm not into autographs or sharing details. Sorry.”

“Jill, it's me.”

…She froze hearing the familiar female voice. Of all the people…She heard news Kirby lived about a month after everything but Jill distanced herself on purpose. She turned around with a fake smile, “Hheeyy!”

Kirby smiled and they both awkwardly hugged. Kirby had a longer pixie cut, “Um how are you? I called you and you never really got back with me a few months ago.” She lowered her voice, “Jill you're my best friend and we almost died, I mean…Shouldn't we stay in contact?”

That Dipshit Charlie... He couldn't do one job.

Jill forced a smile while her eyes looked nervous, “Yeah I'm reaaalllyy sorry about that. Life has been…”

“Yeah.” Kirby agreed and nodded. “What major? I'm going into Criminal Justice with a few Sciences under my belt. Maybe some Sociology.”

Jill gave a tight lipped look, “Uh Medical. Nursing.” She vaguely gave.

“Really? Wow, man. I just…Never considered you into that, I mean, you were always as obsessed with horror as me and after what happened...”

“I need stability.” Jill saved with a sharp tone but forced herself to soften it. “You know, after everything.”

“No, I get that. I might epically fail Crime stopping anyways.” She gave a self deprecated joke as they both forced a chuckle. “Actually…I really wanna talk with you. You know about everything.”

Fuck.

“Yeahh.” Jill forced out with a too big of a smile, “Yeah, absolutely. We'll just fit our schedule.”

“Cool. The stab wound is healed ya know, if you're wondering.” Kirby mused almost passive aggressively at Jill not even asking.

She had to get her shit together. She couldn't let a year of planning and careful narratives be washed away- “Sorry, sorry. I suck.”

“Yeah you do.” Kirby smirked. “Coffee?”

“Uh, not right now. Sorry. Just trying to settle in.” Jill grimaced slightly as Kirby grabbed her phone.

“Welp, you leave me no choice. Here's my number. Call me or I'll hunt your ass down and call you.” She chuckled before handing the phone back. “I'm glad you're alright, Jill.”

“Yeah. You…Too.”

Jill watched Kirby leave and her smile dropped. No, Kirby didn't see the kitchen. She got stabbed outside by Charlie but…If she brought up that viral dark web video most sites took down every few weeks just for someone to inevitably upload it again of Olivia's murder…

Her only hope was to say Charlie had to have planted it in her room and admit to any affair and…DAMN IT!

Her hand tightened on her bag. This stupid paranoia never went away. It was all YN's fucking fault. That and those two. And Gale…She might hate Gale most of all, the ex journalist still snooping.

She had a paper thrown at her while walking and she scoffed, “Okay, asshole. Who threw that?” She announced but everyone kept walking, spared a glance but ignored.

She grumbled and picked it up. The note reading, ‘I know what you did-’

She tore it up, not even reading the rest. “Real fucking original.” She grumbled as she tore it up and tossed it like confetti…Not even knowing who sent it…Who threw it…

Or the person watching her from across the Courtyard.

[sleepiereblogs]

This series is so so so freaking good man, deadass this is the only fic that can satiate my scream yearnings.

Every chapter is so masterfully written and I’m kept on like this rollercoaster full on feeling all of y/n’s emotions in these fucked situations. Randy’s death gutted me, in a way that I imagine must’ve been so insanely hard to convey in writing.

I can tell the amount of effort that has gone into this, if not only from the quality, but also from the literal years of your life you’ve put into it. Truly, thank you for staying dedicated this long and sharing such a good, well-written piece with the internet!!

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[sleepiereblogs]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MG GOD ITS SIMPLE MATH

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 10

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

CW: Attempted SA

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper @biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire @hotthankss

The heavy and hard metal reinforced toe of the soldier's boot digging into the side of your skull, the force of the kick sending all thoughts of survival and running away like a football punted through a field goal. The bright light from the lit end of his gun blinds and blurs into large shapes, meshed silhouettes and a visceral throbbing.

The sticky, hot feeling of blood- bits of torn flesh from the intensity of the shotgun blast coat your skin in blotchy, steaming patches. 

You lift your arm in an attempt to block the blinding light as the man approaches again, but everything’s spinning, the motion of lifting your arm throws your entire body off balance. The adrenaline pumping in such a mass supply- the feral, animalistic hindbrain rearing up because it knows this is truly life or death. Your heart is pounding in hopes of delivering the chemical to live another day. Some kind of super-human response in the face of peril.

The confidence of your body fulfilling its duty, being able to protect yourself is shattered the moment the large hand wraps around your forearm and tugs you upward. Body lifting up the earth like a rag doll, then being forced face down into the grass.

Heh, a blade wedged up into your nose.

It tickles.

The twinge of pain, even in its dulled state as your arms are wedged so face backwards makes you grimace. The trees are pretty tonight, the moonlight- even in their blurry form cast tall, dark, blurry forms into the night sky. Maybe the best part about the dissolution of the modern world is the beauty of the night sky without the city’s lights.

It was blurry, even if your muscles felt light they had been hooked up to an electrical main. Tense and ready to pounce at any moment- the blade's edge you were dancing on. But you were aware- slightly. The disconnect ever present in your brain. The sound of a wounded animal as you are drug through the woods, the feeling of zip ties holding your wrists together. 

The feeling of the coagulation collecting dirt. The dust coating the blood on your body, the sticky and thick shell it started to mold onto your flesh. If they jostled you hard enough you could see bits and pieces flake off and onto the dirt below you. 

Sometimes out of spite you’d dig your toes into the earth, digging deep gouges into the moist wooded earth. 

The feeling of rope, your shoulders screaming. The cold of the nearly dried blood on your skin. 

The ache in your neck at the pain of draping forward, opening your eyes and seeing more than blurry shapes and figures. The smell of smoke and two men sitting next to a small fire, something similar to a chicken’s carcass being cooked over the bright coals. The ache in your shoulders, quickly moving to alleviate some of the weight on them by pushing up onto your tiptoes, only for your boots to slip on something and slide out from under you.

The sudden jolt and weight on your wrists and shoulders caused a sharp gasp to escape your lips. The sneer and chuckle of the two soldiers watching you struggle to maintain footing the entertainment of the night.

The smell of blood registering in your nose, the wet slip of something under your toes- looking down to see a pile of guts ripped from the carcass of the chicken discarded at your feet. Every attempt to stabilize yourself met with a wet squelch or the popping of cartilage and bone.

The gag is unstoppable, your body heaving forward with a jolt, further straining your muscles.

They only laugh harder.

The extent of the situation begins to dawn on you- that you wouldn’t be able to do anything against them even with your hands free. The nightmare you’d feared since the beginning had become true, and you were at the mercy of something worse than monsters. 

You were at the mercy of men. 

It’s that very fear, validated in the moment that one of the men rolls over to sleep for the night. The second left to stand guard for the night- waiting until the breaths of the first became even. 

He stands, eyes locked onto your body.

The bile rises in your throat.

You can smell his breath, cigarettes and rot. The wafting smell of charred meat from the chicken they’d eaten earlier. The smell of decay wafting from his mouth with heady breaths. He grips your chin between your forefinger and thumb, and you can see the glint of the dirt and filth coating his hands and under his nails. 

He sneers something to you that you can’t understand, a teasing and crude tone of mock worry. 

He leans in closer.

Without thinking you drive your forehead into his nose as hard as you can, lurching your body forward with as much momentum as you can gather from your struggling toes. 

He lets out a howl, and stumbles back. The first man immediately jolted up at the sound of his comrade’s injury. You hope the satisfaction of the harm inflicted would’ve compensated for the feeling of using your head as a weapon- but the dread washes away any potential smugness as the two men turn back to you, fists raised.

You didn’t even break his nose.

The first, an open handed slap across your cheek sends you reeling backwards, yanked to the side as you stumble as the other man grabs hold of the rope your hands are strung up by. The second lands in your midsection, by the third your knees give out and the only thing keeping your body upright is the rope your wrists are dangling from.

You didn’t even make blood leak from those stupid fucking nostrils.

They get bored rather quickly, four hits in and you're dangling like a piece of meat. Rather than the tears spilling down your cheeks, a whimper escapes your lips as the pain settles into your bones. A throbbing in your lip, and an ache in your middle. A pain blooming on your back. The ever present scream of your shoulders begging for relief. 

You’re going to die here.

The hand reaches under your chin and forces your face back up to look at him. Mumbling something you still can’t understand, free hand reaching up and grabbing hold of your belt.

The hot feeling of spit splattering against your cheek and nose makes the bile in your stomach rise back up into the back of your throat. His thumb coming up and rubbing circles of his spit onto the side of your face before giving it a smug pat. Once, twice for his own good luck. Hand sliding up from your belt and underneath your shirt- you can feel the dull scratch of his filthy nails against the blooming bruises on your abdomen. It makes your spine curl backwards at the feeling- the revolting smell of his breath.

The rustling of ferns, stomping feet against the fallen leaves and branches.

The sickening crack of teeth on bone. The blur of fur and flesh.

The scream of a man in agony.

Both of your heads snap to the side, a dog- no, a beast tearing flesh from the forearm of the man once sleeping. A man lurching from the darkness, blade in hand diving into the throat of the man as the dog tugs on the limp limb, snarling and huffing teeth bore to the taste of blood and pain.

The hand, resting over your rib cage feeling the desperate thudding of your heart yanked away as a blade is driven once, twice, three times-

Again, and again, and again-

The blood splatters against the trees surrounding you, a hot droplet is flicked from the blade and onto you. Adrenaline pumping in your ears all over again as the rope above you is sliced and a man is pulling you into him.

You fight- as much as you can with your wrists still bound. 

The arm wraps around your middle and pulls you back and away from the fire, back and deep into the darkness of the woods. Rather than smoke, guts, blood, coals- rot, all you can smell is blood and the cold forest air. 

Your legs flail, shoulders jolting side to side trying to get away- the dog has seated itself in front of you staring intently at your struggle. As if you’re to be it’s next meal- they’ll set you free to try and run away for their enjoyment of the hunt. The struggle you’ll never win-

Hands cup both sides of your face, steely blue eyes in the moonlight, your own heaving breaths. The arms behind you refuse to relent against your struggle, footsteps. Men.

Fear.

Your name, the timber and desperation of a voice.

Warm hands.

“Hey, hey come on and breathe. Take a deep breath for me sweetheart.” Keegan's voice, and the sound of your hyperventilating.

The brothers share a look.

Cold metal slips between your wrists, freeing the tension of the zip ties. Your hands reach up and meet his, trembling both with fear, adrenaline, and relief. You open your mouth to say something- anything.

All that releases are broken sobs, tears finally breaking the dam and flowing down your cheeks.

He smells like blood. 

He smells like death.

Just like you.

[sleepiereblogs]

Another banger as always, that last line was chilling!

[lovemenotts]

Blossom Elementary

wc: 2.1k

tw: none! kids?

pairing: james x reader

teaching au!

°• ʚїɞ 𖦹 • °𑁍

Your summer had flown by. Last year you had applied to the new job offering they had at an elementary school. You had finally gotten all your credentials for teaching and were now able to get a job as a teacher. So you applied to as many elementary schools as you could. But your dream school to teach at was Blossom Elementary. Blossom Elementary was among the nicests elementary schools, they had a special program in their school. And while it was a well known school it wasn’t like the private charters that parents fought tooth and nail to get their kids in. But it was one that would definitely be looked at in a high honour. So naturally when you got the news that you had gotten the job you were ecstatic. The following weeks were getting the curriculum, classroom, and knowing your way around the school. As the summer progressed you worked endlessly on class plans, activities and other tasks that needed to be done before school started in the fall. Throughout your planning you saw that there was another teacher that would combine your classes together. This was new but definitely not unwelcome to you. Looking into the other teacher you managed to meet her while setting up your classroom. Her name was Mary.

°• ʚїɞ 𖦹 • °𑁍

Quickly you both began talking and became good friends. Naturally your class plans had included each other so your kids would be combined and have more time to coexist with other people. That was two months ago. Now you are standing in front of the door to your classroom, hands shaking. This was your first day. You felt your hands go numb. It wasn’t a bad feeling but certainly uncomfortable. Trying to remain calm you focused on making sure everyone’s name tags were laid out and that everyone had a seat. There were final touches and you continued to glance at everything that needed to be fixed.

In the midst of doing this your friend and coworker Mary walked in.

“Hey Y/n?” You glanced up from the calendar you were looking at and looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Any chance that you had a chance to look at the buddy system?” Your eyes widen. You knew you forgot something. You had been so nervous for today that you had glanced over that part of your lesson plan. You see, Mary had given you a copy of how his lesson plans are made up and how they are structured for the class when they meet with their buddies. Blossom Elementary had a tendency to pair the older students with the younger students and gave them a buddy to work with. It wasn’t that you hadn’t made the lesson plan. You did, you just didn’t know who’s class you’d be going to.

“I’m taking your silence as a no. It’s okay, that’s why I’m your partner.”She smiles and walks towards you with an envelope.

“Right, What would I ever do without you?” She laughs and looks at you slightly

“Y’know you got paired up with a good one.” She comments as she places the envelope on the chair beside you. You scrunch your brow at her comment.

“Whaddya mean?” You ask rising up from your previously crouched place.

“Your buddy class. It’s with the first graders; they're so sweet. The teacher you have is okay. I love mine though! I’m thoroughly glad I don’t have him anymore!” She cheered as you opened the envelope looking at your list. You were paired with a James Potter. If Mary’s words were anything to go off you would assume he’s a nice guy, maybe a tad energetic but nice.

“Don’t worry love he’s nice! He’s just a lot of energy to deal with! Anyway I’ll see you at recess!” She left with a wave and a smile goodbye as she walked to her class across the hall. You sucked in a deep breath as you glanced over your room. This was it, your dream came true.

°• ʚїɞ 𖦹 • °𑁍

Kids began to filter into your room, a lot of them were timid and trying to find their seats and not wanting to play outside. The ones who sat in their seats opted to keep to themselves and thoroughly studied the paper that sat in front of them. You walked around the room greeting parents and children who entered your room. Everyone looked nervous to be there and you felt the same way. More students and parents began to filter in and the students found their seats. After thirty minutes it was time to begin your school year. The nerves were starting to make your skin tingle. But you kept calm as best you could, you smiled at the kids and gently closed the door enclosing you and the thirty kids in your room.

“Good morning everyone! My name is Ms. L/n and I’m your guys’ fifth grade teacher!” A few of the students muttered out a good morning while others said hello and the rest remained silent. As you reached the front of the class you scanned the way most of the eyes that met you looked. Nearly all of the kids looked exhausted. You didn’t really have anything that you needed to teach the kids today. So why not ease them into school? It’s their last year after all!

“I know you guys must be really tired and not at all excited for school huh?” You question as you sat on your desk and began logging into your computer. All of the students agreed to your comment.

“What if we watch a movie together while you guys fill out get to know me pages?” The kids cheer at your suggestion and you began looking for a appropriate movie to play. After some time you finally found a good movie to play, Minions. And much to the kids delight they enjoyed your choice. Happily and cheerfully they began to work on their worksheet filling out the various questions about themselves. Within thirty minutes they had all finished their work. You had seen that they were done and paused the movie.

“Okay raise your hand if you finished the worksheet?” Everyone’s hands flew up.

“Wonderful! Now we’re going to go around in the groups and you’re going to introduce yourself to me ok! And to make it a little less intimidating you can introduce yourself as a minion first.” Most of the kids laughed and they began sitting up waiting for you to pick on a group to start.

“Um okay, how about group four?” All the kids frantically looked at their tables fearing the worst. The other seven tables let out a small sigh as the one in the furthest corner fell silent. A small boy with curly brown hair cleared his throat as he prepared to answer. He stood up and began introducing himself,

“Bello! Kevin!” The class erupted in laughter and it took a moment to quiet down enough for the boy to continue,

“Hi! My name is Haiden, I’m nine years old, I play football and I have a little sister who is in first grade!” He smiled and sat down as most kids said hi to him and clapped as he sat down. The next person who spoke

was a girl who had blonde hair that was put into plaited braids.

“Um, my favourite character isn’t a minion but it’s Dr. Nefario.” A few gasps and giggles were heard. “My name is Aria, I’m nine, I have two dogs and I do gymnastics.” Aria sat down quickly. The other two kids from their group introduce themselves, their names being Jillian and Keith. You called upon another group and began learning more about the kids. You had come to find that most of these children played a sport of some sort. You were down to your last table. Table six.

“Alright dear and who’s your favourite?” You asked a girl who had gorgeous red curls.

“My favourite is Margo!”

“My name is Margaret, I’m ten! I have a cat and I play football. I have a little sister who is also in first grade. And my aunt who teaches here!” She smiled and sat back down. The boy next to her had black hair and he stood up quickly.

“Hi, my favourite is King Bob.”

“My name is Julian. I’m ten, I like to run. I play basketball and I have an older brother.” He sat down and the last two kids looked at each other hoping the other would speak up first.

“I like Ron.” The boy who had sandy hair spoke.

“My name is also Ron, I’m nine. I like to draw, and I play rugby.” He added as he sat down next to the timid looking girl. She had brown hair and a pair of pink circle glasses. She slowly rose from her desk and spoke,

“M’favourite is Agnes.”

“And my name is Eloise, I have two little brothers. I own a cat and I do ballet.” She sat down and looked straight at her hands. The class clapped for her and you smiled looking at your clock hung above the wall. It wasn’t quite time for their recess and you needed to ask Mary a question. So you opted to continue to have them watch Minions. They quietly watched the film as you poked your head into the class next door.

“Ms. Macdonald?”Mary looked up and smiled at you as she placed her pen down as she stood and walked towards you.

“Is everything alright Ms. L/n?” She asked in a hushed tone. You nod and smile at her concern.

“Yes! I just wanted to ask you a question, when do we meet with our little buddies? Like is there a special thing for that or is it when either party is available?” Mary laughed softly as she glanced at her watch.

“I laugh because I was supposed to take the kids to meet their littles! So why doesn’t your class come along? I’ll ring Potter and tell him his big buddies are coming.” You smile and go to tell your kids about the plan.

“Okay everyone! So all of you have been going to Blossom for more than this year right?” You make sure to see everyone nodding their head in agreement. Thankfully everyone had been attending Blossom prior to this year which made explaining where you were taking them much easier.

“Great! So you all know how we have little buddies? Well we’re going to go meet them!” They mostly cheered and began cleaning their desk and quickly lining up. Once they all resemble a line you open your door to see Mary and her class parallel to your door.

“Class this is Ms. Macdonald please say hi.” They all said their hello to Mary and her kids.

“Hi guys! My kids say hi to Ms. L/n! She’s the other grade five teacher!” Her kids all greet you and you smile giving them a smile and wave. Once the greetings were made you and Mary made your ways to the front of the line.

“So did James take it well that we’re coming?” You whisper to Mary. She giggled as you all turn a corner.

“I think he took it better than well. He nearly teleported himself to our pod.” You let out a small laugh. Mary smiled at you and bumped you gently.

“I told you that you had nothing to worry about.” You nod and take another turn with her noticing that you had seemingly arrived at where you needed to be.

“This is your class, mine is right down the hall! We have about forty minutes before we need to head back so the littles can have lunch.” You nod and wave at her as she leads her kids to the class down the hall. You look at your line of kids and knock on the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You waited a few seconds and the door opened. The door revealed a tall man. He was gorgeous. He had beautiful eyes and curly brown hair and he had circled glasses that fit him gorgeously. Sucking in a sharp breath you continue to stare at him.

“Hi! I’m Mr. Potter! You must be my big buddies!” He cheered as he slightly ushered in your kids. You blink and move out the way to have your kids enter his room.

“Um yes! I’m your- I’m Ms. L/n!” You smile as you enter the room with James as your heart rate rises. He was gorgeous, how were you supposed to come and co-teach with him without feeling like a schoolgirl each time? Dear God what did you get yourself into?

°• ʚїɞ 𖦹 • °𑁍

please feel free to like comment and reblog!! it makes me really happy to see them!

<3

lily

[sleepiereblogs]

Eee such an adorable au I love!!

[allllium]

☾ Best Remus Lupin Fics on Tumblr ☆

> Fluff <

Period Pains

I'm Your Boyfriend

Skin

Shy!Remus

Whimsical

↳ [ @moonstruckme ]

Little Family

Full Moon Drabble

↳ [ @wasteddmoondust ]

It's Blue the Feeling I've got

↳ [ @jamespottersdaisy ]

Drunk

Sunshine!Reader

↳ [ @luveline ]

Kiss

Whipped

↳ [ @bruisedboys ]

Shy!Reader ~ [ @daenysx ]

Lazy Sunday Morning ~ [ @gtgbabie0 ]

No Boundaries ~ [ @ddejavvu ]

Sore ~ [ @ellecdc ]

Missed Hints ~ [ @empress-simps ]

Scars ~ [ @crimsntwlip ]

Kisses as Payment ~ [ @diwatopia ]

Lunar Possession ~ [ @jasmines-library ]

Anxious!Reader ~ [ @madwcman ]

Drabble ~ [ @contrarinshiit ]

Annoying Serenading ~ [ @shiftermia ]

Infatuated ~ [ @fourmoony ]

Touch Starved ~ [ @gtgbabie0 ]

Introduction to the Son ~ [ @starzqzi ]

Never His ~ [ @weasleykisses ]

> Hurt/Comfort <

It's Nice to Have a Friend

Sweet Nothing

↳ [ @jamespottersdaisy ]

Migraine ~ [ @moonstruckme ]

Blue Moon ~ [ @ellecdc ]

Unconditionally ~ [ @sarahisslytherin ]

Snappy ~ [ @luveline ]

[sleepiereblogs]

Saving for a rainy day :)

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

[sleepiereblogs]

Oh you never disappoint me. Took me on the full journey from wanting to yell at this man to just wanting them to talk it out and be happy.

