#i couldn’t have a fucking conversation unless it was about st

[strangeswift]

who up grieving their faded hyperfixations because there is unfortunately nothing that makes you enjoy living more than being hyperfixated on a good piece of media and now it’s just gone.

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Three

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: An Increasingly concerned Nancy looks for Barb and finds out what Jonathan’s been up to. The boys pair up with El for an investigation. Joyce is convinced that Will and Steph are trying to talk to her. Meanwhile, Steve feels like someone’s watching his every move.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 15,209 (Oh, lord)

🎲Date: 05/27/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Talks of Kidnapping; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying (Lots of it); Brief Mention of Corpses; Gun Use; Implied Unloving Parents; Will & Steph's Mental Strain - Joyce's Too; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

-This also contains me not knowing how the fuck the Upside Down works despite so much research.-

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N:  So… this is a very long, very intense one. Very emotional too. Hopefully y'all are ready for this. I notice a lot of you readers are spitting out theories and I can't help but love them. But unfortunately I have to stay silent and let you guess wait 🤭. While rewatching this episode, I totally forgot how fucking good of an actress Winona Ryder is. Seriously, rewatch the scenes with her and the lights again and you'll see. Any who, Happy Memorial Day everyone! Enjoy!

Steve practically had to “bully” Tommy into taking his girlfriend home last night. It was hard for him to make eye contact with her after their argument – A real argument, not just some mindless bickering they’ve done in the past that doesn’t pack much heat, but a real, real argument – and when she came back to his room only a few minutes later telling him that Barb must have left already and needed a ride, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Was this making him feel and look like a coward? Probably. But it’s not like he didn’t want to risk having another eye opening conversation with her again.

Eye opening, my ass. There was no “eye opening”. I’m just being paranoid. But was he though?

Nancy, oh, sweet Nancy, always talked about how she was aiming for journalism as her major. For a while, to be honest, he couldn’t really see it. Sure, curiosity was practically tattooed on her heart, but the months they’ve been dating he hasn’t seen anything else that screams “I’m a Journalist”. 

That was until last night.

He’s not sure why he never put that box away after their friendship ended, he doesn’t know why he didn’t just stuff it into his closet or under his bed, but the fact that someone had found it in his spot he called “out of sight, out of mind” shocked him. The little box that could fit under his dresser, completely oblivious to anyone who stands next to it. Of course out of all the days for someone to finally have spotted it was the day he brought his girlfriend to his home (Still, it might have been better for her to find it rather than his parents. They sure were… nosy).

And of course she would be the one to break him down when he was trying to forget, forget because it was the best option here.

And his girlfriend was smart, one of the traits he most admired, and she could read through his lies most of the time, a trait he hates. Loathe. But… did he really think he could have avoided all this? That once he put a lid on their friendship she would suddenly vanish? Every single thing about Stephanie Henderson would be forgotten? That was the plan, the “dream” so to speak. I guess dreams don’t always stay dreams unless you put work into them.

.

“So who is she to you?” Nancy asked, standing up and flashing the memorabilia at him.

.

She was just… just some kid he knew since they were five. Nothing more than that, It shouldn’t be more than that. She was just some girl that had confidence radiating out of her as they lock pinkies and swore–

.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just curious.” Nancy replies, honestly. She takes another look at the photos in her hand before looking back at him. “I mean, if she isn’t your friend anymore, then why do you hang on to all this stuff? Or better question–”

“Nancy, stop, it’s just–”

“Why did you break it off?”

His brain short circuits again. “What?”

“I said, ‘Why did you break it off?’ I mean…” She flips through some of the photos he has, memorized. “From what I see, you two remind me of Barb and I. You two look like you were tied at the hip. So why break it off?”

.

Because he had to. He needed to. God knows if he didn’t, her and her family would be… Jeez. He could barely remember it, not wanting to remember it.

The memory was blurry. So blurry. Maybe it was the many hits in the head for his shitty memory, or maybe he was really, really trying not to remember it. 

What was his parents planning on doing again that made him so… scared?

.

“Look, I just want to understand you. I mean, every time I think I have you figured out you throw me through a loop.” She gives him a reassuring look as she picks up the box, shuffling whatever was remaining around. “I mean, from what I see, you seem like a completely different person then. I just wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad–” 

.