James speaking his piece about how he isn’t even angry at anyone other than himself, how yes, he’s been mad, but only because of how blind he’s been. Such a sweet moment, when he got so flustered he couldn’t speak and had to just stand up and find proof, leaving mc so shocked she just sat there in disbelief and despair. Only for James to come back with the box :(( stop he’s so cute I’m going to die.

The kiss was so fulfilling, and let me tell you that your imagery is insane. I could feel the yearning for physical contact, be it just a hug, they both wanted it so bad, and when they kissed oh god it was amazing. Everything you’d hope for and more.

Have I mentioned how much I loved this story?

[everythingisromant1c]

omg u always know just what to say 😭🫶🫶 I am so so so happy that u enjoyed the ending (which was probably the chapter I edited/rewrote the most tbh) so ur words mean sm!!!! Tysm for all ur kind words actually and for being so amazing and sweet! not only is it still crazy to me that ppl r reading and enjoying my works but to talk abt them with this much care and detail? u have my whole heart. all my love to u as always😁🩷

- e

[sleepiereblogs]

You deserve the praise! Truly this was a really great fic and you have a talent for writing 🫶

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

[sleepiereblogs]

Oh you never disappoint me. Took me on the full journey from wanting to yell at this man to just wanting them to talk it out and be happy.

James speaking his piece about how he isn’t even angry at anyone other than himself, how yes, he’s been mad, but only because of how blind he’s been. Such a sweet moment, when he got so flustered he couldn’t speak and had to just stand up and find proof, leaving mc so shocked she just sat there in disbelief and despair. Only for James to come back with the box :(( stop he’s so cute I’m going to die.

The kiss was so fulfilling, and let me tell you that your imagery is insane. I could feel the yearning for physical contact, be it just a hug, they both wanted it so bad, and when they kissed oh god it was amazing. Everything you’d hope for and more.

Have I mentioned how much I loved this story?

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 11

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Even with the events of the morning, you were still determined to go on your date in Hogsmeade. Though, after the heated discussion you'd had with James, you weren't sure how enjoyable the experience could be.

wc [5.3k]

a/n: hello all!! ty all for the love on the past chapters, and im both happy + sad to say that there will be one more chapter to this series! (ahh!) can't wait to release it very very soon <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 10 - Chapter 12 -> *coming soon

You'd arrived at Madam Puddifoot's so quickly you could've sworn you'd apparated, or at least that's what it'd felt like. It was like your legs had gone into autopilot, some sort of survival instinct that had willed you to keep walking when it was the last thing you wanted to do. Though at the same time, you didn't think you would've had it in you to continue your conversation with James, if you could even call it that.

It hurt too much in the moment. Hell, it hurt too much to even think about—though this time, you couldn't force yourself to just 'ignore' it. In fact, it was all you could think about the entire walk to the tea shop, even though you were meant to be thinking about someone else. That someone who was standing outside of the shop, tall frame and perfect smile greeting you next to the pink wooden door.

"Hey there," he called, the warmth from his smile audible to you even alongside the winds that almost howled against your figure. You already felt yourself panicking, because he looked so charming and hopeful and you were sure you looked anything but.

You pried away the hair that had flocked in front of your eyes thanks to the relentless breeze. Just as you'd suspected, you definitely did not look like the perfect, effortlessly pretty girl you were sure Sebastian was accustomed to seeing on a date.

His smile dropped, the inner workings of his brows pulling concernedly. "Hey, are you okay?" He moved closer until he had a hand gently holding one of your shoulders, eyes scanning over your face.

You nodded, gaze cast downwards busily. You lifted a hand over your cheek, alarmed as it came back damp and shining. You must've started to cry for real sometime between when your best friend confessed his supposed feelings for you and when you walked to your date with another guy—you felt faint.

"Yeah," you told him, though your voice cracked halfway. "Just had a rough morning, is all."

Sebastian looked over you for a few seconds, maybe bargaining whether he could still get out of this date before it even truly began. "Are you sure you're up for our date? If you want me to take you back to the castle, we can always reschedule-"

"No." You forced your lips to smile at him, your nose to take a breath in. "I'm better now." You tipped your head to the door behind him. "Let's head inside."

He relented, maybe not by choice because you'd already begun walking towards the entrance to the shop, but he did all the same. He managed to hold the door open for you, to which you nodded gratefully and walked into Madam Puddifoot's with as much dignity as you could muster.

The tea shop was decked out with romantic and frilly pink decorations on every wall, fine china and complicatedly patterned cloths on every table. Sebastian guided you to one of them, pulling out your chair for you without a second thought. You sat down, finally feeling a bit more stable, though that feeling was lost as soon as you moved to take off your coat.

Your fingers paused, even if only for the thinnest of seconds, on the fabric draped over your shoulders. You lowered your head—you were still wearing James's jacket. The warm scent enveloped you every time you breathed, so you didn't. At least, not until you lifted the jacket from off your shoulders and onto the back of your chair. Its presence was still a dizzying reminder of all that'd been said just a few minutes ago, something you had to fight not to react to as Sebastian took a seat across from you.

A heavy ten seconds passed until a dark-haired woman who you assumed was Madam Puddifoot herself came over to your table. She wore a smile and an apron with frills that matched the decorations. "What can I get for the lovely couple?"

You felt so unlike yourself that you didn't even flush at her use of the word 'couple.' Sebastian gestured for you to order first. Your mind was strangely blank as you voiced, "Just a ginger tea, please."

Madam Puddifoot gave you a strange and assessing look after you spoke, the shadow of a motherly, concerned frown disturbing her features. "My dear, are you alright?"

If one more person asked you that you thought you were going to cry again. You looked up at the woman and nodded, a polite smile gracing your lips. "I'm alright, thank you." Changing the topic as Madam Puddifoot continued to stare at you, you looked over at the boy across from you. "What would you like, Sebastian?"

"I'll just take a black tea, thanks." He smiled handsomely up at Madam Puddifoot, and that seemed to satisfy her.

She nodded and clapped her hands together. "One Ginger and one Black!" she yelled to no one in particular, until suddenly two fragile-looking cups of tea came swarming towards your table, seemingly appearing from nowhere, and set themselves down in front of you both. The witch clapped her hands again and a plate of biscuits appeared before you to accompany your tea.

She smiled, satisfied. "Anything else I can get you, dears?"

Sebastian looked at you as you shrugged, so he shook his head no at the woman, who nodded before moving to greet another pair of students who'd appeared at the door.

"So," Sebastian began, picking up his tea but not drinking it. "You said you had a rough morning?"

You looked down at the cup in front of you. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright."

Sebastian pinched his brows. "Right, I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "Don't be." Then you picked up your own tea, taking a sip of its gingery contents that only soothed your mind a little bit. "How was your own morning?"

"It was alright. Took the carriage ride in with my mate and his date." He laughed to himself. "Can't help but think I was a bit of a third wheel, really."

"Right, I'm so sorry about that." You set down your tea. "My friend ... my friends wanted me to spend some time with them for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year." You felt sick just saying it, the sentence cloaked in your poorly hidden disguise as you fought your expression from changing.

"No worries. I get it." Sebastian plucked a biscuit off the porcelain plate between you. "That reminds me of my first time going to Hogsmeade in the third year, actually."

He began relaying a story to you about him and his friend, something about a permission slip not being signed, but you couldn't help but become distracted. Distracted by whatever mess was going on up in your brain.

"Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

The dizzying words whipped around in your head like a sail in violent winds, and you tried your hardest to lower the mast. You looked at the daintily beautiful setup before you, aged tablecloth and intricate silverware, biscuits and jam placed effortlessly in the middle of it all. The whole scene seemed to mock you, really. The perfect setup for a date and yet your mind couldn't even seem to recognize that you were on one.

You somehow managed to refocus on what Sebastian was saying, him luckily having not noticed your wandering mind, and willed yourself to laugh and smile when appropriate. It wasn't his fault; his story was funny, or at least you thought it should've been on any other occasion.

"I've heard Vance tell about a million jokes to you and, trust me, you couldn't get a five-year-old to laugh at any one of them."

As those words rang through your head, you truly became angry. Angry at James for even having said them, but more so angry at yourself for even thinking of them during a time like this.

"And ever since then, his parents have had to send his permission slip directly to Dumbledore by owl." Sebastian finished his story with a nostalgic glint in his eye, and you hummed a laugh that you hoped sounded genuine enough. God, you were just awful.

For the rest of the date, time seemed to pass by slower and slower until you'd lost track of how many times you had to muster up a smile or calculate a laugh as your brain worked against you. But your method seemed like it was working well enough, and Sebastian seemed unbothered by your slight passiveness. It made you wonder how well you really knew each other.

The stuffiness of the shop was swelling and threatening the steady rhythm you'd made. Maybe you'd cooled off on the outside, but inside it felt like your mind was overheating and melting the rest of you until it made it difficult to breathe normally without focusing on that alone.

Maybe thirty minutes had gone by, or an hour, but it became a lot harder to focus on doing that when you watched as Sebastian went quiet and placed a soft hand on yours atop the table. You looked down at his fingers that encapsulated yours, a romantic gesture, surely, and then back at him. This time though, he had inched closer from across the round table and his gaze had gone soft and your heart had dropped in your chest because this was exactly what you thought would happen—Did he want to kiss you?

You panicked, you didn't know why, but you did. You pulled your hand from his swiftly and, in the blink of an eye, a crash and a painful clang rang out and suddenly there were shards of white porcelain all over the floor next to you.

You'd knocked over a teacup. Of course you had.

You panicked even more. "Oh my God," you cursed. "Crap."

You knelt down and began picking up the scattered pieces, but there were so many and your head was still spinning from earlier and you were thinking about someone else when Sebastian had tried to kiss you and suddenly your vision was blurring over.

Sebastian quickly got up from his seat and joined you in your effort to pick up the broken fragments of your cup. When they were all picked up and you placed them back down on the table, a mess next to the prettily stacked biscuits and jam, he frowned when he saw your distraught expression and teary eyes.

"Hey, are you hurt?" he questioned hurriedly. "Did you get cut?"

You shook your head. "No, I didn't." Your voice broke, and suddenly you really were crying again, surely causing a scene in the tea shop.

"Hey, it's okay," cooed Sebastian, some confusion lining his voice. "It's only a teacup. I'm sure Madam Puddifoot has hundreds of others."

You shook your head pathetically. "No, it's ... it's not that."

He regarded you for a moment. "Is it because I tried to kiss you?"

You didn't respond, maybe from embarrassment, or shame, or because of the effort of trying to stop yourself from crying, but Sebastian sighed.

"It is, isn't it?" He shook his head in his hand, elbow on the table. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. It's too early, and you're clearly upset-"

"It's alright, Sebastian." You wiped at your cheeks. "We're on a date in Madam Puddifoot's. That's what people do when they come here. This is all my fault really. This whole mess, it's my fault."

"It was only an accident," Sebastian reasoned, and at your shattered expression, he stopped himself. "Not about the teacup. Right."

You sat there in silence for a beat, peering at the physical mess you'd made as well.

"If you don't mind me asking," Sebastian began, "is this all about what happened this morning?"

Your heart stung in your chest for a moment at the thought of it. "Yeah... it is." You looked away, gathering yourself. "Just a thing with a friend. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he told you, for what seemed like the thousandth time since you'd met him. He went silent for a second too, head tipped down before lifting it back up. He seemed to look at you then like he was seeing right through you. "The friend is Potter, isn't it?"

Your eyes snapped to him as your stomach churned and a wave of guilt washed over you. "How-" you gaped. "How did you know?"

"I just had a feeling." He shrugged. "Plus, you came in wearing his jacket, so I just figured."

Your lips parted and you spared a glance over at the worn brown coat draped over the back of your seat. The guilt seemed to drown you now, and all you wanted to do was hide in your dorm.

"Look," Sebastian began, and he looked surprisingly not angry. "I don't know what happened with Potter, but whatever it is, you should probably be with him right now. Not with me."

A premonition churned in your gut at his words. "I don't know if that's the best idea right now, if I'm being honest."

"Like I said, I don't know what's happened. But," he looked down at the shards of porcelain on the table between you, "you don't just go breaking tea cups over anyone."

You laughed then, or maybe it was a half-sob, but it wasn't calculated and it would've felt good, had the weight in your chest not been still weighing down on you.

"And," he continued. "He ... Potter ... the way he is around you ... you're obviously not just 'anyone' to him either."

At his words and the genuinely considerate look in his eyes, you felt aggravated at yourself. Here you were, sitting in a tea shop with the kind of guy any girl would dream of getting to have a first date with, and you'd ruined it.

"Thanks, Sebastian," you said, "but I can't ask you to talk about this with me. It's not fair to you." You stood up from your seat on shaky legs and took James's jacket in your hands. You didn't think you had it in you to put it on again, no matter how chilly it'd gotten outside. "And I hope you don't hate me for ruining this date."

Sebastian shook his head. "I don't. Trust me."

You smiled at him, though you were sure you still looked insane from all the crying you'd done. "Don't worry about walking me all the way back, I'll be alright. And I think I'd prefer to be alone right now anyway."

"Right." Sebastian tilted his head at you. "Is at least to the door alright?"

You gave in, because he was still so charming, and he placed a stack of coins on the table. You were sure there was some extra money there as well for the teacup you'd broken, and you couldn't even argue with him because you didn't know if you had it in you after the morning you'd had.

He opened the door and you both left, standing idly outside the shop, the wind still energetic and unforgiving.

"For what it's worth," Sebastian began before you could bid him goodbye. "I don't think anyone could ever hate you. Especially not Potter."

You swallowed, grateful for his words and also hating the way they settled in your throat. Before you could say anything more, he tipped his head at you in goodbye and walked off. Then you did too, though you really didn't have a plan of what you would do next.

Your body seemed to drag itself all the way back to Hogwarts. The walk was probably no more than ten or so minutes but it felt eternal as you'd spent every second of it trying to escape the acid rainstorm of your mind's muddied thoughts. That, along with trying not to cry for the third time that day.

Your footsteps pattered slowly into the empty common room and up the stairs to your equally empty dorm, and you remembered with a sigh that nearly everyone was still enjoying their day at Hogsmeade. It was a blessing and a curse, giving you some solitude but also meaning you wouldn't see your friends for hours.

You'd spent the rest of the day in bed, doing some homework from time to time but mainly just letting your mind wander wherever it wanted to because you didn't have the energy to stop it—that meant you spent an aggravatingly long amount of time thinking about James.

You were angry at him, so angry, because he had all this time to tell you how he was feeling and didn't; not until you were about to go on a date with another boy, one that was ruined anyway.

But you were also frightened because you didn't know how you were supposed to come back from this. Your hands shook and your mind whirled as you realized that you'd have to speak to James again eventually—he was your best friend. But the more you thought about it, you didn't even know if that could still be the case after everything that'd happened.

What if he hated you now? What if you'd ruined everything with him, just like you'd spent all those nights fearing you would, and you'd lost him for good? If there were answers to your questions, you weren't sure you wanted to hear them just yet.

Soon enough the door to your dorm rattled, the hours slipping past you in your state of worry, and Lily and Marlene appeared in the doorway. They still had the ghosts of laughter on their faces that paused at their noticing you.

"Hey you," Marlene sang, an expectant grin tugging at her lips. "So? How did it go?" When she entered the room far enough to notice you on your bed, still in your dress from earlier with your makeup surely ruined, she stilled. "Oh no." She put her bag down on the ground next to her.

Lily turned towards you both curiously. "What happened?"

You ran both of your hands over your face, grimacing as some of the mascara that'd run down your cheeks revealed itself on your fingers. " 'What didn't happen' is a better question, I suppose."

The two girls came to sit with you on your bed and, for the first time that day, you verbally went through all that had happened since you left their side that morning, including your mess of a date and all that James had said to you right before it. It took more effort than you would've liked just to keep your voice steady, but that didn't stop them both from giving you achingly sympathetic looks the whole time you spoke, mixed with both fury and shock. When you finished, you felt like you were out of breath. A silence vibrated through the air before either of them spoke.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, and that question broke you just like you swore it would when it was asked to you earlier. You looked down at the dress you still wore, trying to fight off the emotion trying to claw its way up your throat, and Lily took you in her arms before it could. Marlene joined in then too and you let yourself be held by them as you felt like breaking.

They didn't rush or make any effort to pull away until you did, though you did after a moment, knowing there was more to talk about that they were too nice to pry over.

"We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." Marlene tipped her head at you concernedly.

You shook your head. "No, I'm alright now. I think." You shrugged. "And maybe talking about it will help."

The blonde nodded slowly. "So, what exactly did Potter say to you?"

You blinked slowly, finding it all too easy to recall the conversation. "He said that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened. And that it ... meant something to him."

Lily looked at you pensively. "And did you tell him about your feelings for him too?"

"I-" you went still, blinking at the redhead, who stared back at you with the slightest shadow of a smile toying at her lips. A mixture of both guilt and embarrassment clawed in your chest as you fought for words. "You knew?"

She tipped her head at you, the forgiving look she gave you speaking volumes, and you internally thanked Merlin for blessing you with the best friends in the bloody world.

"Of course I knew," she chided. "Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that you both are in love with each other." At her choice of words something fluttered in your stomach uncomfortably.

"I wouldn't say love is the right word for whatever he says he feels for me," you responded. Lily and Marlene shared a loaded look from either side of you as you spoke dismissively. "Clearly it's not the same as how he feels about you, Lily."

"Yeah," she said, meaning a thousand dizzying things. "It's not."

She looked at you meaningfully then, and you found it hard to not wilt under her gaze. You shifted your eyes to somewhere else and felt even worse as they landed on the brown jacket that sat on the end of your bed. Like she noticed your thoughts right away, Marlene stood up and picked up the coat.

"I'm going to go get rid of this." When you lifted a weak brow at her she added, "I mean, return it to him."

Lily shook her head from next to you and you both watched your friend leave the dorm room. She gestured with her head for you to follow her as she got up and went into the bathroom. You did, scaring yourself as you got a glimpse of your appearance in the mirror. Your eyes were still tinted pink and your makeup was a mess.

Lily had you sit atop the toilet as she wet a towel and began wiping away at your cheeks. The fabric was warm on your skin, her touch light and gentle.

"So, what are you gonna do?" she asked the question as she stepped away to re-wet the cloth and you shrugged, already knowing what she was referring to.

"I don't know." You focused on the feeling of the towel on your face. "At this point, I think I'm just not meant for all this dating stuff. I mean, first with the rumors, and then with that girl harassing me about Sebastian in the library. I practically cried when he tried to kiss me, for Merlin's sake."

Lily paused her actions, skin going taught around her brows. "He tried to kiss you? When you were clearly upset?"

You looked down at your lap. "I was hiding my emotions the whole time, laughing at all his jokes. Maybe I felt bad for ruining the date, I don't know. All he did was lean slightly forward and I freaked out. If I'd been feeling better, I ... I would've wanted to. Kiss him, I mean. He was incredibly sweet the entire time, even after I cried and broke that tea cup. But all I could think about was bloody James the entire time."

"Well of course you were thinking about him." Lily stood back up fully and ran the towel she'd used underneath the sink. "He just dumped all this emotional stuff on you after hardly speaking to you all week. Of course you're going to be thinking about it."

You stared at her back. "So you don't think it means anything else?"

"Well," she turned back around and leaned against the sink. "Would you have been thinking about him even if he hadn't confessed to you this morning?"

Your mouth feathered open and then shut itself closed at her question, and you kept your gaze low. You could feel the answer your heart already knew fighting to make its way past your lips.

Before time forced an answer from you, the sound of Marlene's footsteps made their way into the bathroom as she re-entered your dorm. It took her a second to find the two of you before she was sticking her head in the bathroom.

"Lupin and Black are downstairs asking to see you." Your eyes subtly widened at her words automatically. "Don't worry, I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No," you stopped her. "I should talk to them." You felt peeved that the idea of seeing them made you so nervous; that was exactly what you didn't want to happen if things went wrong with James. "They aren't the reason for all this. They're still my friends." You stood up. "And maybe they're not even gonna ask about James."

As soon as you went down the stairs to the common room with Marlene and Lily in tow, your hopes were easily shattered. The two boys sat at the couch in front of the now crackling fireplace that filled the room with warm light and turned towards you with foreboding expressions.

"What the hell happened between you and James?"

You would've been mad at Sirius's frankness, but you were at least grateful they both weren't looking at you with painful sympathy like everyone else that day had. You could always count on them for that.

"Hello to you too."

The completely sober looks on their faces were something you weren't used to seeing, making you slow your steps as you sat down on one of the seats next to them. Marlene and Lily stood on either side of you like security guards.

"Seriously," Sirius insisted. "James has never been like this before. We don't even know where he is right now."

"He's probably out on the Quidditch pitch." Your voice came as a surprise to you as the words left your lips, small but steadily confident. You ignored the way they looked at you. "I thought James would have told you all what happened by now."

"He did," said Remus, and you felt your heart picking up in your chest. "But that doesn't mean we're not confused about it."

You stared hardly back at them both. "I'm just as confused about it as you guys are, alright?"

"Well, maybe you should go and talk to him," Sirius insisted. "He's pretty upset."

"And?" Marlene scoffed from behind you. "Are you saying that it's her fault?"

Sirius glared at the girl behind you. "All we're saying is that James disappeared after we got off the carriage, and the next time we saw him he looked like he'd been crying. Crying for Merlin's sake."

A feeling unidentifiable knawed at you—something like surprise, something like guilt—and you looked down at your lap, hating yourself but also hating the situation more.

Marlene only groaned. "Oh come on. You really think it's fair to be trying to make her feel bad for poor Potter after all that's happened?"

You looked with trepidation at the faces of your two friends on the couch and then turned to look at her. "Marlene..." you coaxed, but she just took a step forward to stand next to you.

"No, I mean it." She pointed a finger at Sirius and Remus. "You lot have some nerve wailing about Potter's bloody feelings to her. You weren't the ones who had to comfort her every time she came back heartbroken, practically in tears, over Potter's sheer blindness at the amazing girl right in front of him. And you definitely weren't the ones fighting off feral girls who decided to harass her in the library over the bloody rumors everyone is spreading. But you didn't even know about that, did you?"

You felt heat rushing to your face the more she spoke, but you didn't think she was anywhere near finished. In all the chaos from the last day, you hadn't told them anything about the library incident. You also hadn't ever truly discussed your feelings for James with them, but that was more your own fault than theirs, you supposed. You looked over at your friends' faces again and they were peering at you quizzically. You felt too much like hiding.

"So what if Potter's upset?" Marlene continued, voice truly raising now. "He has no right to be. Not after he went and ruined her date with Vance all because the boy has bloody awful timing. It's right selfish if you ask me. She deserves better."

When she finished, you'd all gone quiet, but not for any reason you would've hoped. You looked up with dread and found the face of the boy that'd been replaying endlessly in your mind the entire morning. You felt your breathing shallow in your chest at the sight of him.

James was standing there near the door of the common room, brown hair wet from the shower he'd probably taken after going out on the Quidditch pitch—just as you'd predicted he would—and his chest rose and fell beneath a fresh white T-shirt. Despite that, he didn't look like he'd been doing much better than you, and you could see the weight behind his eyes even from where you sat.

He'd heard Marlene's words, no doubt, but the question was how much he'd heard. You prayed with all your might that he hadn't been witness to her words about you crying over him in your dorm. Your cheeks were heating and you wanted to curse Marlene but couldn't, firstly because you loved her to pieces and secondly because you couldn't help but think over her words and find that she wasn't completely wrong. But that didn't mean staring at James right then was any easier.

He scanned over a now silent Marlene from beside you, probably Lily as well, and then you. An ocean of thoughts and painful images of words shared through raised voices rippled unforgiving through your head. His expression revealed little to nothing, but you knew he was thinking about the same things you were.

The air was thick with words unsaid, or maybe with the words that were said, you couldn't be sure, but you found it hard to breathe. Your lips parted, but you said nothing. He didn't either, his jaw ticking before he broke his painful gaze away from you and stalked off up the stairs and to his dorm, out of sight.

You felt like you could breathe again, albeit with some strain, but the atmosphere didn't become any less tense.

"Look," Sirius began, and you didn't know how much more conversation you could take. "We-, and don't blow up at us again McKinnon," he gave her a pointed but nervous look. "Me and Remus haven't been there for everything—you're right. But we've also seen things from James's side. He's more confused than he's probably been about anything in his life, and it's not for just any reason. He's scared." He looked pointedly at you, and you'd never seen him so serious. "And we know you are too. I get that. But if this is how things are going to be from now on, we can't just sit here and let it happen."

"What do you want me to do?" You almost begged as your exasperation began to bleed through to your voice. "Just march up there and tell him I'm ready to be with him?" The way they were staring back at you made you think they were about to tell you 'yes.' You let a stressed breath out, shaking your head. "It's not that easy. I wish it was, but it's not, alright?"

When they said nothing back, you continued. "I've been hurting over these ... feelings ... for years. He doesn't just get to realize he liked it when we kissed a week ago and have me. It can't work like that."

A dull silence rippled through the room before anyone said anything more.

Remus sighed and looked straight at you, his eyes achingly genuine. "At the end of the day, you and James are still best friends. You've been attached at the hip since you were kids. See how long you last trying to avoid each other."

You swallowed and your stomach almost seemed to hurt at the sound of Remus's words. You didn't know what to say back to him, but you didn't need to, because soon the portrait door was opening again and Peter strolled in, looking like he was walking atop clouds.

"Hey you guys," he greeted, a smile gracing his face with his hands in his pockets. "My date went spectacularly. We even went to- is something wrong?" Peter studied each of your expressions and you felt horrible at the fact that you'd forgotten all about him and his date. He frowned over at you. "What did I miss?"

You sighed. You didn't even know how to begin to answer that question.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27

[sleepiereblogs]

Marlene and Lily continue being the world’s best friends! With Lily not being as clueless as mc had thought, there ready and willing to comfort and piece mc back together after all of this; and Marlene with her overflowing knowledge of how to handle a situation, giving them the space to talk, and chewing Remus and Sirius out when it was absolutely necessary. The way Ik that girl’s blood boiled when they were talking, all those years hearing her best friend so beat up over this guy, only for them to act like it’s dumb for her to be upset with James.

What I especially appreciate is mc’s justification for why her and James can’t just kiss and makeup, because her feelings aren’t just a spontaneous kiss that they liked a little too much for best friends, her feelings are the pining she has done for years, the repressing her emotions to save his, even acting as his wing woman. Her feelings are so much more complex than James even realizes and she has every right to be angry.

Finally, bless Sebastian for taking this all like a champ, unlike James lmao 💀

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 10

james potter x fem!reader

summary - In all the excitement—or horror, to you—of the week, including the rumors that were still spreading rapid-fire around school, or your supposed best friend James's mysteriously terrible mood, you'd almost forgotten: the time had finally come for you to go on your date in Hogsmeade.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 -> *coming soon ...

Maybe your best friend's unexplainable foul mood had been the reason that sleep came difficult to you that night, or maybe it was the fact that the clock in your brain was counting down until the time the sun would rise. The time when morning would come and you'd take that carriage ride over to Hogsmeade with the boys like you'd promised, and have to find Sebastian to go on your date with him. Your date. It still didn't feel real.

You didn't know if anything you'd done in the past could truly be qualified as an official date, one you could refer back to that morning as you finally saw sunlight through your window and knew you'd have to get ready. Luckily, you had two of the best girls you knew for friends, and they were set on helping you.

"I'm telling you, it's the first dress." Marlene nodded her head at you with wide, excited eyes, as you held two different dresses still on hangers up to your neck. "I mean are you kidding? It's one hundred percent your color, and you look sexy as hell in it."

Your jaw dropped at her antics. "Marlene," you cooed nervously.

"I mean it. Sebastian's not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you when he sees you."

You covered your face with your hands, half because you were embarrassed, and half because you didn't need Lily and Marlene to see you spiraling at the thought of what Marlene had just suggested. You'd been so caught up with, well, everything going on, that you hadn't even considered what going on a date truly entailed. What if he wanted to kiss you?

"Then you kiss him back," Marlene said easily as you voiced your question aloud. She stopped herself. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, placing down a pair of nice shoes with a short but elegant heel on them that you'd forgotten you'd owned on the floor next to you. "Only do something if you want to do it. Don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Even if it's as simple as holding your hand."

"Thank you guys, I know." You set the dress you were planning on wearing on the bed beside you, fiddling with the hanger pensively. "Holding his hand would be nice, I think." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. "To be honest, I don't know what I want." The two girls came to stand closer to you as you spoke. "I mean, Sebastian's a great guy and all, but do I even know him all that well?" Your mind traveled back to all the interactions you'd had with him. "What if I only said yes to go out with him because he asked me during the middle of that prank and I panicked and-"

"You need to relax," Lily said, voice firm but comforting at the same time. "You're just freaked out because it's the morning of. You're gonna have a great time." She shrugged a shoulder. "And if things don't click, then it wasn't meant to be. It's not the end of the world. "

"Exactly," the blonde said from next to her. "Don't let Potter's nonsense-spewing mouth ruin this date for you."

You'd filled them in the night before on all that'd been going on with James for the past few days, minus the few intimate 'almosts' that you'd shared with him that'd been dangerously playing in your mind even when you begged them to stop.

"Trust me," you said. "I'm trying not to."

"I still can't believe he's acting like this." Lily shook her head agitatedly. "And just when I was starting to think he might be maturing."

You nodded grievingly. "I would defend his honor to you, Lily, but I don't feel much like doing that right now."

"Maybe it's for the best." She breathed out a dry laugh. "Anyways, I suppose," she sighed. "Are you finished in the bathroom? I need to use the loo."

You snorted. "Yeah, all yours."

She shot you an overly excited grin and slipped into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. All the while, Marlene took a seat on the bed next to you, something glimmering behind her eyes that told you she had ideas she wanted to voice.

You stared at her half amusedly, half hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Did you ever think, during all your bickering, why Potter has such a problem with you going on this date?"

You sighed. That was all you could think about. You tipped your head at her, knowing where this conversation was going to lead. "Yeah," you said plainly. "Because he's set on the five of us spending every Hogsmeade trip together until we die."

"Or maybe," she argued, "it's because he's jealous."

You dropped your shoulders, shaking your head as you stared at her. "You're not serious."

The blonde stared back at you with an equal amount of fire. "I so am."

You laughed to yourself, perhaps deprecatingly. "The only thing James could be jealous about is the free butterbeer I'll probably be getting."

"Don't be dense."

"I'm not being dense. I'm being realistic." You puffed out a breath. "I know James. Well enough to know that, after we ..." you trailed off. "After the party, when he disappeared, he was freaked out because I'd scared him off. And he knows me too. I didn't have to tell him for him to figure out that I'd ... felt something for him. Something that he obviously was uncomfortable talking about, so I've spared him the trouble and moved on. That's the end of it." You picked up the dress you'd laid on the bed as you heard Lily washing her hands in the bathroom. "It has to be."

Marlene regarded you for a few seconds, maybe scoping out how genuine you were. "Like you said," she shrugged, "you know him best."

You nodded, ending the conversation as Lily exited the bathroom. Though the more this week went on, you believed that fact less and less.

You soon were leaving the sides of both Lily and Marlene after the walk down to the horseless carriages in front of the school, dozens of them stationed there to take everyone down to Hogsmeade.

The air was especially crisp for a September evening, making you think to yourself that maybe bringing a jacket would have been a smart choice, especially in the dress you were wearing, but your brain soon became occupied by other thoughts. Thoughts that were centered around the sight of your four friends standing around an unoccupied carriage in the distance, probably waiting for you.

You took a breath in, and then another one. You were completely devoted to ensuring this would be a drama-free carriage ride, no matter what, or who, tried to stop that from happening. You made your way over to the four boys, two of their backs turned to you. You tapped the long-haired one, of course Sirius, on the shoulder.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me, did you?" you smirked up at him.

He had a wry smile on his face as he turned to you, surely ready with a quip to send back your way, but that smile left as he saw you, his eyes quickly scanned over you.

"Wow," he blanched. Then a sparkling grin took over his features. "You certainly clean up nice."

You crinkled your forehead at his remark and amused smirk until Remus cut in. "What he means is," corrected the sandy-haired boy from next to him. "You look beautiful. Seriously."

You felt your face begin to heat at the four pairs of eyes all now observing you as you stood there in your dress. You were surprised they weren't poking more fun at you than just Sirius's single obvious remark. You couldn't remember the last time you were this dressed up in front of them.

"Thanks," you muttered gratefully. "Now stop gushing and let's get a move on, yeah?"

Remus shook his head at your reaction but hid his laugh, taking an effortless step onto the high carriage, Peter quietly behind him. Sirius made a move to ruffle your hair, which you dodged easily and shot him a glare. He chuckled, making his way over to the carriage as well. That left only you and James.

You turned to him finally, expecting him to be avoiding your eyes as he'd done for the past few days, but instead found him looking straight at you, hazel eyes and all. You didn't know what to do under his gaze which you'd grown somewhat unused to, so you settled on doing nothing at all. You were still holding your grudge over how he'd been acting and weren't quick to forget about it. You were fully expecting him to do the same and say nothing to you at all.

"You do," he said suddenly, and at the confused quirk of your brow, softly added, "Look beautiful, I mean."

You paused, somewhat taken aback by both his words and the genuine tinge of his eyes. You didn't know how James could hold eye contact so easily, especially when he'd been so set on doing just the opposite lately.

"Oh," you voiced quietly, and couldn't help the way the corners of your lips tilted upwards. "Thanks."

He nodded wordlessly and the two of you turned back to the carriage that held your three other friends, clearly able to hear and see your conversation. You eyed the tall wooden floor of the carriage before you and then the high cut of your dress, and then your shoes. As if reading your mind, a firm hand held itself out in front of you.

You peaked your head over to the source of the hand: James, who looked at you expectantly, a certain air to him that was both light and heavy. You regarded him and his hand for a split second, deciding there was no harm in taking it, and did, your fingers slipping over his steadying palm as you took the large step into the carriage. And maybe you were imagining it, but you felt the ghost of his fingers delicately shadowing your lower back as you steadied yourself into your seat, James following from behind.

He sat across from you and you avoided looking at him as you fought reacting to the feeling that ran through you, like you were still on some kind of high from his touch. It only made you mad to think about, so you decided not to, looking elsewhere instead as the carriage began moving seemingly on its own.

It'd only taken a few moments for the Hogwarts castle to be only a beautiful shrinking sight in the distance, and for the scenery of the early fall to take over your senses instead. You were sat in front of James, who sat next to Peter, the blonde looking rather sickly and lost in troubling thoughts.

"Pete," you called curiously. "You alright? You look pale."

The boy in question turned to you with worry behind his eyes, but he only nodded. "Yeah, I'm great," he said, voice rather shaky for someone who was 'great.'

"He's just nervous about his date." Sirius reached across the carriage to pat Peter on his shoulder, shaking him a little in his frail state. "You've got nothing to be worried about, mate."

"Yeah, Sirus is right," you agreed. "Remember, she asked you out because she wanted to spend time with you as you already are. Just be yourself."

Sirius nodded, before shifting his focus to you. "And what about you? You nervous for your date with Vance?"

You shrugged. "Maybe before, but I think I'm alright now." You smiled thinly. "I already talked it out with Lily and Marlene in our dorm getting ready."

"So that's what you ladies do up there?" Sirius asked, and you frowned. "Thought there'd be more pillowfights in your underwear."

You made a nauseated expression as Sirius grinned at his own joke. "You're disgusting," you scolded, though Peter had let a smile overtake his face at the joke and you figured maybe it was worth it.

Remus was shaking his head as well from next to you, the corners of his mouth teasing upwards. You turned forward again, James straight in your line of vision, but it didn't even seem he was listening to the conversation at hand, head aimed out the side of the carriage. He looked more distant than ever as he sat tensely and you had to fight the urge to reach out to him. You knew all too well what would come from that.

You let your focus slip onto other things, like the wind that was brushing against your exposed arms and moving your hair slightly in the wind. You fought a shiver, bringing your hands up to rub at the sides of your arms—you were sure you had goosebumps.

For the second time that morning, like he was reading your mind, you watched as James held out his arm towards you, though this time he was holding something in his hand instead: his coat. It was brown on the outside, a light jacket that was lined with a soft flannel fabric, one that you always thought looked dashing on him. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take it.

You faltered from surprise and then shook your head. "I'm alright," you said softly, pursing your lips.

"You're practically shivering," James pointed out, tipping out his chin at you. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your own jacket from you, James. It's chilly."

"Exactly," he said, catching you in your lie. "And you're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you."

You looked up from the jacket he was offering, if you could call it an offer, and at him, seeing the stubborn hold of his jaw and yet the sincere gloss of his eyes. Because you knew he wouldn't let you say no anyway now that you'd admitted it was chilly, you took it from his hand.

You wrapped the too-big coat over your shoulders, grateful but perhaps hateful of the way it immediately warmed you like the lighting of a fireplace. It smelt warm and comforting like a fireplace too, or maybe that was just the fact that it was James's jacket and he always smelled strangely nice. You blinked at yourself, chasing away your thoughts that were certainly not appropriate, considering you were currently on your way to a date with a different boy.

In all your thinking, it was like you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up again, but James already had gone back to staring out at the moving scenery. You couldn't read him right then, and if there was anything you'd learned about James from all the years you'd known him, it was that you could always read him, even when others couldn't. The fact that you hadn't been able to read him for days was worrying you sick and setting you off all at once. You just wished you could get inside his head.

You sighed, your eyes shifting over to Remus, who was giving you the oddest of looks. The corners of his eyes crinkled, though his lips stayed shut together. You raised a brow and he only shrugged, looking away again. You really needed to get inside that boy's head, too.

Before you could even mull over the different possibilities of ways that your up-and-coming date could go wrong, a habit of your mind that you hated, the carriage had pulled up into Hogsmeade. It came to a slow stop next to the uniquely shaped brick buildings you'd become all too familiar with over the years. That didn't take away from the excitement bubbling inside your stomach—or maybe that was nervousness; you couldn't tell anymore.

All five of you exited the carriage, James offering you his hand again as you took the big step onto the ground. You were growing too frustrated to even consider the feeling of your hand in his larger one that somehow was still as warm as the jacket you wore. How he could be so sweet yet so aggravatingly aloof you didn't know, but you forced your mind off the topic once again. Only, you couldn't force thoughts of James away completely, because he was calling your name as soon as you'd walked past him.

Your head turned to him so swiftly it almost made you dizzy. He was standing there along the side of a building you identified as The Three Broomsticks, hands now shoved into his trouser pockets with his head slightly tipped forward, though he stood up straighter as you made your way to him.

"Yeah?" you questioned, and maybe your tone was testy, but you didn't have it in you to alter it for his sake.

James shifted his footing underneath your gaze, taking a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The pull of your brows let up at his words and you observed his facial expressions shamelessly, sorting through what to say. Luckily, he spoke again before you could.

"I'm sorry for making you take the carriage ride into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. You should've just gone with your date. I was just in an ... off mood last night. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

And just like that, the hope you were harboring when James had first uttered the word 'sorry' had bubbled and churned inside of you until all that was left was dissatisfaction.

"Is that all?" you questioned.

James's lips parted. "What?"

"I mean, I'm grateful for your apology," you breathed the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "But is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Apologize for?"

James scratched his head almost comically, and you laughed without any humor as you began to turn around. Before you could take a single step, James grasped your wrist in his fingertips, and you fought not to notice how feather-light he held onto you.

"Like what?" he asked you, and at your stone expression he dropped your hand. "Please," he insisted.

You swallowed and shrugged up your shoulders irritatedly. "Oh, I don't know James, maybe the fact that you've been acting 'off' this whole week and won't say a word as to why?" You took the hand he'd held and put it to your forehead. "I've probably asked you if you were okay about a dozen times and all you can say to me is that you're 'fine' when you're clearly ticked off."

"Because that's the truth," James insisted.

"Please," you remarked. "It's not the truth. Don't lie to me, James. I know you. Better than anyone else, and I know when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset, alright?" James squinted at you. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because!" You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself because this was not the drama-free morning you wanted to have. "Because, every time I've been down, which has been too many times to count, you've been there for me. Always."

You thought back to the night you realized you loved him as more than just a friend, when he'd comforted you through your tears so quickly and sweetly, and it only made you feel more exasperated.

"So I'm not just going to 'let it go' when something's so obviously bothering you, enough to make you act completely differently to the point where you won't even talk to me." You paused, noticing the sinking in James's gaze the more you spoke. "And quite frankly," you continued, "it hurts like hell that you don't think you can tell me what's been going on, because you can. We're supposed to be best friends, remember?"

James let out a low breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff that had your forehead pulling. "Trust me, I remember."

"Then why the hell won't you just talk to me?" Your palms were facing him, telling him it was his move, his turn to try and fix things.

"Because there's nothing to say." He'd thrown away his turn without a second glance, running a fast hand through his hair. "God, this was a mistake. Every time I talk to you, I just-" he stopped himself.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. "You just what?"

James shook his stubborn head, a muscle in his jaw noticeably flexing. "Nothing, alright?" He looked upwards, like he was battling something greater than him, and began walking towards wherever the hell James Potter went when he didn't want to talk to you. You weren't going to let him.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for, James?" He halted his steps, turning his head back towards you with a rigid look in his eyes. "How long are you going to avoid me?"

"Avoid you?" he laughed, and you froze. "That's rich, coming from you of all people."

You clamped your jaw shut for a beat, blinking at him as your mind started to spin. "What are you talking about?" You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm talking about when you were avoiding me just a few days ago. Ring a bell?"

You lowered your gaze, confidence stuttering. You didn't respond.

"I mean, you wouldn't even partner with me Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake."

"That was different," you argued, though you were ashamed of how pathetic the words sounded coming from your lips.

"How?" James asked, staring at you fearlessly now with raised, expectant brows and an unmoving jaw.

"It ... it just is!" You looked away. "We're getting off track. My point was that ... I just miss you, James." The irony of your warm words contrasted with the angry shake of your lips didn't escape you. "I miss the James who wouldn't push me away every time I tried to have a conversation with him, or who wouldn't act like a bloody child every time I mention I'm going on a date."

If you thought you saw a crack of guilt racking James's expression, there was no trace of it now.

"Oh yeah?" he questioned, his tone colder than you'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry I don't like talking about your beloved Sebastian every five minutes."

"Well it's not like I can talk to you about anything else, can I?" Your heart was thumping in your chest and you felt like crying. "You know what?" You chewed on the inside of your cheek, turning away. "I give up! Let's just talk whenever you're ready to be honest with me."

Your back was to him when he shouted, "You want me to be honest?" You scoffed, nodding your head. "That's what you want?" he repeated.

"Yes James!" you shouted. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Well then, fine!" He wiped a desperate hand over his face, throwing up his arms. "We kissed, alright?"

Your heart sizzled somewhere in your chest beneath your stilled lungs, every part of you halting its movements. Your expression fell slowly and you blinked at him, staring wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

James stared back at you, looking at you more than he'd looked at you in the past week altogether. The opposite of yours, his chest heaved up and down like he'd been fighting for air and could only now come up for oxygen. He didn't look like he'd misspoken and that scared you more than anything.