No… no. He still doesn’t understand what she meant. He hasn’t “changed”. He’s still the same person since the day he was born. What was she even getting that from? A couple glances at some photos gave her a new impression of him? There’s no way. It’s laughable. It’s totally laughable. Everything that’s happened between him and Henderson was totally laughab–

.

“‘CAUSE IT WAS MY FAULT!! OKAY?!” Steve snaps, startling them both (He can’t believe he just lost his cool like that). He swallows again, head spinning at the memories (Why did he fucking leave the box right there?). “I just… there was an incident and… it… shaped my decision, okay? But it didn’t involve me or her with a gun, it was… s-someone else. Someone I know. I don’t know why I’m holding onto it, I…” 

.

That certainly wasn’t laughable.

Sometimes that memory is hazy, which he preferred, but the other times it was crystal clear. Too clear. Just a heated exchange between him and someone else just before it went to shit. He still remembers the pain in his bicep, the wind feeling like it was getting knocked out of him with someone’s loud scream. Then came the sinking realization that Henderson wasn’t bouncing up to her feet like he did. 

It still… fucks with him sometimes. Taunting. Haunting. Torturing. 

.

Nancy breaks eye contact, and only reverses it when she gathers the right words. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry I intruded, I probably shouldn’t have but… I’m just trying to understand you.”

Steve shakes his head, still confused. “I-I…” He shrugs, and crosses his arms defensibly. “What’s there to understand?”

.

Exactly. There’s nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Nothing. She doesn’t need to go digging around Pandora’s box.

.

But Nancy looked at him with eyes full of pity and took another step closer. “I don’t know what the reason was for you two to stop being friends, but all I know, from what I gathered, she wasn’t the one to end it.” She places Steph’s flier on his chest that he subconsciously grabbed, and said one last thing before leaving his room. And that was,

“Maybe there was a good reason for you to end it, but that’s not an excuse for you to stop being who you really are.”

.

But I haven’t changed. I’ve been the same person since I was born. Even his own gut coiled at his denial. The heaven’s beyond were probably busting a lung. Hell was shaking its head. He just keeps telling himself that lie and maybe it’ll come true one day.

Yeah, right.

This boy’s been telling himself that for almost two years now and hasn’t even sunk in yet.

Steve sighs, rolling in his bed to face his alarm clock; The red numbers glaring at him. It hadn’t even gone off yet, he still has about an hour but… 

Another sigh. School. Right.

He didn’t even feel like going, too mentally exhausted from staying up pretty much all night, completely alone with his thoughts – His very dangerous, troubling thoughts. He didn’t want to go, but his parents were going to be home any minute now from their trip and were not going to be happy if they saw him just lying around. They were surely going to berate him for missing a day of learning. Except...

Fuck. Going wasn’t an option, his brain hurts and his body was dragging and he really, really didn’t want to see Nancy’s pitiful eyes, or listen to Tommy’s mocking, or Carol’s sexified comments. Fuck, no. Fuck.

Where can he hide out for the next eight hours? He started putting what was left of brain together as he threw something on, not even trying to dress to impress today, and snagged his precious car keys. He is about a foot outside his bedroom when something tells him to stop. His chocolate eyes stare at the box on the end of his bed, something deep inside tells him not to leave it unoccupied.

He swallows, wanting to tell his subconscious to fuck off and leave him be, but… 

“Fuck it.” He races back over, making sure the lid was on before taking it with him. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

It’s been… how many days since then? They don’t know. They stopped counting every time they ran into trouble. Like… right now. Traumatized by the beast pulling an innocent woman into the Harringtons’ pool and violating her before coming after them. They were lucky to have some kind of head start or otherwise they might have been goners. But–

Jesus. It was getting hard to breathe in this place, the cold weather was getting to them too. 

Eventually, miraculously, they had escaped from their predator when their bodies finally gave out.

“Fuck.” Stephanie gasped as the two of them collapsed in someone’s backyard. They both sat on their hands and knees, a line of sweat dripping off their icy noses. She sniffles and pants, her breath being seen in the air. “This is getting ridiculous.”

It really, really was. They can’t even take a break without worrying if that thing would come after them. 

How am I supposed to figure out how to get out of here if I can’t even stop to think? She sits back on her news, frowning. “Why does it keep coming after us?”

Will sneezes, and sniffles before resting his body against the side of the random house. He starts fiddling with his frigiding fingers, worried if he was going to say something wrong. “I don’t think this time it was. It looks like it was attacking someone else.”