"We kissed. Last week. At the party."

Your lips hung, parted and confused. "What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We kissed, and you ran off, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

Your eyes felt like they had a mind of their own, scanning rapidly over James and then looking at the ground, your heeled shoes, anywhere but at him because your world was shifting around you, the walls of what you thought you knew crumbling down on you.

You swallowed, throat going dry. "James," you voiced carefully. "That kiss was ..." you shook your head. "We were playing a game."

Maybe he would take the slowness of your words for sureness rather than struggle, because that along with seemingly every other emotion was what you were feeling inside.

"No, c'mon. Don't do that." James shook his head back at you and you felt like running away, but you couldn't now. Not when he was looking at you like that. "Don't try and make it seem like that was all it was, because it wasn't. Not for me, and I know it meant more to you too."

The cool breeze from before had picked up and was turning into an inexorable wind that made you feel worse than you already did. Could he see the way you had to stop yourself from shaking? Hear the way you willed your heartbeat to stop pounding? Clearly not, because he kept talking.

"For days, weeks even, all that's been on my mind was you. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

You felt dizzy with the way he was staring into your eyes. Like you'd voiced to yourself a million times, how James held eye contact so effortlessly was a mystery you'd never find the answer to.

"And I know you said you wanted to just pretend like the kiss never happened, but you should know that I can't do that, alright? Trust me. I've tried, and obviously that didn't work." He ran a hand through his tousled hair again. "So I just ... I need you to say something to me. Anything."

You willed yourself to speak again, blood rushing past your ears now. "I ... I don't know what to say. It was a part of a game."

James practically flinched. "Anything but that." He breathed out a laugh without any chest, tipping his head back and taking steps around. "God."

You still felt like crying, because nothing was making sense. Then James refocused on you, and you felt pinned underneath his gaze.

"You can tell me it was part of a game however many times you want." His words were achingly slow and desperate. "But tell me ... just tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed. That it meant absolutely nothing to you, and I'll stop talking. I promise."

You knew he meant what he said; you could see it all through his hazel eyes. You'd asked for honesty and you'd gotten it. You knew that you couldn't lie to him anymore, and you said your truth with your voice was on the verge of breaking.

"I can't." Even if your voice shook, James heard it loud and clear. He stopped moving and stepped closer to you whether he noticed or not. "But that doesn't mean it can mean anything now."

If it was possible, he went even more still. His eyes pleaded with you to say more to him, so you did. "It's not fair, James." Your voice broke off, and James took both your hands in his, and held them tight near his chest, like hope pumped through them.

"What? What's not fair, Love?"

You flinched at the name you hadn't heard in seemingly forever, but it pinched at the part of your brain that remembered it vividly. You didn't know how this moment was real. You looked down at his hands that engulfed yours. "It's not fair that it meant something, because it can't."

You pretended not to notice the way James's hands loosened their hold. "Not when-" your voice hitched at the sign of your eyes blurring despite how much you'd willed them not to. "Not after I spent months—years, even—trying to make every interaction between us mean something. After I spent all that time trying to get over you! It- it's not fair, and I won't do it. I won't."

You shook your head timidly and repeatedly like it would stop what was happening. You didn't know when you and James had moved away from each other, probably somewhere between your voice breaking and your eyes watering, but you had. But that wasn't was most important.

James had gone eerily still, painfully silent. That didn't change the fact that his unforgiving eyes continued to search what seemed like every inch of your face. His voice rang out lowly.

"Get over me?" His heavy brows furrowed in hurt and bewilderment. "Wh-" he choked. "What do you mean 'get over me'?"

You put a hand to your head, amused in your disbelief. "Like you haven't known."

James took a persistent step forward, the pinch between his brows desperate. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This all felt like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. You forced yourself to breathe. "I really can't do this right now, I-" You didn't think you could do it ever. You pulled at the hem of your dress. "I have a date."

Even with the wind whipping against you both, you'd never heard a silence like the one you did right then.

"You're really still going on that date?" James peered at you interrogatingly, his eyes slightly red now, and it killed you.

"What am I supposed to do, James?"

You wiped at your nose. James's hands were elevated at his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, but didn't. He looked like he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't stop.

"You can't just go running away all because ..." he panted, "because..." His voice trailed off.

You wanted to shout at him that all you'd done since forever was stop yourself from running away, but you didn't. It wasn't his fault you'd tortured yourself all these years. But that didn't mean he could get his happy ending with the snap of his fingers, either.

Just to twist the knife in your chest, he whispered, "Please."

You dropped your gaze low to the cobblestone ground beneath your feet, blurry now through your lashes. "I need to go." The sight of him standing before you, eyes watery and lips parted helplessly, sent painful pangs through your heart. You moved your head, willing yourself to turn away and your legs to move. You didn't think you could leave if you looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Those same eyes followed you as you walked down the path, head hung low but steps quickening despite. Steps taken in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, where you'd go on your date with Sebastian. Your mind kicked and screamed at you at every step, but you couldn't get them to stop.

You felt James's eyes on your retreating form like you felt the wind snapping against your cheeks, though you didn't turn back to look at him. That way, he wouldn't be able to see the way your expression shook at the effort of just trying to keep yourself together.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @cloudroomblog @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @kenjikishimotoswifey @the-marauders-mapp

[sleepiereblogs]

Oh god oh god oh god you beautiful creature I almost started crying wtf.

How do you somehow manage to fulfill the yearning I’ve had for someone to find out only for it to still end on a cliffhanger? I love them and their repeated refusal to just talk about their problems. Mister Sebastian Vance how I feel so so sorry for you but also want you to do something evil so everything can be simple again. Uggghhh these emotions you have me feeling 😩.

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You

james potter x fem!reader

NEW! Series

summary - You've known golden-boy James Potter for as long as you can remember. Though you don't just know him—he's your very best friend. But there's just one problem: you've fallen deeply, madly in love with him. Or two problems, if you count his thing for your friend Lily Evans. As time goes by, all you want is to get over him. Although, James seems set on making that the most impossible challenge of them all.

tags: James Potter x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (or is it), "why are you pushing me away?", some miscommunication, Marauder!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, and a kiss that changed everything.

warnings: underage drinking, some mild cursing, occasional innuendo, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n

a/n: this story has been a long time in the making ... but I'm very excited for it to be out! I'll be releasing chapters periodically (not on a set schedule) but dw there won't be any long waits -> with that being said, happy reading !! hope you guys enjoy <3 - e

check this out on my ao3!

comment, message me, or send in an ask to be added to the taglist!!

*masterlist

read here:

Chapter 1 ->

Chapter 2 ->

Chapter 3 ->

Chapter 4 ->

Chapter 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 ->

Chapter 8 ->

Chapter 9 -> *coming soon ...

[sleepiereblogs]

Reposted without a note earlier bc I was pinched on time but I wanted to come back with praise!!

Eating this series up, the pining from both parties is so delicious especially since it’s paired with the miscommunication trope 😋. And the buildup of the both of them just being really bitchy and moody since they won’t talk about their feelings has me on the edge of my seat, I’m so excited to see everything boil over into yelling or an explosive fight or something :))

The mc is so insanely relatable, her deny deny deny strategy is the same shit I have pulled time and time again I’m so ngl. Genuinely I feel like 100% she is me, the crush on a friend, not wanting to ruin that friendship by confessing, hell even right down to the friends practically begging her to just confess (gotta love Marlene). Like you snuck into my house to write a callout post in the form of a beautifully written James Potter fic 😭.

And speaking of Marlene (or rather mc’s friends in general), I love the parallel to the overarching theme of miscommunication with Lily being out of the loop. It’s just a really nice touch to watch mc squirm because Marlene is the only one who officially knows her feelings so she’s the only one being gentle about the topic. I think it’s a really nice side plot and I wonder if that’ll ever come into any bigger plotline.

Anyways, just wanted to gush about how much I have enjoyed this fic so far! Was a really nice surprise that chapters 7 and 8 were uploaded just as I finished chapter 6 lol. Like I’ve said, I’m super excited to see where this goes!

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

modern restaurant au, and you’re the newest member of the team! tags: james x fem!reader, server!james, bartender!sirius, chef!remus, server!lily, server!marlene, hostess!mary, ooc!remus, hothead!remus, server!reader, anxious!reader, coworker!marauders, modern au, restaurant au, muggle au

⟢ part 1. welcome in it's your first day on the job and james is your trainer

⟢ part 2. james' girl after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his

⟢ part 3. graduation james finds the conclusion of your training bittersweet

⟢ part 4. smoke break neither you nor james smoke, but remus does

[sleepiereblogs]

Can’t get enough of the marauders restaurant au ☺️☺️

[ellecdc]

oh wooow…. I just found your chef!sirius and I think you unlocked a new favorite au for me! I’ve always been more of a james girlie but your sirius, especially your chef!sirius has me feeling all types of ways. do you have anything more for him and reader planned? I’d love to read more about them and their dynamic he’s been so sweet on her at a&e and the lip biting thing has made me think of plenty of unholy things they could do.

so excited to read more of them! or reread chef!sirius if you don’t plan on adding more. 🤍🤍🤍

I love them, your honour. Also, omg it's happening!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for your sweet words, babes <3

chef!Sirius x mixologist!reader who have their first date [2.5k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

CW: reader is anxious as fuck about the date, we actually don't talk about Jeffery even once in this so sorry to all our Jeffery Stans (or haters) out there xoxoxo

A date.

An actual date.

And if it went well; your first date.

God did you hope it went well.

You’d been rightfully wary about the prospect of dating a coworker but you had to admit it was growing increasingly difficult (and extremely tiresome) pretending you weren’t completely gone for the cantankerous chef who seemed to only soften for you. 

Thankfully it seemed he was just as gone for you, which at least meant it would only be slightly awkward if it didn’t go well and not see you dying from embarrassment. 

What you hadn’t been prepared for, however, was how difficult taking a noteworthy chef out for a dinner date would turn out to be. 

Every restaurant you had suggested (though Sirius had insisted he would go anywhere with you) was either owned by someone he knew and was in direct competition with, someone he knew and didn’t like, or someone he knew and felt their food was no good. 

So you had made - what you were sure was a brilliant idea at the time - the horrible suggestion of just having him over to your flat for dinner. 

Great.

Terrible. 

Because now you were responsible for preparing a meal for that same noteworthy chef who got paid to spend day after day shouting at his kitchen staff for their “sad excuses for artistic plating” and “terrible passes at edible food”. 

Stupid, stupid girl. 

You warily eyed the sauce you had set aside for your tomato basil pasta as you stirred the store bought pasta on the stove.

What were you thinking!? Two of the seven ingredients (not including the bloody pasta) was in the sodding title. 

You were going to simply throw up. 

But the sound of an assured knock on the door felt like a buzzer ringing loud and obnoxiously at the end of a game - you were officially out of time.

Or were you?

Could you cancel? Tell him you were feeling poorly?

The fact that he had showed up at your sodding house with various essentials a mere few weeks ago told you no, you couldn’t cancel.

You smoothed out your shirt with shaky hands as you moved towards your front door. 

You saw this man almost everyday; you worked with him, and when you weren’t working with him, you were often commuting home with him or finding some other excuse to be in each other’s company.

So why were you nervous?

You opened the door to expose him; standing tall in all his fair skin, tattooed, storm-cloud eyes, inky-black hair artfully tied back in a way that screamed “I hardly tried” that you could never accomplish no matter how hard you tried glory.

Oh right.

That’s why you were nervous. 

“Hey there.” He greeted you softly; eyes roving over your form in much the same way yours had just done as you clocked in on the bouquet of flowers hanging casually in his hand. 

You had to wipe your now clammy hands off on your shirt again. 

“Hey.” You said belatedly, earning you a smirk from your date. “Erm, sorry, come in.” You chuckled awkwardly as you moved out of his way and granted him access to your flat. 

“Smells great!” He offered earnestly, pausing to turn to you and gesture to the flowers. “Can you tell me where I can find a vase for these?”

“I can take those!” You began, reaching forward only to have him move them up and out of your reach with a smile on his face.

“Can you tell me where I can find a vase for these?” He repeated softly, taking the hand you had been reaching for the bouquet with in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Your brain worked overtime to keep your knees from buckling and directing him to the third cupboard from the left. 

He looked jarringly at home in your kitchen; shucking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of a stool before grabbing a vase from the appropriate cupboard and beginning a search through your drawers for a pair of scissors.

You had to remind yourself that he was a chef and it was his job to look at home in a kitchen; that was his domain.

You realised then that he had been speaking to you. 

“I’m so sorry, what was that?”

“I was only saying that I looked it up and made sure that these were safe for cats.” He said simply as he fluffed the bouquet in its new home and moved it to the centre of the counter with a satisfied smile. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Sirius.” You cooed somewhat embarrassingly. “I would have fought Birdie over them even if they weren’t.” 

Sirius let out one of his notorious barks of laughter (that half the staff insisted you were making up) that immediately left you feeling more at ease. 

“Well, no fighting required.” He said as he moved towards you, widening his stance so that he was closer to your height and wrapping his arms around your middle. “Thank you for having me.”

“Thank you for coming.” You smiled back; officially lost in the overwhelming beauty of this adonis who willingly accepted spending one of his precious evenings off with you. 

“I think your pasta might be done.” He whispered then, causing you to startle slightly and scramble from his grasp towards the stove.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked as he followed you over.

“No!” You shouted at first, immediately embarrassed as you opted to pretend the heat of your face was a product of the steam from the pasta. “No, just, erm, go sit down.”

He backed out of your kitchen with a flirty smile on his lips as he accepted your direction.

Now you could understand why he was always yelling at people in his kitchen. 

You were astounded that you didn’t simply melt into goo under his steady gaze as you worked, but you were finally bringing the finished pasta to the table and sitting across from him.

“I apologise in advance; I’m not the cook you are.” You offered as you handed him the spoon to serve himself first. 

He gave you an odd look as he reached over and filled your plate first before his own. “No sorry needed, doll. When someone feeds me, I say thank you.”

You let out a breathy laugh as you picked up your fork. “Oh!” You nearly shouted, kneeing the table in your haste to stand causing you to have to catch a cup before it toppled. “Buggering fuck, sorry.” You apologised quickly, thanking every god known to mankind that you didn’t dump his plate or glass onto him. “Sorry, I forgot the asiago.” 

You opened the fridge and shoved your head into it feigning a search for the cheese when you really needed to cool down and take some steadying breaths.

You were fine, this was fine. 

Just fine.

Except that you had a stupid sexy tattooed chef sitting at your dining room table waiting for you to bring him the sodding asiago. 

You closed the fridge with a little too much force and heard some errant condiment tip over in the shelves behind you; you’d deal with that later. 

“This smells really good, doll.” He offered again, spreading the forsaken cheese over his pasta before loading a fork full and bringing it to his lips. 

You held your breath as you watched him chew; his brows furrowed before he nodded and let out an appreciative hum.

 “Very good; nicely done, gorgeous.” 

You smiled shyly at the praise and took your own bite.

It was good.

But surely it could be better? 

Should you have put more garlic in? The five cloves were already 3-4 more than the family recipe called for. And was there enough salt?

You definitely overcooked the pasta. 

The store bought pasta.

Fuck. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from your spiralling to see Sirius watching you cautiously. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing! Sorry.” You chuckled and began picking at your food. “Sorry, how was your day?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as he weighed whether or not he was going to let you brush past his question.

Apparently, you looking nervously down at his fork solidified his decision.

“That’s it.” He said as he put his fork down. “Come’ere.”

And before you could protest, he had one of the legs of your chair in his hand and was pulling you over to him. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” He asked as he brushed a lock of your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” You offered more confidently. 

Sirius hummed in faux consideration. “I call bullshit.”

You let out a defeated sigh and looked down at your hands in your lap. “I….I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve made a mistake.”

Sirius was quiet for a few moments as you picked at your thumb nail and tried to ignore the stinging behind your eyes.

“Agreeing to spend tonight with me?” He asked softly then, causing you to look up so quickly that you heard your neck crack. 

“No! No! No, Sirius, not- not you, not this.” You assured him quickly, pulling one of his hands into both of yours. “I feel ridiculous.”

“‘Bout what?” He asked with reservation, though he considered your face with a look of concern clouding his own. 

“I can’t believe I tried cooking for you.” You bemoaned then, feeling that traitorous stinging behind your eyes turn into glossiness along your lash line. 

You watched in abject horror as Sirius’ face fell completely blank before he burst into laughter.

You were wrong, you were completely and utterly wrong; this really could end in you dying of humiliation. 

You were going to have to quit your job. You’d have to move back in with your parents. You’d have to change your number. You’d have-

“Doll, hey, hey wait!” Sirius managed to get out between hearty laughs as you tried pulling your hands away from him. “Wait! No no no, babe, listen.”

You let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob and pointedly kept your gaze at your lap; perhaps not the greatest option because from this vantage point all you could see was your hands in his which left you aching with want. 

One of his hands disappeared as it moved to your chin when he forced you to look at him.

“Do you know what I would be eating at home if I was alone right now?” He asked you around an incredibly handsome cheeky smile. 

You shook your head once which resulted in one traitorous tear spilling from your lashes, stealing Sirius’ silver gaze from your eyes as his thumb moved to catch it. 

“Maybe packaged ramen?” He replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Except I wouldn’t have cooked it.”

“What?” You choked out through a wet laugh.

“I wouldn’t have cooked it.” He repeated. “I would have crushed the noodles, opened the bag, sprinkled the seasoning on top of it and given it a shake and then would have eaten it from the bag.”

“That’s awful.”

“It is awful!” He agreed readily. “And do you know when the last time someone cooked for me was?”

You shook your head again. 

“Neither do I.” 

You both chuckled and he let his hand fall away from your chin where it joined your own again in your lap. 

“I cook all day long for everyone else and I usually can’t be arsed to cook for myself when the time comes. When I visit friends and family, they usually prefer having food prepared by a chef and I can’t bring myself to deny them because I love them and love cooking for them, so, this really is a treat. Not only did I not have to make it, it is also very good. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know you could cook, so I was prepared to eat frozen pizza which still would have been an upgrade from my dry ramen.” 

You let out a breath in faux reluctance as you purveyed your set up. It did smell really good. 

“Did I completely botch this date?” You asked teasingly, though when you looked back at Sirius his gaze was as soft as butter left in the sun. 

“Absolutely not.” He whispered, leaning imperceptibly closer to you. “This is actually turning out better than I could have imagined.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as your eyes - without your consent - fell to his lips. “Yeah? Spend a lot of time imagining dates with me?”

“The majority of my time, actually.” He agreed easily, inching even closer to you. 

“And how do they usually end?”

Sirius shook his head no as his eyes moved to your own lips. “I don’t imagine that; I don’t imagine having to say goodbye.”

“No?”

“No.” 

“What do we do instead of saying goodbye, then?”

His eyes moved up to your own at that; neither of your daring to breathe as he searched your eyes for some kind of answer.

Well, you’d give him one.

Your answer came in the form of you closing the distance between you two and pressing your lips to his; he tasted a little bit like the mint gum you knew he chewed to avoid smelling like cigarettes, and he also tasted a bit like your pasta.

Your pasta, that you made for him. 

That he liked. 

And somewhere under all of that; somewhere under the mint and the tomato-basil-garlic, he tasted quite a bit like home. 

You weren’t sure who broke the kiss, but suddenly the two of you were connected by your foreheads as you took a heavy breath. 

“Usually that.” He answered breathlessly, earning him a laugh as you lowered your head only for him to pull it back up to press another kiss to your lips. “Can we eat this really good pasta that someone so graciously made for me now?” 

You laughed at him again and prepared to move your chair back to the other side of the table only for Sirius to reach over you and grab your plate so that you were sitting directly beside him instead. 

The two of you fell into your usual and comfortable repertoire then; his hand never leaving your knee under the table as the two of you talked about nothing and everything.

“Did you really not think I could cook?” You asked him  as you watched him clear off your table for you because “you cooked doll, it’s only fair.” 

You swore you noticed a slight dusting of pink on his cheek bones as he busied himself with loading your dishwasher. 

“Erm, no…actually. I never imagined goodbyes, and I never imagined you cooking.”

And though you wouldn’t find out until much, much later in your relationship; Sirius really didn’t think you could cook because the version of you in his head didn’t need to, that’s what he was for.

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 16

wordcount: 8,613

(Yeah, don't listen to me when I say I'll update soon; I'm a giant fuckin liar. Srry oops ♡)

   It was the next evening in Woodsboro. Barely a day after the tragedy that hit this town once again for the first time since the 90's. Dewey had to make a press statement as Sheriff and or the one in charge of the case. In a 24 hour period, on top of the killings that already took place, he had to state the victim's of this senseless brutality. 6 victims dead in the last 24 hours, 1 suspect dead and multiple injured…And 3 suspects missing.

After stating the victims names outside the hospital…He warily looked up a few times in case of…Well. In case of freaking falling corpses like what happened with YN's publicists a few short days ago. He then gave the conclusion of his speech to wrap up this chaos that seemed to never end. Anxiety biting at him. Feeling like a young boy displaying a D minus grade card in front of the whole class…

He subtly licked his lips a bit and swallowed hard as he tried to think. His mouth was incredibly dry all the sudden as he tried to force out what needed to be said to make his town feel reassured.

 “...Citizen's of Woodsboro...This was a senseless and awful tragedy. The threat is under control-”

The press yelled out mid sentence, “Sheriff Riley! But it took how many lives to get it under control? Why didn't the police act sooner?” 

Dewey fumbled, a tight expression on his face as he spoke into the mic, “Our deputies tried tirelessly and it took us longer than we expected. It's not easy trying to find someone in a mask-” 

“Why was a party allowed last night where one person was found dead?” Someone else demanded.

“He was…The victim was killed after and we…We didn't know of the party or we'd shut it down! Obviously just-” He stammered and tried to calm himself. 

Dewey was still reeling. Anytime he thought of that party; he'd forever see the dead lifeless eyes of Randy's corpse. He spaced out a moment with all the questions, all the accusations. Judy and a few others looked at him to give an answer to the overbearing crowd. 

He rolled his teeth over his bottom lip and decided to just cut the crap and say what he needed. Because this was too much. It was all too damn much. He didn't even get the courtesy of mourning Randy's death and YN's betrayal without being strong for the entire World.

He spoke up again. Ignoring the questions to cut to the chase.

“Young kids with their entire lives ahead of them died this week. Good hardworking men just trying to provide for their families. Just trying to make a life for themselves and their loved ones. All 3 very good friends of mine.” A hushed whisper sounded in the microphone as Dewey's face scrunched thinking of his two detectives and Randy. “A woman that…” He faltered, gazing at the hospital behind him and gestured with his hand. “...Whose body was thrown onto a news van right here.” 

His voice caught a bit of tense anger as he pointed his finger at the podium while speaking. “Even my own wife, Gale Riley formerly Gale Weathers, was stabbed in the shoulder last night. All of this…It…” He got tongue tied once more before taking a deep breath. A fine line between showing strength and being pitiful he had a hard time treading right now. 

All eyes on him as he could feel the heat from the lights and see his reflection in cameras. 

He looked at the crowd to let it sink in with a pause to catch his bearings. Only the mic ringing from being too close to it, sounded along with cameras clicking.

 “...As your Sheriff, I took this job under oath to make sure that 1996 never happened in this town again. It may have happened at Windsor College in Ohio or in Hollywood but not here in our quiet and peacefully small California town.” He paused, gazing at the crowd. Tired. Dark downset eyes cast heavily at all the microphones and lights. At the cameras recording his every move. His every failure. All he ever wanted was to protect the innocent and in his eyes he failed miserably.

He took a breath and took off his hat. “Which is why… I'm resigning as Sheriff. I take full responsibility for my department's failure in stopping this before it became too late. That's not on my deputies but on me. Their lives are on my hands and I can't express enough remorse.” 

Chatter erupted as so many reporters badgered to ask questions. Judy's jaw dropped. Her standing by having recovered from her vest protecting her this morning. She looked flabbergasted at his resignation as well as a few other deputies.  

He descended off the small makeshift stage near the podium. 

So many voices. A man yelling, “Sheriff Riley! Why are you resigning? Do you think your actions killed those kids?” 

“Because it's time for someone else to take over. Someone new.” Was all Dewey gave as he tried to make his way to the hospital doors. 

“Sheriff Riley! Sheriff! Can you give out the name's of the suspects and give a final statement on their identities? Are they apprehended or deceased?” A female reporter pressed as he got

“Not at this time we can't make a statement. But they are under control.” He tried shoving past as Judy and a few others forced the vulture media back. 

He heard a woman ask, “Where's YN!? Sheriff Riley, is YN alive?” 

He froze at the door…

Of course they'd ask. YN was an American icon. You couldn't see the mask without the survivor who seemed to be attacked every time. Her name is always gracing the headlines. Her book on survival was a New York Times Best Seller last year. Of course, with everyone else accounted for, they were dying to know where the IT girl was? Where was the final girl? Where was YN? 

And Dewey couldn't answer. Not right now, as he shoved through the hospital doors while Judy and a few other deputies held the media back. All before Judy ran after the man she worshiped once fully inside.

“Sheriff!” She called out, her feet thudding in the quiet hospital hallway. “Sheriff, wait-” 

Dewey stopped and turned to give her a sad smile, holding his hat in his hands. “It's just Dewey now, Deputy.”

He felt like a kicked puppy. A small child. A weak man. Standing there forcing a smile while his chest ached and he rang his hat in his hands. 

Judy spiraled. Big eyes buggier in appearance and mouth open trying to find excuses.

 “This wasn't your fault! If Gal- Mrs. Riley, had followed police protocol an-and Mr. Meeks and Miss YN would have had more faith in you and-” She rushed out in a stammer. Trying to reason with him. But his mind was made up.

“Listen…” He softly gave. His dark eyes softened as well matching his tone. “It is. Randy and…They were right. Gale was right. There were so many mistakes I made that could've saved a lot more people had I not been so darn eager to follow the books.” 

“The books are in place for a reason. They save lives.” She furiously shook her head, thin blonde brows scrunched in distress. “You can't resign! You can't; Woodsboro needs you. We need you…I need you.” 

“No.” Dewey sighed and kept that smile of resignation. “No. You don't Judy. You're one of the best officers I've had the pleasure of working with. In fact, it won't shock me if you become Sheriff one day.” 

“Sheriff…” She looked touched. “But Sheriff Riley-” 

“Ah, it's Dewey please.” He corrected her with a warm oblivious smile.

“Dewey…” She said his name with sincere fondness. Inching closer as her small stature looked up at him. “I…You were, are, the best Sheriff. The best boss. A good friend and…I can't help feeling…Well more…” 

“...More?” Dewey raised a brow. “Like family?”

“No like…Like you deserve better.” She got even closer. “Like, if you and I are apart I'd feel like the world isn't right. I care about you…I just wish Gale and others treated you the way you deserve.” She whispered just getting closer standing on her toes.

“Well, I care about you too, Judy. You're a very good friend.” He gave in a much more casual tone than she did. 

He just thought she was a bright eyed young woman looking for a big brother figure. He always thought Gale was overreacting when she got jealous. 

"Wes is…Wes admires you. He loves when you drive him around in the police car sometimes.” 

Dewey smirked, “Yeah, he's a good boy. Gonna be just like his Mom one day.” 

“But what if he could have someone more…Masculine to look up to? A man around the house. A father figure.” 

Dewey looked confused where she was going but mumbled, “Well, that would be a good idea. A boy needs his Dad and all... Well, or a Dad.” 

“Exactly…” She gazed at him in a way that it seemed his brain was finally clicking wasn't appropriate. “And what if…” She softened her voice. “That father figure could be someone he already knows?” 

She leaned up, her lips going in as Dewey looked down with a confused look.

 For the first time he was taken aback at her display. “Deputy Judy?” He gasped out and stepped away out of reflex.

“Dewey!” 

Gale's voice rang out down the hall. Judy stepped back with a blush and Dewey instinctively took 2 more steps away just to be safe. 

“Gale! What are you doing?” Dewey cleared his throat and quickly asked. “You should be in bed.” He commented seeing his injured wife in fashionable attire and heels instead of a hospital gown with her injured shoulder. 

“I'm free to go. Even if I'm not, I'm not staying in a hospital just laying in bed for a shoulder wound. I can do that at home.” She waved him off.

Gale gave an annoyed look at Judy as Judy's flushed face soured at the other female. Gale raised a brow and demanded, “You mind giving me space with my husband, Deputy.” More rhetorical than an actual question.

Judy scowled before looking at Dewey, “Take care, Dewey. I'll make sure everything is in order.” 

Judy marched off and Gale raised a brow, “The hell was that?” 

“N-Nothing.” Dewey mumbled with his eyes downcast; unsure how to tell his wife he was no longer Sheriff.  Judy's odd attempt was the least of his concerns. 

“Whatever.” Gale mumbled and urgently tried to tell her husband, “Look, I just got off the phone with Karla. She said she talked to YN, so if you just track-” 

“...Gale.” Dewey tried saying but as she kept talking he sighed and subtly rolled his tense shoulders.

She continued, “- And if we get to actually talk to YN, we can find out just how involved she was and get to ‘you know who’. Both of them. I can also prove to you that-” 

“Gale.” He interrupted his wife. “I'm not Sheriff. This isn't my problem anymore.” 

…

At first Gale took it as a joke. Her head reeling back with that bewildered smirk before it slowly fell. “What?...Dewey, what? Whaddya mean you're not Sheriff!?” 

“Shh!” Dewey gently took her arm to go towards her room that she technically was not discharged from yet for some much needed privacy. Just a few doors away down the hall.

“Answer me, Dewey! You resigned? What the hell for?” She demanded not even all the way in the room yet.

“Because I failed, Gale.” He firmly replied. “I failed. I failed you, I failed Randy, I failed YN-” 

Gale rolled her eyes, “YN failed us.” 

Dewey didn't even argue with that. Eyes downcast with a deep frown. 

And for a hot minute. Dewey tried not to be too emotional near her today but he knew that his wife knew how much your betrayal killed him. In fact, this morning he went and sobbed violently in his police cruiser after staring numbly at the parking lot. Crying as much as he did when Tatum died. In a way, losing you was like losing another sister. He wasn't as close to you as Tatum, God no. Of course not. He didn't help raise you like he did her but damn…Did it still hurt.

She sighed, trying to find patience.

“...Dewey. I just think you're jumping the gun.” She looked about and gave a hissed whisper, “For fucksake. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are alive and free. YN knew they were and is with them somewhere. Even if she isn't helping them, then she's in danger. This is not the time to hang up the badge!” 

“Well it is for me.” He walked away from her to stand near the bed. “...I can't do it, Gale. It's gonna be hard to face anyone. To face Karla and Mindy and Chad and my Detective and Deputies family's…Jill.” 

“Pfft.” Gale blew air past her lips with an eye roll. 

Dewey raised his head, confused and offended. “What?” 

“...Doesn't make sense.” 

 “I know but we'll catch them. I shouldn't have let them go. I failed-” 

“No, damn it!... Jill.” Gale lowered her voice.

Dewey looked bewildered, “What about Jill?” 

Gale looked about, then whispered. “Let's just say, I don't think YN is telling the full story and neither is Jill Roberts.”

“Excuse me??” Dewey looked at his wife like she was crazy! Sweet Jill? What could she possibly be hiding? 

“She's lying, Dewey.” She reaffirmed. “They're both lying about different things…But just because YN was lying her ass off does not mean she was lying about Jill. Broken clock is right twice a day and all that.”

“Oh Gale! Are you seriously after another scoop? What? Like YN all over again. Going after a girl so much younger-” 

“And I was right about YN, wasn't I?!” Gale sauntered towards him angrily, “I have been in this line of work longer than you've been on the force, I was doing this when you were hitting puberty, and I can smell bullshit a mile away…Jill is a fucking liar.”

Dewey stuttered with an outraged glare, “That's!-... It's...Prove it, then. What makes you think Jill who was never even on Randy's suspect list could do something so awful.” He folded his arms raising a brow to try and look smug and sure of himself but it wasn't working very well.

She pointed to her phone in her notes app. “Times are not adding up, Dewey. How convenient Jill went to Kirby's when her Mom was murdered.” 

 “I can't believe you right now, that-” 

She glared at him with those icy blue eyes a foot from him. “Listen to me, damn it.” She practically growled through gritted teeth. “Jill called Kirby less than an hour before Kirby left her house; right? Kirby goes to the party for roughly 2 hours before Randy gets killed and the party is over. Jill is supposed to be grounded. She goes to Kirby's while Mrs. Roberts is murdered in front of Judy AFTER Perkins and Hoss are killed.” 

Dewey's expression soured at the thought. “Yeah, after Judy drops off YN, confiscates her gun and YN drove off during Mrs. Roberts murder…Guilt and evading probably. Especially if her buddies did it and…Randy.” He couldn't say their names without raging. Just couldn't.

Gale snapped her fingers. “Hey, you're not focusing on the right thing.” She pointed to her screen, “Look at the time frame…Where the fuck was Jill?” 

“She went to Kirby's.” 

“... When? Because if the timeline matches up; Kirby was still at the party when Perkins and Hoss were murdered. According to Jill; Kirby opened the door for her…Now, how the fuck is that possible unless Jill was at the house way sooner than she claims?” 

“A key?” 

Gale gave her husband a look, “Then that mean she's lyyyiinnggg.” She mocked with a ‘duh' expression. She urgently continued, “Kirby could not have opened the door for her AND her avoid the murders unless she was there for a long time. Mrs. Robert's acted like Jill was in her room…So how do we know she wasn't still at home? Now, if she was hiding from the killer, Judy and back up would've found her. She would've ran to them for help. She wouldn't have casually went to her fucking friends house near midnight after cops were killed and there was no way she could've drove by and not seen Perkins body…Unless…She was hiding from cops and fleeing the scene after she slit her own Mother's throat.” 

“Jesus Christ, Gale!” Dewey scoffed and paced the room, “That's insane! Do you even hear yourself? Are you…Are you suggesting Jill did this? Not Billy and Stu or Charlie but Jill?? That she killed her own mother!?” 

“Be quieter, would you?...Why not?” Gale demanded. She lowered her voice, almost pleading with him. “Dewey, you know as well as I do we both don't trust YN after last night. Okay? No shit. We don't. But YN's times add up against the killer unless she really was working with those guys…Okay, give you that. Or they did recruit Charlie. Fine, got it…But eyewitnesses saw Jill and Charlie getting hot and heavy near a park while she was supposed to be on again and off again with Trevor.” 

“How do you even know that?? And that's a breach of privacy on a teen girl's romantic life!” 

Gale shrugged the best she could with one shoulder, “I have my sources. It's teens; they talk. Besides, there is no privacy when you could be making out with a murderer…Charlie seemed to have a giant crush on Kirby but how convenient Trevor, Jill's ex, got by far the worst end of the shitty stick.” 

He grimaced, “...Like James in 1996.” 

“Uh huh.” Gale agreed. “We get it. They were recreating kills. But…Why James? Jealousy? From who? Charlie?...Jill? Why was Trevor assigned James' role? All roles add up so why him?” 

Dewey raised a brow. “To…Well…He was Jill's boyfriend? But…” 

“Yeah. Jill was the survivor…How would they know that?” 

Dewey stared. 

“Not only did Jill hold animosity towards him for cheating according to everyone but one of the girls first killed was supposedly his fling…And most of all…The implication."

"Implication?"

Gale grinned in excitement at him, "Jill was always meant to be YN! Not Kirby or YN herself. Jill. Jill survived because she was planning to fucking survive! Why the flying fucking Hell would she be spared by Billy and Stu?” 

“But she was barely conscious when we arrived on scene!” Dewey's head was spinning but he just couldn't quite believe what his wife was suggesting. It was diabolical! “S-she wasn't. They tried to kill her here in the hospital…” He quietly mumbled. His brain went in a direction he didn't like.

Gale ranted, “All their friend group, and somehow, in a house with two known murderers Jill got the least amount of damage other than YN and Kirby. We can't even count that because they got life threatening injuries while Jill and I got stabbed in the shoulder and roughed up…Why? To keep me alive to write a story and her too. Jill got banged up but nothing serious. Nothing that would kill her.” 

“But!...I-” He went to talk but faltered.

“Charlie got stabbed only one time directly in the chest. In a relaxed position to stab his heart. People fighting don't get stabbed like that! Dewey, you're an officer, you know that in order for Charlie to get that stab wound he had to be relaxed. Like…It was planned and either he let them stab him or he was betrayed and relaxed.”

Dewey opened and closed his mouth. Damn, he knew his wife got to the pit of a story but lord this was…

”Gale, then…Then that just means Billy and Stu betrayed their protégé! Right?...Right!?” He desperately pleaded, not wanting to go where Gale's mind was heading because it felt so far fetched to him.

Gale gnawed at her lip. She walked about the room a moment before lowering her voice and mumbling out. “I know it sounds insane but think about it. YN and those two assholes got just about hacked up yet they were the murderers? No fucking way knowing what we know; how did Jill fight off 3 people as a victim? 2 grown men and a grown woman with self defense training. If Jill was unarmed; How? How does a 5'2 teen girl with no weapon fight 2 grown men that were trying to kill her and they supposedly had knives and a gun?…There's no goddamn way, Dewey!” Gale smacked her phone on the bed getting riled up just talking about this.

Dewey swallowed and couldn't exactly come up with an argument.

Gale just paced the room, her heels clacking as she continued. “YN was miraculous enough to keep surviving these attacks over the years UNLESS…” Her face lit up in realization. “Son of a bitch…Unless she had help all these years. Oh my fucking God. I knew it! James and Tim. They don't fucking exist, they're just aliases for Billy and Stu. Windsor I saw them and fucking knew it, god damn it, I did! I bet they were in Hollywood too. It's how she survived two huge men attacking her.” Gale ranted in harsh whispers; almost elated as her brain was piecing things together perfectly to her.

Dewey had the picture of YN and them. Men that were strangers but now he realized was evidence of Billy and Stu. A lie he kept from his wife he didn't dare share now. He ran a hand over his face…It was too much. It was all speculation. It was…It was crazy! YN and Billy and Stu were what?? The victims? And Jill killed her own mother?! 

He replayed it…Billy and Stu not being the murderers this time. You lying is a misunderstanding for hiding them. Charlie and Jill being the real killers…Jill. Killing all her friends. Her own mother. Trying to kill YN alone it just-

“...No.” 

Gale scoffed with a sneer, “No??” 

“No. There's no way! No way Jill is in any way involved.” 

 “Are you joking?” Gale put her hand of her good arm on her hip, wincing when she moved. “Okay, but why would Jill know where I was stabbed when we hadn't seen each other or talked?...How Dewey? Explain that.” 

Dewey shook his head at the idea that the sweet teen girl he already felt protective over could do this instead of two known murderers. And YN, who he couldn't trust now. Gale just looked more irritated at his dismissal as she continued.

“Why the fuck was she visiting YN at 4:32 in the morning in fucking ICU, Dewey!? Seriously. They aren't that close and Jill was supposed to be just so weak and heavily injured. Get a goddamn grip!” 

“So what?” He threw his hands out. “You're defending YN now after all these years of damning her? All these years of being so-so…So…Hateful to her and now you're changing your tune?!” He spoke a bit louder than necessary and stammered his accusations.

Gale argued with a haughty look. “No…Maybe!” She released a frustrated groan. “I damned her for lying, which I was right, but I am a facts and getting the truth out sort of journalist before anything else and Jill's story has so many holes it's like a screen door! YN was yelling at us, begging us this morning to listen to her side-” 

“And why should we!?” Dewey uncharacteristically lost his temper as Gale blinked in surprise. “She lied to us, Gale! She lied for over a decade! Made you look like a bad journalist, knew my sister's murderers were alive, defended them last night!” He was overstimulated, heartbroken, stressed, bombarded with too much information.

Gale rubbed her temple as a tense silence fell over the couple in the empty hospital room. She sucked air through her nose and told him. “Look…I am not team YN right now either. She lied, I was right. As usual…But that's even more of a reason to listen to me when I say Jill is not normal and we need to wrangle YN in for questioning and capture Billy and Stu in the process. Something is beyond off about her and her phony sweet American pie bullshit act.” 

“You're being so…You!” He exclaimed.

“And what the hell does that mean?” 

Dewey paced and the tension just gave way. “You! You always do this. You care more about your career and the next big revolutionary story to put your name in lights than you do people's privacy and feelings. YN, no matter what, made her damn choice and frankly I don't want to arrest her. I don't because I still care about her even though I never want to see her again! That's my weakness, my EMPATHY, something you don't have!” 

Gale reeled back a moment. Blinking in shock at her husband's harsh words. 

Dewey gripped his hair, his mental state just about having had enough the last few days as he didn't care about his volume. “I can't do this anymore! It's why I'm resigning this coming week. I want those two in prison but I am not hunting them down for the rest of my life. Whatever happens to YN? She dug her own grave with them and it HURTS! I can't make these decisions anymore! I can't. It's why I'm done chasing after masked killers and trying to do the right thing because it's tiring trying to be good but apparently not for you because you're eager to hound a 17 year old girl that lost everything and question if she killed her own mother and friends like a heartless person!” 

…

After his fit…A tense silence fell over them. Gale eyed him with mistrustful eyes. Dewey didn't mean to lash out. In fact, his heart ached just seeing the hurt look in Gale's eyes before her usual iron wall came up as a disguise to protect herself.

“Gale, honey I-” 

“Don't.” She gave in a firm gravely tone. She grabbed her phone and purse he had brought her from her car last night before surgery. He wanted to take her bag, to chastise her for possibly hurting herself with her shoulder but one icy glare from her and he shrank into himself.

She stopped short of the hospital room door to tell him. “I may have my habits but so do you. You did it 15 years ago with YN and now that YN is gone; you're doing it again with this girl because you have to have someone to shelter from the guilt of not saving your sister…You are a good man, Dewey! An amazing man. Too good of one that you can't see when someone is clearly lying. All because of this fucked up misplaced guilt for Tatum and trusting people.” 

Dewey stiffened. Not sure if he should be taken aback, angry or hurt at that statement. Gale was like this. She went for the jugular when hurt but that didn't make it okay in his eyes to bring up Tatum.

She was almost out the door but turned back to add one more thing. “And by the way!…The killer recorded everything; so check the harddrive on the new final girls fucking phone and see how innocent she is!” 

Gale released an annoyed growl in her throat like a frustrated groan as she slammed the door and walked out. 

Dewey stood there a moment…A tense moment that he sighed, then paced, then quickly wiped tears away with his sleeve and a sniff as they threatened to spring up. He hadn't even slept the last 24 hours and he was overwhelmed. Of all the times he needed his wife, it was now, and…He didn't know if he just scared her away or she was just that honed in on this case. He should be too. But he felt so damn…Weak. Powerless. Helpless.

“...The Barney Fife of Woodsboro.” He bitterly mumbled to himself. Gale's old words hurt him deeper than she knew. And she never truly apologized or truly ever told him he was good at his job. She praised his character but rarely his job as a cop only when she had to to make amends. Maybe…Because he wasn't?

He sighed heavily, a pang of heartache in his chest at having no one really. His parents were too old to put this on them, Tatum was gone, Sidney was gone, Randy was gone…Now you were gone with the people that did this. He refused to believe they didn't after 1996. And now his wife might as well be gone right now too and Judy was…Not the person to turn to after what she just tried in the hallway.

Dewey decided to visit the one person left even if they were now lingering in his mind as a falsehood.

Jill had to go into surgery again to examine and to stitch up the stab wound in her abdomen and back. To think…Billy Loomis did that. Billy Loomis. 

Dewey should be happy. His wife lived and was healing even if they just argued; at least he could argue with her. Jill lived to tell her tale. Instead, he hadn't felt this low in 15 long years. Not since Fall of 1996…

He headed to Jill's room. Hanging his head as he slowly entered the room. Making sure he looked presentable. He gazed at her and it made a pang of hurt form in his chest and disbelief in his mind…YN…YN, the girl he protected. YN, the woman he saw like a sister. YN the girl who lived…Tried to kill the innocent teenage girl with the help of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher…

He didn't care what Gale said. All this time, you lied. You lied and hid them. The guys that murdered his younger sister and her best friend and all those years Dewey and Randy both said ‘No! No no no, YN would never do that!’. Him and Gale even broke up over her and you twice, once in 1997 then again when Gale went Court back in the 2000's and how hateful she had been towards you. A girl barely a woman with the whole world out to get her. 

To think Gale was right all along. YN was a snake. All Dewey did was cry or go numb over this…And the idea you might have killed Randy or helped? You helped Billy and Stu kill Randy? It made him sick. Sick to his stomach; sick with himself for letting you and those two monsters get away. 

Gale's rant kept replaying in his head…What if…What if YN and those two were innocent this time? But that was insane. 

“Hey Dewey.” Jill gave in her usual sweet disposition. It made him feel guilt. “So…Any news of catching them?” She pleasantly asked so innocently.

He shook his head, “Sorry Jill. Not yet.” He sat in a chair next to her hospital bed and took off his hat with a heavy sigh. “I am…So so sorry. I failed, I-” 

Jill gave a forced sad smile. Shaking her head she softly said, “Don't. You didn't know. I mean, who would ever think of my cousin's best friend. I mean, Billy and Stu and recruiting a guy like Charlie. Do you think YN was forced? Like, I don't know, Blackmailed? Like, if she didn't do this; they'd kill her or more people she cared about?” 

Dewey looked up at the 17 year old. A glimmer of hope in his brown eyes as he tried and failed to hide how vulnerable he was right now. “I…I don't know.” He stared and thought. “Do you think so?” 

It wouldn't excuse anything but it was better than you willfully killing Randy and those kids. 

Jill smiled real big then quickly covered her mouth to hide it. 

“Maybe?” Jill shrugged. “I know she attacked me when I went to visit her but Billy REALLY attacked me. Maybe she thought I was them?” She pouted and showed her stitches under her gown. “I just want to find her and talk to her and know why? Why would she do this? If she was forced; we can help her.” 

Dewey looked hopeful and for the first time in 24 hours had a small smile. He stood and patted Jill's knee. “You're a good kid. Just get some rest okay? Leave all these questions to us. Need anything?” 

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. I'm just sorry I tried to grab your gun-” She fidgeted with her blanket and grimaced in that sweet voice. “I just, wasn't feeling myself and was so upset my friends' murderers might get away.” Her eyebrows went up and she looked gutted but no tears in her eyes. Such a strong kid.

“Oh Jill.” He shook his head. “It's alright. I even thought…Well…Who can prepare for something like that? And I have almost 20 years of police training under my belt.” He went to shut her door. “You're forgiven, just get some rest.” 

She smiled as he shut her door and it just left a whirlwind of emotions in him. A part of him wanted to find you if you did in fact do all this against your will. If you were brainwashed or they had something on you that if they died someone you cared for got hurt…But if you actually did this on your own; he didn't want to find you. It hurts entirely too much even if justice should prevail.

He saw a huge grin on Jill's face in a reflection on the door…She must just be happy he stopped by.

——————————————

Later that night, Somewhere in California away from Woodsboro. You stood on a murderers porch in the dark hanging your head over the railing.

Fuck. Everything.

You were sore, physically drained, mentally drained. And you talking to Billy made everything worse.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your face. It had been such a long day, why the hell did you get on this subject? Yeah, it felt major. Billy Loomis told you you were his and comforted you while holding your hand after being stabbed. All while he came back to rescue you AND the letter that has been eating a hole in your pocket for days now. Pretty unavoidable unsaid context here…But this felt like the worst timing by his reaction alone.

You sighed again and tried to untense your shoulders before heading back inside. Still had a dried-blood, icky hospital gown on and a jacket. You were cold, tired, thinking maybe the pill was wearing off with how sore you felt. Your joints were so stiff and skin so bruised you felt like every step was an 80 year old woman not one at 32. You just wanted to go back to sleep on Billy's frumpy couch in some comfy clothes. Maybe the recliner with tape on the arm would be better? You were tempted to nap with Stu but he was acting…Odd. And if he touched you, you were in no position to fight him off right now.

With a heavy heart and head; you dragged yourself back inside. Not eager to be near either of these men at this point. Billy pretty much tore what teeny tiny sliver of hope you had in your heart for him even if it felt stupid to begin with and Stu was not acting right in the head. But what choice did you have? Can't go to Woodsboro, and in case the cops were hunting you, you couldn't go to a family member's house or your cabin either.

You walked in. Shut and lock the door. Shrugged off your jacket with a grunt to lay it with Billy's other jackets on an old rickety chair. Billy was nowhere to be found and Stu was sleeping last you heard.

You went to sit in the recliner for just a moment.  Every movement made you fatigued. Easing in with a grimace as you white knuckled the arm of the chair in your grip. God, everything hurts! It probably would for a while. You were still leery of the fact Jill could've punctured an organ or opened a stitch in your fight especially since you had only eaten a tiny bit and didn't have a bowel movement yet…You were fearful of the pain of that potentially or what to do if you did need to go to the hospital.

You eased back and tried to relax in the armchair. Closing your eyes for just a second before feeling someone near you…

…Your brow twitched at that uncanny feeling of eyes on you…

You opened them and in a flash Stu smacked his hands on either side of the arms of the chair. Essentially trapping you there as you gasped loudly. Nearly jolting in fear at the surprise.

“Stu, what the hell are you doing-”

“I know.” Was all he gave with a dark look in his blue eyes. A predatory look that reminded you way too much of that raining night at your house or him at that party at Windsor or even him holding your own gun at that motel.

“Know…What?” You whispered as you started feeling anxiety grip you. Easing back into the chair as he got closer, inches from your face.

“Don't play dumb, Sweetcheeks.” He smiled a humorless grin. “I heard everything you had to say to him on that porch just now…You two holding hands and you calling out to him, you and him bonding over your little book which I'm sure his character had a bigger role than my character if my character was even in it. The letter…Where's the letter, babe? I wanna read it.” 

“Stu, just…Let me up” You swallowed.

He gave with that dangerous smile, a dark expression as his voice dropped an octave and he got closer to you. “I really wanna read it.” 

“B-” Your voice caught in your throat out of fear and you yelled for the only other hope you had. “Billy!!” 

“That's right, call for Billy. Billy to the fucking rescue. Billy the guy always picked first! Billy the man!” Stu lost his temper and shoved a bunch of shit off an end table and you couldn't help the wince and gasp before you tried to get up and get away and he stopped you. “Uh uh! You aren't going anywhere!” 

You stared up at him with big eyes, “Stu…Just calm down. Let me go.” 

“Oh yeah, tell me to calm down. Tell me, baby. That always works.” He giggled out with a lopsided evil little grin.

“Stu, please-” 

He smacked the chairs arms, “HOW LONG!?” His emotions are absolutely random and chaotic. The jealous rage in Stu was nothing to be trifled with. You didn't owe him anything but you knew in his mind you did. 

“Stu, I don't know what you think but me and Billy are not in some secret relationship or hiding anything-” 

“BULLSHIT!” 

“WE AREN'T!” You frantically yelled back pinned against that chair before. “Stu, you're scaring me. Please.” 

He smirked but no mirth was in his eyes.

Billy came out of the bathroom and you heard him going towards Stu but to your shock, Stu was that pissed. That enraged at you both. That much past turmoil bubbling to the surface. That it seemed letting Billy man handle him all those years finally exploded. You hated it but the sound felt like it didn't come from you as a shrill gasp ripped past your lips as Stu punched Billy across the face before he could lay a hand on him to get him away from you. 

Stu went to swing on him again while Billy was down, going to straddle him to beat him god knows how many times. You yelled at him, “Stop it! Damn it, stop it right now!” as it fell on deaf ears and both him and Billy were trying to hit each other even in their injured states. You went to grab Stu by the shoulder and he shoved you back before a pained yelp came from you at your stitches and you collided against the chair. Damn…It hurts. You held back, not wanting them to do this but also not wanting to be injured for two nutjobs either. 

 You went to the kitchen moving faster than you should while injured. Trying to figure out what to do as you heard both men arguing and fighting. Stu, even injured, was a beast as he shoved Billy into a wall, actually cracking the drywall there, “You piece of shit! You knew how I felt and you did this behind my back!?” Stu yelled going to punch him and Billy dodged. “Don't love her? Isn't that what you told me a decade ago!?” 

“I didn't do anything you fucking lunatic!” Billy yelled back with a red cheek where his scar you gave him was as their grappling ended up in the kitchen near you. Stuff knocked off the walls.

“Stop lying!! You wrote her a fucking letter-” 

“Yeah! I did! 15 years ago! I was a fucking kid!” Billy emphasized angrily as he punched Stu but Stu tried choking him in a headlock.

“Yeah, I bet. Just like Roman, huh? And me being a scapegoat!” Stu had his arms around Billy's neck and Billy had no choice but to shove backwards in Stu's hold as you flinched when the small round table broke as they collided on top of it.

You did the only damn thing you could think of at the moment other than hitting them upside the head, let them kill each other or kill them with a knife.

They both grunted in annoyance, especially Stu, when you used the ice cold water from the sink hose and sprayed jets of water on them like 2 dogs fighting. “Enough! We don't need you both hurt, okay!? Fucking stop!” 

Stu got off Billy and marched towards you. Hair wet and pissed off. Fear dropped in your stomach at the predatory way he came towards you and as soon as you went to get a knife as defense, not expecting him to come at you like that... He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you towards him. Dropping the hose in the sink and making you helpless against him in your injured state. You were too injured to even use any self defense moves and in this position it was hard. Shoved against a counter by someone so much bigger and both wrist in his hand and the distance closed between you two. You couldn't even kick him with your stitches so sore right now.

Billy tried getting up from the broken table on the ground, bleeding from where his stitches were but not as badly as Stu was. “Sttuuu!” He warned huffing breath and getting up.

Stu was sweating. Eyes crazed and bleeding through his shirt from reopening stitches in their short but intense fight. He glared down at you so hatefully. He glared as time judt froze.

“...You're lucky some tiny part of me gives a shit about you. If not? I'd rip you apart and bleed you out like I have so many other whores.” 

You stared. Not breathing as a chill ran down your spine. Because with his tone and the look in his gaze; you knew he meant it.

He jerked away to lean on the counter. In pain and panting as he hunched over and Billy leaned against the fridge near you. 

Stu shook his head in a dry smile. “...All those years, man. All those years I was there for you. I protected you, I left my number, I gave you the benefit of the doubt over and over, risked my damn identity and freedom not killing your friends…Well…Someone killed them, just not me.” He chuckled wryly, hanging his head.

Billy now with a red spot on his face slowly bruising glared tiredly at Stu. You just stared before telling him, “Stu, I swear I don't know what you think-” 

“I THINK?! No, I know. I know that you two apparently held hands and had a moment.” 

“Because you passed out and I was scared!” You exclaimed. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Billy and you share a book and he's a fan of it and a moment together and you go to him to talk and him to patch you up and him to take care of you when I've been pining for you for 15 years!” He gazed at you and his anger faded to desperation. “Fif-Teen-Fucking-Years.” He sounded out in a mumble as he stood up fully, gripping his stomach. 

“Stu.” 

“Don't bother. As soon as I can walk and drive and shit properly without pain; I'm out of here, man. And neither one of you will see me ever again.” He grumbled as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Billy and you were alone as he glared at you, “You just had to bring up that letter on the porch?” 

You were flabbergasted, “Hey, don't do that. I didn't know he was listening, neither did you!” You felt that shrunken guilt ridden feeling even if you shouldn't.

“Yeah well, he did. Now we both gotta sleep with one eye open. Thanks for that…Fucking idiot.” He mumbled getting an ice pack from the freezer for his face that was slowly getting red and inflamed from those punches. He glared at his broken table and shook his head and went to the recliner.

You just stood in the kitchen, your mind reeling like it had so many times before with these two. You never felt more weak and alone in your life…Well, top 3 at least on the awful moments list in your head. 

You walked out and noticed your jacket wasn't where you had it. You sighed to yourself knowing exactly who had it. “...I need to go talk to him. Or something. ” 

Billy scoffed, “Are you stupid or nuts? He'll kill you right now and these fucking injuries I got will be for nothing.” 

You rolled your eyes and laid gingerly onto the couch. Accepting maybe you needed to leave him be. Seeing the bathroom door open and Stu go to the bedroom.

That slammed door and hearing something break in HIS bedroom just sent Billy into a rage of his own. 

Billy and him argued one more time over the damage to the house and Stu stealing Billy's room that ended in Billy slamming the door screaming, “FUCKER!!” In outrage at his bed being taken in his own home by a guy he was letting stay here. You had talked him down from killing Stu which earned a ‘shut your fucking mouth and mind your business’ from him and yet you both complied. 

He tossed you some clothes and you finally got out of that damn hospital gown into an oversized flannel and comfy bottoms

Hours passed of awkward silence and the tv was on Rosemary's Baby. Billy had fallen asleep after 3 hours of ‘eh’ sort of grunts and shrugs as he had to redo his wrappings and had a bruise on his face. You tried to subtly clean up the mess him and Stu made but bending over wasn't a good thing for you right now. 

It was…Depressing. This house trailer with outdated everything and not a homey thing in sight. Especially compared to the Meeks house you stayed in tidy but cluttered with family things like kids toys and memorabilia and the fridge had pictures and drawings and cute magnets and the house smelled good but lived in in a cozy way and the blanket was fuzzy and clean but had a hint of the scent of Mindy's hair product where she had her hair braided that morning and had slept on it before you arrived. The pictures on the walls. The scooby doo and pikachu bowls and spoons for ice cream in the cabinets…Randy's movie collection.

A tight frown in place as you sighed. Thinking all of this was just dragging you down. You didn't need that anymore than you already had.

You had no one now. The cozy homely vibe people complain of as boring is a distant memory now. 

You saw Billy's room light was still on. Billy himself was asleep breathing deeply as you studied him for the longest time. His face matured so much in this decade. The shorter hair made him even more grown up looking as opposed to his longer hair he used to have. The lack of facial hair looked better on him too. Facial hair, at least that 90's goatee thin mustache combo he had, shockingly made him look like a kid that penciled it in or something. It looked out of place on his almost feminine features he had when younger. Now, with a much more chiseled jawline and bigger built frame he…Well, it was harder to remember he was that lean pretty boy with gel in his hair to sweep it back that was trying to kill you.

But Stu? He still looked so much like he always had just a bit more filled out. It was easy to remember Stu no matter how many style changes he went through.

You kept watching that light and you swore you heard a hiccuping noise that whether you liked it or not made you…Feel bad. It could've been him scoffing or anything but…The mere idea it was hurt from you hurt you in a way it shouldn't but it did. 

You cursed yourself glaring at the ceiling. ‘See? This is how you get into these situations!’ Was all you could think. 

You sighed softly and looked at Billy as you made a choice. Besides…You couldn't sleep and you knew damn well Billy wasn't as asleep as he acted. You were now in an oversized blue flannel Billy gave you to wear and a pair of gym style mens shorts. Nothing else to wear.

You quietly got up and crept past Billy's chair to the back part of the trailer. You almost wanted to use the restroom across from the bedroom and go back to the couch but you heard Stu still awake…And a tight frown formed as you raised your fist. You faltered before tapping on the wood with your knuckles. Stu was a loose canon and the longer this issue sat the more crazy he'd become.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4 coming soon!

[msookyspooky]

  Fours a Franchise

Part 15

wordcount: 9,337

Your phone rang, scaring all of you at the sudden loud noise…Who the hell could be calling you? What if it was Dewey telling you he knew exactly where you are and he was coming for you or already there? Or what about Gale to tell you she had evidence to back up Jill and you were finished? Your entire body froze as you felt like you didn't breathe for several rings.

Billy jerked to look at you from the kitchen. Worry and tension in his body language as well as Stu's.

Stu stiffened and sharply told you, “Man, turn that off!” Leery of being tracked.

Billy looked at you in warning as well.

You tentatively picked it up and you saw the caller ID across your screen.

…Karla Meeks.

“Do not answer that.” Billy ordered firmly. “I don't care who it is!”

“I…” You fumbled in thought. Guilt eating you alive.

Karla…God, how can you forget her in all this mess? Her husband is dead. You lost a friend but she lost her husband in such a savage way…And it was your fault even indirectly. If you hadn't let him go no matter how mad he was. If you wouldn't have seperated to talk to Billy and Stu in the first place. If you just stayed at his house and took the risk of being unknowingly across the street from one of the killers...None of this may have happened…You owed her somehow even just a voice. Someone did.

“Sweetcheeks, don't answer!” Stu agreed with him as Stu tried to get up from his chair but was having a tough time with how in pain he was. Letting out a sharp ‘Oof!’ noise of pain as he went to move with his injured ribs and internal injuries stitched up. His equilibrium was off too, no doubt from a concussion from the metal bed pan Jill beat him with.

Billy went to drag his bum leg towards you to grab that slighlty cracked smartphone. Damaged from falling off a roof and the night you had. Billy was too slow as you took a huge risk and answered it. It was just such a knee jerk reaction to answer the last friend you had in the world. You couldn't live with yourself missing that call…She was the only person that didn't look at you like a traitor or killer now.

Stu harshly whispered out with wide eyes, “Did you seriously just answer it? YN!”

“Goddamn you. Give it!-” Billy rubbed his face as you answered, still going to take it but you just scooted away as you had it on speaker phone. A familiar woman asking ‘hello?’ and saying your name repeatedly on the other line.

You swallowed and finally spoke. “...Karla?”  

“YN?...You answered. Oh God. Oh my God, YN… Where are you?” She drew out with such a heavy voice clad with woe and tiredness.

“I…Can't say.” Your eyes darted around as Billy and Stu watched with disapproval at you talking to her at all. Billy still trying to get that phone as you held up a pillow to block him. All of you with the fighting power of senior citizens with how banged up you all were. He gave up after a few attempts not nearly as much fight as he had in the hospital.

“Dewey, won't say either. But you were with Randy last night. Right? YN…YN, what happened?”

Your heart ached as you heard her voice tremble on the other line.

“YN, how did it happen? How did Randy-'' She sobbed out; losing her barely there composure on the other line. “Please, what happened? How did my husband get away from you, please…Please, YN, please I can't-”

Of all the things to make you instantly hurt; it was this. Karla and Randy's kids crying and talking in the background as you were frozen in your seat. You heard Mindy yell, ‘He's not dead!’ at the news. Refusing to believe at the tender age of 6 that her Daddy was gone.

It's like reality was fully setting in…You almost broke down when Randy saw Billy and Stu last night, when you found Randy dead last night, at the Meeks house, when you almost died twice, when Dewey wanted nothing to do with you, the car ride but…This was just too much after 24 hours of straight Hell.

You couldn't hold it in as tears sprung to your eyes and your lip wobbled. Quickly shoving your palm over your mouth to prevent it.

Billy watched with a tight stoic look. Mouth thin as he watched you, almost curious but slightly annoyed. Whether at you or the situation was debatable. Looking uncomfortable and even shocked at you crying after all these years of you never showing this side of you. Not to him, at least.

Stu on the other hand had seen this a handful of times before back when he visited your cabin years ago. When it was just you and him searching for Billy to investigate Hollywood as well. He still looked shocked at first before he just frowned and tried to ease himself up with a tired sigh.

“Karla, I'm sorry…God, it's my fault! I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” You cried out; repeating your words as you covered your eyes. Hiccuping on a sob you tried to choke down.

“YN, please you have to tell me! No one has details…My husband's gone…Mindy and Chad won't stop crying when they heard; I can't stop-” She was almost hysterical at this point. Her heart more broken than even yours 

You released a soft sob as you heard a child screaming in the background. You wanted to scream too. They were only 6…They were only 6. They were practically babies to you.

You both were sobbing as you tried so hard to suck in a shaky breath to speak, “Karla, I'm gonna make this right by you. I swear…I'm gonna make this as easy for you all as I can.”

“YN, I just need answers! Dewey won't say anything! What the fuck happened and why aren't you in Woodsboro?! Your suitcase is here, you're not at the hospital and no one is telling me anything!” She exclaimed at her wits end.

You ignored her request and just told her in a solemn voice, “I won't be coming to Ray's funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you gave that shaky reply.

“What? But-”

You interrupted her, “I am gonna miss you and the kids. Tell Mindy and Chad I love them and no matter what anyone says about me; don't believe it…Please…Remind them how proud Ray was…H-How much he loved them and you…He loved you a lot Karla.” You couldn't do it as a cry threatened to wrack your body painfully and you shut your phone off before she could reply. Her voice was going to say something but what was there to say? You could never go to Woodsboro again. You couldn't tell her the truth. Your guilt would never allow you to see them again even if you could go to Woodsboro…

You let it drop from your hands onto the sofa as you held your face in your hands. Sobbing like you hadn't in years. Now that Ghostface wasn't after you; it was a release. You were backed in a corner so many times and you just couldn't be strong anymore…Hearing Karla sobbing for her husband. For your best friend as it all came crashing into you. Remembering the video of him begging for his life Charlie showed; hanging lifeless and pale from the barn. Not to mention, your last conversation and now your last conversation with Dewey too. Woodsboro ‘96 all over again if not 10 times worse. You couldn't be stoic right now even if you tried.

You finally looked up seeing both Billy and Stu staring wide eyed like young boys unsure what to say or do. Stu went to go near you to console you but faltered as you sucked on a sob trying to escape your lips. Teary eyes glanced at them both.

Everyone just froze, not sure what to say.

Billy went to say it, “You shouldn't have done that, it was an idiot thing to do. What if they get our location and…”

But one glance at you and he sighed reluctantly. Averting his gaze to go to the kitchen. Avoiding this.

Stu hesitated before easing with a hiss of pain onto the end of the couch near you. “...You…Alright?”

“No, Stu! I'm not alright! My best friend is dead, I can never see my god-kids ever again, my other friend thinks I'm a murderer, I'm on the run with stab wounds and could have a ruptured organ in me but can't go get it checked out and all because you two 15 years ago-” You were about to say what you've said for years to them when you saw Stu give a tight frown and looked away. Not even defending himself for once even if he looked annoyed. You faltered and stopped yourself. “I'm sorry…But no, I'm not fucking okay.” You gave in a heavy teary voice.

Stu nodded and rubbed your back with what he could do with his one arm. “Yeah…” He mumbled.

You gave a shaky sigh. “Sorry…It's just too much.”

Stu sighed too and leaned forward with a raised brow in thought as he stared at the carpet. “...You know, Ray isn't your fault.” You huffed but he continued, “No seriously. The guy chose to seperate and go against his rules…I mean, did he even wait for you or was he just gonna get in the car and leave you with a killer on the loose?”

You didn't answer.

Stu eyed you. “...Him getting killed was crappy timing and the killers knew that. If anything, you could blame us for talking to you or going to the party…Shit happens.”

You shook your head at how callous Stu could be. “Shit doesn't happen when your best friend is hung from a barn gutted and bled out, Stu…” You sniffed hard and replied in a monotone.

“Okay…But are you going to blame yourself like you do everything else? Cause it's really a turn off when you do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh a turn off. Can't have that.” You sarcastically replied before sighing with a shrug. “I…I don't know…I know I didn't kill him…Fucking Charlie-” You shook your head in disgust.

Stu replied, “Yeah. What a jerkoff loser.” His blue downturned eyes glanced at you in determination. “I should've slit his throat when I had the chance. I didn't know they had a gun…That was my fuck up. I get too-”

“Cocky?”

“I was gonna say excited.” He smirked wryly and gently nudged you.

You forced a small tight smile a moment but it didn't last. You shrugged with a tired sigh and sniffled, your tears slowly drying. “Yeah well, the cops confiscated my gun because I threatened some boys that were laughing and recording Randy's dead body right in front of us.”

“Damn…”

“I didn't even threaten them with the gun, just maybe hitting a minor.” You grumbled.

“Kids suck and people suck in general.” He mused.

You wanted to rip his ass. Tell him he thought Woodsboro ‘96 was ‘like Christmas!’ and was elated at Himbry's body displayed by Billy on the football fielf. He was, would and is just like those boys Kirby chased off for you.

You shook your head realizing as your mind wasn't in fight or flight mode…Shit…She died too. She must've not listened and went outside when you got a kitchen knife and separated.

You rolled your lips and muttered, “If I had my gun, Dewey's gun technically, I would've at least shot Jill or Charlie before you both even got there and none of this would've happened…But fucking Judy-” You scoffed with an annoyed sniffle at the memory of last night.

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” Stu sighed in exasperation. “Seriously, Sweetcheeks. The damage is done, girl. I know it sucks but me and Billy screwed up too and we aren't dwelling on it. Ya know why? Because it doesn't do anything.”

You slowly nodded to yourself. They had a lifetime of screw ups. Knowing even if they won't admit it. If they could have not been so stupid and brash to kill so many at a party they would be way better off…And you'd feel guilty for a while but logically he was right. Randy was dead. Dewey hated you. Gale showed she hasn't changed as well as secretly still disliked you and just waited for a reason to say she was right all these years. You may be in prison soon…And there was nothing to be done about it.

“You're right.”

Stu blinked in surprise. “...Well that's new. I like it. You should admit I'm right more often, Sweetcheeks.” You couldn't help the wry quiet chuckle as you hung your head and Stu eyed you. “This is nice. We haven't really talked in person one on one in a decade, huh? Outside of killer talk at least.”

“Yeah, I guess not…”

“Did ya miss me?” He teased.

You sighed not crying anymore even if your eyes still sting and your heart still twisted. “Sometimes.” You were not willing to fully admit right now that yes. Yes, you did.

Billy came back eavesdropping a bit from the open kitchen door frame as the silence stretched on.

Stu stared longer. "You did?"

"Yeah. Sometimes...Sometimes I did."

Stu stared wide eyed. His gaze softening and scooting closer. He then went to hug you or kiss you; you weren't sure which but you jerked away in pain with your stomach as well as just not wanting touched right now, “…No.” While stopping him as he stared at you long and hard. “I'm sorry but…I'm just not comfortable with that right now.”

“I was just…We hugged at the barn. So, I just thought it would be…” He shrugged, trailing off.

“I know. A part of me would want one if I wasn't in so much turmoil and pain…My body hurts and my heart and head and…It's not the time.” You mumbled.

“I mean, I think it's a perfect time.”

You were silent, getting uncomfortable with his persistent personality of you giving an inch and he took it 100 miles on a highway with how he reacted to things. You admit you missed him sometimes meant you were madly in love and wanting his attention he so generously gave no matter what in his ears.

You stared at the floor before Stu said, “I'm sorry for your friend, uh. It sucks…But…I'm here, you know. I can be a shoulder to cry on or anything you want. I know even if I say don't beat yourself up you will so…I'm your guy to talk to.”

He kept urging, kept getting close as can be, kept talking like he didn't see social ques to leave you be or he was that full of himself that you'd give in for him. With Stu, it was debatable.

Billy commented, “Stu…I don't think she wants to talk right now…Just let her sort things out in her head.” He crossed his arms and watched.

“I'll let her be the judge of that.” Stu gave him a haughty look.

“…Billy's right, I just need time alone.” You mumbled as you were clearly devastated and hurting and uncomfortable.

“Billy's right…Pft, yeah.” He repeated with a puff of air past his lips. A strange look in his eyes before he just stared between you both being his blunt self. A hateful matter of fact tone to his voice now. “Yeah, well. You can never go back. You know that, right? Woodsboro is dead to you now.”

You sucked in a breath almost ready to tell him to leave you alone. “Yes, I know that.”

“Good, cause…You might not even be able to go home. Like, home home. To your cabin.”

You gave him a glare, “In time-”

He shrugged, “You're better off here. With us. I mean, I'm here for you.” He went to put an arm around you like he did earlier but this time more forceful.

You rolled your eyes at that knowledge as it made you feel worse. You shrank away from him and finally just told him, “Stu, I really wanna be alone.”

Billy watched as Stu's face contorted. “Stu.” Billy mumbled trying to get his attention hoping he'd just drop it.

“You were fine till Billy came in…” He grumbled under his breath.

“What?” You blinked.

Stu was silent and got up. “...Nothing…Just hope Karla didn't have that phone tracing the call with the police.”

You felt your gut sink. You were so tired and emotional fucked up you truthfully didn't think. Just eager to hear from her.

“I'm going to bed.” Stu mumbled his entire mood shifting as he crept slowly to Billy's room in the back of the trailer.

Billy huffed and after a few moments rolled his eyes. “I guess he's taking my food and bed. Great.” He sarcastically mumbled then sighed heavily. Easing with grimace to lean over a chair a moment.

“...What was that about?” You softly asked Billy.

The man shrugged, “Who fucking knows?…He's right though. You did something stupid as hell answering that phone.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” You admitted not even trying to deny it. “It was stupid and I'm sorry I put us at risk. It won't happen again.”

Billy's face contorted in annoyance, “STOP that.”

“Huh?” You blinked. “Stop what??”

“The docile bullshit of agreeing with me. STOP.”

You huffed out. “Would you rather us argue and fight and me disagree?”

“Yeah! Actually, I would.” He grumbled then scoffed while rubbed his face. “I'm not use to you so close and us not trying to one up each other or kill you…It's fucking weird.”

You chuckled wryly. You couldn't help it.

“Shut up.” He jeered with a twitch of his brow in irritation and embarrassment.

“You're allergic to niceness, aren't you?” You couldn't help it. His expression was hilarious for a guy like him. You had to make fun of him a little bit just hopefully not enough for him to stab you.

“No, just allergic to not killing you.” He side eyed you, “...Annoying ass bitch.”

You weren't even insulted. Because right now, this grown man who was usually so damn glarey and stoic and intimidating was injured severely and almost gave you a pout like some pre teen boy all because you were being decent to him and he felt awkward. You chuckled and Billy tsked with an eye roll but just retorted another ‘Shut up or I'll gut you.’ your way. Same generic shit you've heard for years.

You stopped chuckling and just sighed with a slight smile. “...This is…Weird for me too, ya know. Stuck in the house of the guy that tried to kill me on and off for 15 years…. Being all. Well…Civil.”

Billy shrugged, “I didn't try that hard at all or you'd be dead by now.” I sniffed nonchalantly.

You had to give an eye roll; it was like breathing at this point. God, both men were so arrogant. Billy couldn't possibly admit you beat him. No way. ‘He wasn't trying’ would forever be his excuse. 

Billy watched you with his own smug smirk in place at your exasperation. “Your food's done by the way. Don't make a mess or anything if you're even capable of that.”

You went to retort something but he already went outside to have a smoke. You mumbled to yourself, “Asshole.” You mumbled lacking the disdain you usually had. He couldn't do anything nice without being a dick. Go figure. You pushed to rise up

You ate the food he got out of a can some off brand chef boyardee. Really chewing. Kinda scared to eat with how your insides may or may not be injured and stitches reopened from Jill.

The time passed and you didn't know where Billy's remote was for the tv or if it even worked. It looked pretty old. The couch was honestly not that comfortable and had way too ‘natural’ of a smell for your liking. You huffed and sighed the pain mildly dulled by the pills Billy gave you but you finally just decided…There was just too much on your mind. Especially with Billy. Stu was an open book, manipulative but so self serving he was still easy to read. He was acting odd, yeah…But his odd moodiness wasn't in your mind. Besides, he was asleep. You didn't want to wake him.

Billy not killing you, allowing you refuge in his home, helping you fight Jill and Charlie, the moment you both had. That was on your mind.

You put on the jacket you had hanging from Stu grabbing your stuff at the hospital and stepped outside a moment in socks and that gown still.

"What?"

"Nothing just stepping outside. I don't need anything." You gave pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

Billy was leaning over the railing with his cigarette dwindling and head hanging but looked up and huffed, “Aren't you cold?”

You pulled it closer. “You never gave me that flannel or spare clothes.”

He sighed, “Shit…Well, you don't need to stay in that bloody gown-”

He went to walk but you stopped him. “In a minute. I kinda wanna get fresh air and wouldn't mind company. I'm kinda scared of being alone. It's stupid but after…Everything. I got this irrational paranoia someone is gonna pop out and grab me. Or cops now, apparently.”

"Well, at least I know I can still make you scream from just popping out with a bargain bin mask yelling 'boo!'..." He faltered, then almost softened a bit. Nodding in understanding. “I get it though. I was like that for years.”

“Does the fear of being ‘caught’ ever go away?”

He took a drag and smirked slightly, “Nope.”

You sighed at that and eased onto a lawn chair he had on the porch.

It was silent before you asked, “What is Stu mad about?”

He shrugged, face souring. “Oh who knows. He gets like this. He bull's and manipulates to get his baby ass way…Same as a decade ago apparently.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

You fiddled with your jackets zipper, “Just…I thought you both talked this last decade?”

“Please.” Billy wryly smirked. “We aren't ‘friends’ like that. Not now. I used him 15 years ago. He betrayed me for you. We both betrayed each other, I guess…We don't have a need for each other. Haven't talked in over a decade till he called me up saying someone put the mask on again.” He looked distant as he mumbled this to you.

“...So you really don't miss him as a friend?”

“No.” He took a drag and you were skeptical of that but didn't press. “You can't befriend a manipulative self serving guy like him."

"That include you in that?" You retorted.

To your shock, he nodded. "In fact, you can't befriend anyone. I don't care about anyone because no one will care about me.”

"Seriously? You actually think that? That's not true.”

“Oh? Look at Dewey.”

"Don't bring him in this." You quickly glared at him.

"Hey, he's an example. Didn't take him long to turn on you."

“ Dewey got his sister killed by you then thinks I'm with you and Stu and helped hide you both even in 96. That's understandable. I know you gave a shit about your mom and I don't see you too upset over Cotton's death.”

He gave a scowl at you bringing up his mother. “Sorry...Dewey and Randy are sore spots. It's fresh, Billy. But they were my friends for over a decade.”

He relented and nodded That surprised you. “Yeah well, me and Stu aren't friends. We don't get attatched either. We both are too self preserving for that.”

You took that in then frowned in thought. “...But why after all this time do you both keep trying to be…That way? I mean, trusting no one or relying on no one forever?”

He looked at you like you were stupid “To get his way; why else? And for me, it's survival.”

“No, I know that! Duh." You grumbled in irritation "But…Forever? Is survival or getting your way that important? More important than being happy-”

"Happiness is killing." He cut you off. "Contentment is knowing I'm not caught. Survival is making sure of that by not trusting anyone."

A moment of tense silence etched on. It was so disarming hearing him talk like that. Of course you knew he liked murder but he made himself sound like he was like a mindless rapid dog and it's all he knew...Maybe because it was?

“...Why did you both become like this?” You suddenly asked.

Billy wiped his head to look at you, eyes widening. Clearly not expecting that.

You frowned and continued while gazing at the dark road in front of the trailer. “I understand you with your family. I get it you felt like you lost it all but Stu seemed so spoiled and normal. So…Why?”

"Damn, you came out here to do an interview or what?" Billy settled and truly pondered while dangling his cigarette between his teeth. “..Why does Stu manipulate? I don't know. Probably learned early on that's how he gets whatever he wants. It's how I learned after I reached puberty and apparently my looks outweighed my loner attitude. You can be weird and off putting and an asshole and as long as your conventional attractive you can get away with it.” You looked listened, taken aback he was so kandid with you as he continued. “You know how much of an overgrown baby Stu is when he doesn't get his way…He had rich parents that were always gone and an overachieving older sister and he probably just learned to get his way by using people.” He shrugged. “As for why he's the way he is; The hell should I know? He's always been down for murder since day one. Barely had to convince him. In fact, he urged me on. I knew out of anyone I knew; Stu would be the perfect scapegoat if shit went wrong and he was the one down to do whatever we needed.”

'Ah.' You thought to yourself. So…He was always like this? Sadistic, cruel, impulsive, manipulative, brash, charming. It made sense.

"And you?"

"None of your business." He mumbled.

You sighed, "Fair enough." But you still had so much on your mind. “...Do you still…You know.” You gave a pause, trailing your sentence off. “Want me dead?"

Billy stared for a moment before averting his gaze. The silence defeaning while he was taking a drag of his cigarette while thinking. “... I hate your fucking guts and imagine killing you quite often. In great detail at that.”

You hung your head expecting that answer with a wry humorless smirk. Nodding to yourself. Of course. What else did you expect?

Billy eyed you subtle before clearing his throat. "But not right now. Obviously. I don't give my victims Spaghetti-o's."

You had to give a dry chuckle at that and he slighlty smirked at the reaction.

He fiddled with a piece of wood splintered off the porch railing and mumbled, “But, I'll admit…It's not as strong recently. But it's there.” He shrugged with an awkward clearing of his throat as he shifted on his feet. Hanging his head as he leaned over the porch. The night air was getting crisp like it always did this time of year as you pulled the jacket around yourself more. You almost wanted to go in but how often did you talk to Billy without Stu's flirting or crude jokes?

“I…Look um, I never said this. You know about what happened between us in '96. Not calmly anyways...” You ran a hand over your head. “Billy, I just wanted you both to stop killing my friends and trying to kill me, okay? It's the only reason I ever…Did anything. If it wasn't for that, I would've left you both alone if you left me alone.”

“YN.”

“Seriously. I didn't make it a life's mission to kill you or put you behind bars ONLY when you were actively coming after me or my friends. Fuck, you were hunting ME. I-”

“Shut up already.” He looked annoyed but yet there wasn't as much annoyance as he normally possed in the way he spoke to you, “Look, I get it. It's a dog eat dog world. I wasn't innocent or framed…In retrospect…If it wasn't you; it would've been someone else trying to stop me back then. I was overzealous…Only because I was young and pissed off. Kinda glad it was you. You chickened out and it made me live.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.” You sarcastically gave.

Billy actually chuckled dryly, “Ah, there's that bitch I fight with. Thought she was gone and replaced by the sniveling wuss I've been seeing.”

“Whatever.” You gave with a heavy frown. “Not exactly in the joking mood with someone still admitting to wanting to imagine killing me after the night I had ."

Billy smiled in amusement. “Stop being so melodramatic. I told you; If I wanted you dead I'd do it. I have control of my urges, I'm not a dog like Stu.” He looked up at the sky. “...Why are you really out here?”

“Fresh air.”

“Shit liar, as usual. If you came out her to ask a million questions and bother me then just ask the big one and get it over with.”

You scoffed, brow twitching at him calling you out...There were a lot of reasons, “Fine…Stu then.” You only told half the truth. “He's behaving weird and it has me on edge.”

“Ah…Well a decade ago you followed me out on my smoke break cause Stu and you pissed me off. Here you are once again. And Stu is the common denominator. He gets on his little hyperfixations and it's like a bull seeing red and neither of us wanna deal with that.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Only this one is you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You.” He blew out smoke then put out his dwindling cigarette. “Something about you always has him in one tizzy or another. You're like an obsession for him.”

“That's comforting.” You sarcastically mumbled. “But it makes sense. He's probably still mad that I'm not running into his arms.” The silence stretched out before you looked at him, “But my question isn't entirely Stu. Stu is probably doing this to see if I get another chance with him or boredom something...Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being…Decent to me. Last time I saw you we had a screaming match in my yard in the pouring rain and you almost killed me in my cabin. We said some harsh things.”

“Like how I can't kill you?” He jeered with a glare. “...Makes me wanna kill you right now, actually, out of pure spite. Just to prove a point. So how about not bringing up old shit?”

You didn't even fight back. Just slumping your shoulders. “Yeah…Fine.” You looked up at the sky. “I have nothing. No weapons. No one to help me…So, if you want to kill me…You can. No remarks just…Whatever.”

He stared at you. “...Well not if you're gonna be so pathetic about it. Takes all the fun out of it.” He offered a wry smirk.

You just tsked and rolled your eyes not too use this…Joking, helpful, decent Billy. Not since High school when it was supposedly all an act according to him.

He grew more serious as you didn't reply or smile. “YN, I can kill you. But there's no fun or reason when you're already so down. I have waited too long to kill you to do it when you're boring.”

You scoffed in disgust, “What am I? Game? I gotta run and fight for you to kill me?”

He shrugged with a smugbsmirk while smoking his cigarette.

You just narrowed your eyes and looked away. The silence etched on before Billy lit another cigarette. “If you're gonna bother me out here, let's not talk about killing or what we could or should have done. Let's change the subject...So… You're a writer now? Big hotshot writer, huh? Looking down on all the little people and Sidney's bratty cousin supposedly wanted a piece of that life too?”

“Hardly. My publicists edited my work so much it might as well have been ghost written…Jill can have it. I don't want fame. I never did.” You gave a glum sigh in reply. 

“Never?”

“Hell no.” You retorted bitterly. “I only wrote to make money and appease people.”

“Okay, what about ‘In Darkness’?”

…

That made you pause a beat or two.

You gave him an odd look. It completely took you out of your funky mood because…No, that must have been a slip of the tongue.

“You mean ‘Out of Darkness’?”

He eyed you, “No. In Darkness…By Robert Gray.” He gave matter of factly. A coy smile playing on his lips as you looked shocked. “Ah, that name is familiar to you, huh?”

“How…How did you??-”

No one knew about your fictional books that tanked on the side of writing ‘Out of Darkness’ for your ex publicists. Not even Randy when he was discarding the ‘cheap’ books off the table in his book store days ago including the one secretly written by you. He had no idea as he mumbled how no one read them. You just didn't say anything because of how badly it did.

You were so flabbergasted it creeped you out! Damn! Was Billy stalking you or something?? How of all people did he know your secret hobby??

Billy sighed heavily. Turning and leaning back on the railing as he answered your question. “...I don't know. Robert Gray? Pennywise's alter ego? The movie we obsessed over that one year calling Randy Ritchie just because he looked just like Seth Green's geeky ass just without the glasses? Remember Stu shoved those fake Halloween ones on his face to prove it?”

You…You actually smiled a little. So he did remember things, huh? Just like he tried acting like he remembered nothing from High School in Taco Bell's parking lot a decade ago.

“Then the whole title of in Darkness versus out of Darkness; do you think you're really smart or everyone else is extremely dumb?”

You couldn't help the shocked snort of laughter that escaped past your lips. Billy almost always made an effort to forget anything to do with your friendship in the past and here he made you remember a memory that actually started the whole ‘Seth Green versus Randy’ joke to begin with! Probably why Randy hated it so much because Billy of all people started it as a mockery. You had forgotten about it, really. You stared in a bit of wonder before…

Billy faltered looking shocked, “... Why are you crying, the fuck?” He almost panicked seeming unnerved by you just having tears springing to your eyes.

It was both happy and sad tears that involuntarily welled in your eyes at a much happier memory with a friend you just lost. “Sorry, sorry! Just brought back a good memory.” You said whilr smiling and wiping your eyes.

"Well, stop it!" He frowned but just blew air past his lips. “It's...It's too weird seeing you like this. Stop or I'm leaving. I mean it." He ordered with a scowl.

You shrugged but nodded still smiling at the memory. Momentarily forgetting Randy's death in place of young him pouting with a blush as you all laughed and replied ‘beep beep Ritchie’ after Billy pointed it out. Then it just snowballed to him being Seth Green as a playful jab to any nerdy character the actor played. Randy barely even looked like him; it was more just to get a reaction out of him.

But a much more shocking realization hit you.

“You really read it. I can't believe it…You…You read it? You read "In Darkness" by Robert Gray?”

“You mean by YN? Yeah…Yeah, I did. You make a smart ass remark about me being able to read and I'll toss you off this porch and onto the fence post.”

You ignored his bristling and mumbled, “I don't understand…Why? How?” You were so bewildered not expecting this at all.

The silence stretched out again as he seemed to ponder what he should tell you or even how much.

“A lot has happened in a decade…” He seemed to be getting a bit apprehensive. “Was dirt poor many times with work on and off. No cable once or twice and sometimes squatting in abandoned places too…I found the book and the pen name caught my eye. It was…Kinda just in a bargain bin. Anyways, I'm not usually a bookworm but what else did I have to do? So, I read it and…Fell in...I uh-” He stopped himself. “I really…Understood some characters, okay?”

You grinned.

"Ew, don't give me that look either. I don't like you, we're not friends, I still imagine gutting you-"

It fell on deaf ears. You were just flattered and excited to finally talk about your writing. Even shy and embarrassed at your creative writing on full display like this.

Billy side eyed you though. “But the one character…Fucking Bobby? Really? Bobby Lewis?”

You gave a grinning sort of cringe almost embarrassed to be caught. “Yeeaahhh…”

He rolled his eyes, “You wrote a character about me. Made him the troubled kid with mommy issues that was manipulated by the darkness like a pansy ass…I should punch for that or even gut you. And I swear to God, if you hinted Bobby was gay for Stan-” He gave you a menacing glare that made you shrink sheepishing back in your seat.

“No! No, honestly that scene was meant to be like they both are taken over by the 'darkness' they both share.” He side eyed you more. “Honest.”

“I doubt it. I should just at least backhand you for it.” But his tone wasn't very menacing as he snuffed out his cigarette in an old cracked ashtray that was sitting on his porch railing.

“...And?” You urged, curious what he thought. “Was it god awful?”

"Fucking horrible. Wanted to throw it away after a few pages. I'd hide my name too if I were you."

He looked surprised you chuckled, accepting it was deemed unpopular years ago.

He looked down a bit with an odd pondering expression which was something you hadn't seen in so long you forgot he was human enough to do it. “Well...Maybe you did okay. Not great but…Well shit, you acted like you actually knew what you were talking about. Like, you understood me. Like you could actually understand me of all people.” He rolled his eyes saying the last bit sarcastically.

“So, when did you realize it was you I wrote?”

He glanced over, “...When I found out it was you. Two damn years after reading this book…It's embarrassing, really. Your shitty little novel.”

You smiled in understanding. “When I came out with 'Out of Darkness'…Gave it away, hm?”

“Yep. Especially when a line in ‘In Darkness’ stuck out…Word for word the sentence was what I told you in that backyard when ‘Bobby’ goes to kill ‘Daisy’ by strangling her before the ‘Darkness’ takes over…I still got to beat the writer's ass for killing off my favorite character in the novel later on.” He joked wryly about you killing off his character.

“So…You read both my books? I thought you didn't? Thought you wanted to throw it in the trash after a few pages?” You teased.

“Oh shut the hell up.” He grumbled out. "I'm not too nice not to hit you, at least."

You couldn't help the snort of amusement. Not sharing this type of conversation with him in a very long time. The murder part shockingly felt…Well after tonight, it felt like a distant memory. “Yeah, that moment changed my life. In my parents backyard when…All this happened.” You admitted giving a broad hand gesture to the situation.

“You and me both…”

The silence stretched on but you felt lighter. Hearing what he had said. You sighed. “I'm glad you didn't hate it but it won't matter. My book sucked.”

“You think that?”

“Yeah. It tanked.” You admitted.

“…It wasn't that bad.” He countered with annoyance. "I was just...Pulling your leg it wasn't the worst thing I've read."

“It was. No one read it but a handful of people.”

“No one hardly reads a lot of books but some went on to be horror movie classics, dumbass.”

You raised a brow at his insistence. “I appreciate that but really I got turned down so much. It's why I changed my pen name so no one knew me. Just like you said-”

“Well, fuck them. I'm joking, idiot! They don't know what they're talking about. They weren't there. They got fiction from horse's mouth and still can't see it…You got the ability; You just gave up too quickly.” He almost seemed insulted. “It was dark. There was no sugarcoating. Now that may not be that sickening motivation book you wrote that got you rich but it had substance. I would gladly read a book of someone baring their innermost dark thoughts and showing the world not every story is a happy ending then unicorn shit self help garbage that's just lying to hopeful people.”

“...Cynical as always.” You looked over at him. “You mean it, though?...”

Billy faltered, looking down but shrugged. “Yeah…Yeah, I do.”

The awkwardness just wasn't going away with the gigantic elephant in the room. After a minute of you both in the chilly air not talking you finally said it. Getting some courage after his admission about your book.

“You really don't feel the same about me like you did a decade ago, do you? Can we just admit that? Please? Just be honest.”

He shrugged but didn't answer.

“Well, I'm asking because…I guess…I don't either.” Your face heated as you reluctantly admitted it. A lump in your chest that felt uncomfortable. “I mean, what we said and did last night should prove it.”

You were startled as he shoved off the railing to hobble on the porchas he went to go back inside abruptly.

“Billy, can we just talk about what we said-”

“No.” He cut you off.

“No?? Billy, what the hell-”

“I SAID, no.” He gave you a glare you saw so many times from him. “We were dying, losing blood, hallucinating probably, it was… Nothing!”

You didn't know why that both hurt and annoyed you but it did. You glared back because last night he said it! Said you were his and always had been now he wants to take it back after everything? After saving each other and almost dying and him being one of the few people to enjoy a book you put your heart into and now staying at his house? You shoved your hands in your pocket and remembered something else that needed to be said…

“Billy, we are grown adults. You admitted I was yours.”

“To kill.”

"Nuh uh. Do not do that. You said I was yours-"

"To kiilllll." He drew out in irritation.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my God...This again? Billy, just admit it! You don't hate me as much as you claim and I don't hate you." He didn't look at you but you saw his eyes widen slighlty at that. "We had a RARE moment important moment, damn it.”

He scoffed loudy and turned back to you with narrowed dark eyes. “YN, drop it! I was nice over a fucking shitty book, don't think we're friends here or god forbid whatever you're getting at, freak. I never did like you the way Stu did so get over yourself!” He grew irritated before you just did it.

“Alright. Fine. You're just asking for it.” You stood up slowly in pain but reached into your jacket.

“...What is that?” He looked confused as you unraveled the note. The one that had been in your jacket pocket for 2 or 3 days and needed to be addressed eventually. Thank God it wasn't searched at the hospital and Stu nabbed this jacket. You'd have to thank him somehow.

You cleared your throat, “...I can't fight this anymore. Not after fighting for our lives the way we did. Life is short, I know we went through so much but I have to tell you this-”

You had never seen Billy look so embarrassed in his life! Even his olive complexion showed a deep redness in his cheeks and his eyes widened to the size of saucer plates. “W-Where did you get that-” He stammered out as you got farther away from him and kept reading. 

“I have to tell you this…I never thought we'd make it and I'm glad you lived-”

“Give me the damn paper, YN!” He demanded rushing with his bum leg to snatch it as you easily evaded even if you too were injured. But at least your legs worked.

You went through him trying to blame Neil like the original plan was, “You're so lucky Mr Prescott gave you a shallow wound-” You gave him a dirty look as he was gonna give that to you and blame Neil. “Yada yada yada, blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit…Oh, I have to move on. We all do. That's why I have to tell you this-”

“YN! I swear to fucking God!” He exclaimed frantically trying to grab you or that paper as you both played a turtle pace version of keep away on the porch.

“I didn't know how much we needed each other till our lives depended on it. I'm falling for you.” You smacked the paper against your leg. “Along with a photo of me in your room! And a plan to meet at the water tower so you could ask me out or kill me but I SERIOUSLY doubt it because you would've killed me at the party or made letters to others and you definitely wouldn't have my picture if it was just to kill me.”

“How did you get that!?” He exclaimed with his fist clenched.

“Me and Randy raided your old house for evidence on the new killer a few days ago. Found this-” You shook the paper as it rattled. “Under the floorboard of your room.”

Billy's mouth hung open as he was so mortified at what you found. He quickly went to rush off the porch; anywhere but here before you risked grabbing his arm.

He glared at you and yanked it away, “What!? What more do you want, you damn arrogant noisey pain in my ass? Why are you bringing up skeletons that need to stay buried!?”

“Because you said I was yours last night!” You exclaimed. All before faltering. “...And I said I don't hate you…And…And…I didn't finish but…Fuck it. That I still give a damn. I still give a damn. I think we both half ass admitted to that a decade ago at my cabin and we're just being stubborn. I'm not saying love, I'm not that mushy or gullible please give me SOME credit but...I don't hate you even though I should.” You coughed out just as awkward as he was.

He stared at you. All before looking away curtly. “It doesn't matter. You are mine to kill okay? That's…That's what it was with this letter too. It's all it ever was. I was just luring you to the water tower to kill you and kept your picture as motivation. And last night? We're not friends, YN. We never were even in Woodsboro …I told you I was faking it and I meant it. Don't take me being merciful for actually liking someone like you.”

"Someone like me?"

"You want your feelings hurt so you can cry some more? I feel like you've done enough of that tonight." He coldly gave.

You stared at him and frowned. You actually…Wow, that actually hurt and you didn't want to know why but it did.

He averted his gaze, “Just don't go showing that stupid letter to Stu or you're getting tied up and dropped off at a police station, got it? I don't need his bullshit.”

You nodded with a tight frown. “Yeah…Yeah. Understood just wanted to clear things up…”

“Yeah well, they're cleared.” He jeered whilevlooking down at the ground and going back inside.

You sighed heavily feeling like you fucked it up again. You were actually bonding a bit and you just had to bring up the elephants in the room. And the harsh reality just made everything worse. A part of you felt like he was lying but it hurt nonetheless.

Little did you know…A certain someone wasn't sleeping. He was listening through the window he cracked open... Fist clenched tightly as his suspicion on you and Billy confirmed itself in his eyes.

————————

Billy got away from you and went straight to the bathroom. Locking the door away from you and Stu.

As soon as that door closed he slumped against the door frame and his stoic expression gave way to a vulnerability he'd never show anyone else. Feeling like a teen boy with a crush and he hated it. He hated it so damn much and would die before admitting it. Seeing you again just made all of this ten times worse.

He was so embarrassed over you finding that letter, and yet…His heart sped up a bit. He actually blushed. He hadn't felt that since High school with you. What a fool. A 33 year old moron getting all giddy over you just not hating him. He…Felt disgusting butterflies as you smirked and teased him with that damn blast from his past.

He felt so ridiculous. Crushing on you was weak ass Stu's job! But deep down…He knew. He knew himself well enough to know he was just scared of it. Look what happened last time he admitted his feelings to you? You ruined everything. You betrayed him. You were supposed to help them and instead you tried to turn them in. Now, you were a successful grown woman with a grown woman's body and nice perfume and hair and probably a better car than he could ever afford and dressed more mature and had more money than God and he was a psychotic grumpy loser living in a trailer with outdated furniture and nothing to offer not even emotionally. And to top it all off, you all were in hiding on the run from the law now.

And out of every woman ever…It was you. And he knew it. He knew a decade ago in the rain in your yard but couldn't admit it, not even to himself. No woman can go toe to toe with him, no woman could outwit him, no woman was as deep and interesting as you, no woman knew the pain he did but you.

He sighed heavily and looked in the mirror. 15 years ago he looked in that mirror crying how much he hated you and wanted you dead…Now it was pretending to keep up the act he hated you and wanted you dead.  It's like he spent so long shutting these emotions off and now they were barreling into him and he had no experience to change it. His last serious girlfriend was Sidney. All others were flings and one night stands. How did he deal with…Feelings? Weak, vulnerable, human feelings he tried to shut off? He wasn't like Stu who didn't feel love like a normal person. Oh no, Billy was cursed with just being a kid that snapped after feeling psychotic and yet he still had feelings towards people he just got very good at shutting off and trying not to get attached...You were the one attachment it seemed after years of persistence wouldn't go away. He knew arrogance and anger and power and revenge and lust and bloodlust but…God, he couldn't even say the word in his head without wanting to scream at the nasty corny messiness of it…Love. Christ, just shoot him! Between the motherfucking eyes!

Billy braced the sink looking at his reflection with sadness. Disappointment in himself. He realized years ago he didn't want to kill you and he was just playing tough as always. And after reading that book you didn't sugarcoat ‘Bobby’ but you didn't make him a monster either. You made him a vulnerable weak man angry at the world that let the darkness in and it felt like you knew him. No one knew him! If he hadn't read that stupid book of yours; he'd never feel so icky right now, damn it all!

He shoved a hand over his face to groan at the sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn't where he was stabbed as he remembered the sad look you gave him. He could kill just about anybody and could kill you but somehow these last few years you weaseled your way over his steel walls he built up. You were cornered, vulnerable, had nothing and no one and he still couldn't just be honest with himself let alone you. He could manipulate you to be his love obsessed slave if he wanted but he didn't want manipulation. He couldn't even say the damn word! Sidney was so easy to manipulate! You used to be! So what the fuck was the problem?!

He growled low in his throat at himself and glared in the mirror to himself as he put the sink on full blast to drown out any noise. “Stop it! You're being pathetic and weak! You're being a pussy whipped bitch right now! You are a fucking serial killer, damn it! She tried to turn you in, she tossed your caring aside once already, she tried to kill you, got your mother killed and acted just like…” He faltered as memories that held grudges onto were failing him…His mother was sicker, sicker than even he was. He knew deep down she got herself killed but he still had to blame you. It made it easier that way.

He saw his Mom's reflection in his mirror behind him, she tried talking. “Oh Billy…Billy, Billy, Billy-” And he just turned his head away. He had gotten use to seeing images of his mother in hallucinations over the years whenever he was sad or scared or vulnerable. He knew it wasn't real and just learned to cope like he did with murder and anything else.

“She is the enemy, Billy.” His Mom scolded. “She hurt you and used you, my son, my boy. If it wasn't for the cops; you think she'd be here? Don't be so naive!”

He sighed, running his hands through his shorter dark hair and saying out loud. “Stop! I don't need to hear it, I know! I know. Do NOT get attached anymore. Let her heal enough to not get us all caught and if I can't kill her then send her the fuck on her way.”

His thoughts were interrupted by you coming in and hearing Stu yell at you.

Son of a bitch…Fuck his life right now.

[sleepiereblogs]

If you would have told me while reading sequels suck or even terrible trilogy that THIS is where we would end up, I would faint (in the best possible way ofc). When I tell you I’ve kept my best friend updated on this since the very beginning when I was still reading on wattpad 😭. Love this fic so much, truly it’s taken me for a ride and I look forward to every update as they come out. Your writing skills are insane and the way you’ve essentially written three going on four different movies is incredible. It’s dedication and I’m so grateful for it!!

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 8

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N: holy fuck i'm back?

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire

It was the sound of men that woke You. Dazed somewhere in between the land of sleep and consciousness- the lead heavy feeling of dread settled in her gut as you opened your eyes. The hairs of the back of your neck- arms- raised straight and tall.

The sound of men.

A million horrible thoughts flashed through your mind- none of them you’d be willing to sit down and analyze too quickly- to send yourself down that spiral of dread and reality. It had been nearly three weeks since that dreadful man took the mask from your hands, and simply walked out into the forest without so much as an acknowledgement or a thank you. It had been a week of anger- a week of sorrow at the loss of the little companionship you’d been able to savor in this self-inflicted, necessary, prison. 

The sounds of whooping-

Gunshots.

Seven. 

You were up, moving in the dark. Your clothes- dirty from the work in the garden yesterday piled at the foot of your bed were already being pulled on. A light sweater- overalls, socks. Your bedroom door was open, with a straight shot to see the tunneling flashlights the group of men were carrying tearing through the dark of night. There’s a handgun in your bedside drawer- a 40 cal that belonged to your father. It felt heavy and cold but tucked neatly into the strap along the waist of your overalls. The extra clips tucked into the many pockets. 

Your chest, flat against the floor as you slid forward- arm outstretched. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Grabbing the large canvas bag pre-packed with essentials. Right next to it the long, cold cylindrical metal of a shotgun.

Yours.

You’d grimmance- but even though there were too many thoughts running through your mind it was silent. A horrible calm- the retracted muddy floor of the sea before a tsunami. The sound of the butt of the shotgun dragging against the wooden floors as you pulled it closer- up into your arms as if you were coddling a child hiding from the monster.

More gunshots.

Rifles. Close.

Three shots.

You slip into the kitchen at the sound of breaking glass- had they tried the door knob they’d have known that it wasn’t locked. Not here- not in her safe place. There had never been any stragglers in the years she’d spent here.

Not until he had come-

Wrapping preserved jars in fabric as quickly as you could- a satchel of fabric and dried meats, anything you could quickly grab and stuff into the bag to remain as quiet as possible without alerting them to the possibility of your presence.

They’re speaking- a language you can’t understand. Spanish, part of you offers up. The only logical language in this fucking occupation-

Footsteps, getting closer.

The cabinets in front of you illuminated, the glass reflecting back and flowing the tall figure of a man with a light on the end of his rifle.

Your heartbeat, pounding. 

Your grip tightens on the gun- finger inched towards the trigger. Dread’s cold claws digging into your skin- would you be fast enough? Could you truly fight back? Kill? What will they do with your body? 

You close your eyes, as tight as they can go- the sound of the man's footsteps on wood changes, now on tile. Now in the kitchen- behind nearly ten feet backwards and to the left.

You have no shoes- you have no plan. You are packed- ready for this, dreading the possibility but preparing for it since the day you came out here. 

You are not ready for this-

You are not ready for death, you are not ready to die- you are not ready.

Not ready-

Not ready at all-

The footsteps retract at the sound of a man calling from down the hall. Counting to ten, you peak your head out to see the backs of two men standing in the hallway daring to look into your bedroom.

The sound of drawers being opened- the sound of pillaging, rustling.

The bile rises in the back of your throat. Your eyes quickly snap to look at the pair of shoes sitting by the door. They’d both ducked into your bedroom completely, the sound of your socks against the flooring not registering. Grabbing both shoes- 

Laughing-

You crane your neck to the side, the sound of it- predatory and gleeful. Snickering and muttering little comments back and forth to each other. Peeking your head out barely from behind the line of sight of a beam you could see it. They stood in the doorway nearly chest to chest pawing over something shared between their hands- fighting over it like dogs ripping apart the corpse of an alleycat cornered in its home.

Held between two hands was a pair of your panties- being waved around like a prize.

You wanted to vomit.

Without thinking, the butt of the shotgun was shouldered against you. Feet squared. You take two steps to the right- thigh brushing up against the couch you’d spent so many hours lazing on. Staring up at the sky and dreaming of the future and better days- the flowers that came every year in the spring.

The sound of your foot scraping against the ground.

Their heads turn- stepping forward.

The sound of the shot didn’t register, only the kick against your shoulder. Suddenly the top and sides of the doorframe are much darker- a splatter against the wall.

The slump of two bodies.

The sounds of shouting.

The racking back and forth of the shotgun filling the ringing in your ears.

You're running- out the side door of the kitchen and away from the flashlights flickering across the lawn and into your home. There’s barely a sliver of moonlight in the sky, just enough light and the habitual knowledge of the land beneath you keeping you from tripping up and screaming in fear.

The flashlights flicker onto the glass in front of you- you see the hairs atop your head in your peripheral reflecting light. The blinding glare of a flashlight to the left of you catching up too quickly- not with the weight of your bag to keep up with.

He’s going to tackle you- you know this. You know that when he gets you down onto the ground you won’t be able to fight back. He’ll be too heavy- too strong.

You stop, spin as quickly as you can while raising the shotgun up- not enough time to properly shoulder it and fire. You feel nothing other than the pounding of your heartbeat and the adrenaline coursing through your veins. His body is still in motion, colliding with you and sending you tumbling to the ground.

The wet gurgling and the hot, sticky blood pouring onto you. The shotgun tossed somewhere to the side forgotten as you force down a gag- swallowing the vomit rising up in the back of your throat. You push your hands onto shoulders, only to be met with something you could only explain as hot hamburger meat.

You can feel the blood seeping out of the holes with the last pumps of his heart. Your pinky- slipping into one of the holes near his collarbone. You feel the bone- under the skin, trying to heave his dead weight off of you. Rolling, struggling, kicking your legs out and onto the ground trying to obtain better traction. Slipping your arm from the back weighing you down, you roll back and forth obtaining the smallest momentum and are able to push the corpse from your body and onto the grass beneath you. Staring up into the sky trying to spit the blood from your lips- blinded by the flashlight at the end of the rifle inches from your face.

[sleepiereblogs]

Accidentally read ch9 before this but it still played out beautifully. The horror of it all, the guilt Keegan must feel. This is so good 😭