“That’s true.” She sighs, taking her cap off for a second to rest. “However, we either were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or that thing was following us and grabbed the first prey it saw.”

He nods. “Yeah. But that doesn’t explain where the person came from. Does… that mean we aren’t the only people here?”

“I don’t know.” Are there actually more people here? “I mean, I guess on the bright side, if more people are going missing someone’s gotta know what’s going on, right?”

That honestly didn’t cross her mind at all while being here. She was so worried about keeping herself and especially Will alive that she didn’t think about what was going on on the other side. How was her family reacting? His family too? And what about the town? Did the police actually give a fuck this time?

I really hope it’s Hopper. He seems like the only one who gave shit last time. Stephanie prays he’s on her case as she subconsciously tries to grab the chain around her neck, only to find nothing. Her heart sinks as she looks down and feels around the front of her shirt.

“Shit.” She says, dreadfully. Did she really lose her–

“What?” Will replies, concerned. 

“Uh, I just…” Fuck. “I just uh, lost my necklace.” She frowns again. “I didn’t even realize it.”

Now it was his turn to look sad (I guess you could say he was just copying her expression). “We can go look for it if you like.”

She’s already shaking his head. “No. It’s okay. I could have lost it on the first day here without realizing it.”

“Can you replace it?”

“It’s… I don’t know. It was a gift.” She looks over at him, his expression seems so broken over her confession. “It’s okay, Will. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but still.”

Stephanie couldn’t help but crack a small smile on her peach lips, and ruffle the boy’s hair. “Don’t ever change, kid. You’ve got a good little heart.” That seemed to do the trick because the boy blushed and seemed all proud of himself.

“Do you think it’s safe to rest here for a bit?” Will asked, as she looked around.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I think we’ll be fine. How about you pull out the blanket?”

They both shrug their backpacks off, and keep their guns by their sides pointed safely away; Will unrolls the blanket they took from her house and scoots closer. Steph tucks the fabric under their feet before the boy snuggles up to her side. Dying from the cold was off the menu for the both of them. For most of the time they stayed quiet, controlling their breathing and rubbing their cold hands in their laps.

“There’s something I don’t understand though.” Will blurted out. I guess this was the thought that came to mind in the moment of silence.

“And what’s that?” The older girl asked, sparing him a glance.

“If that thing is supposed to… you know, kill people, then why bring them here?” He stares up at her nervously. “Why not just kill us in our world? Why the extra hassle to bring us here?”

Her eyes widened slightly, those words hitting her like a truck. “That’s… a good question.” A really good question. It was something else she hasn’t thought about either. If the beast could go between worlds, why bring them here for the kill? 

Will must have noticed the wheels turning in the girls head and looks down hopelessly. “It’s going to be hard for people to find us then, right?”

Stephanie says nothing, and gnaws on her bottom lip because he’s right. If they’re stuck in another world then…

.

.

.

How are their loved ones going to know?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Jonathan woke up the next day he wasn’t expecting his mother to be leaving before he did. “Mom? Where are you going?” He asked, as she stopped upon hearing him speak.

“Oh, I’m going to town. I’m going to pick up a few things.” She replies, putting her belongings into her purse. “I was… you know, thinking about maybe getting some stuff Will likes to eat so he can have it when he gets home. Or, you know–”

“Mom?”

“And maybe a new phone? Our old one’s obviously not fine, so–”

“Mom?” Jonathan tries again, getting a hum. “You sure you’re okay going by yourself? I can miss school again if you don’t feel comfortable yet.”

“No, no, don’t do that. Go… I just need to get out of the house. I’ve been stuck in here for a few days.” Joyce replies, reassuring her oldest. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” He nods. “But if something happens just… call the school and I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” She says, giving her a quick hug. “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll see you later.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

In the early morning at the Wheeler’s house, the boys were planning a mission to finally figure out what happened to their friends.

“We just tell our parents we have AV Club after school. That’ll give us at least a few hours for Operation Mirkwood.” Mike explains, the three of them gathered around the upside down D&D board.

“You seriously think that the weirdo knows where Will and Steph are?” Lucas said, making the other boy eye roll.

“Just trust me on this, okay? Did you get the supplies?”

“Yeah.” He nods, and shows off what he’s got. “Binoculars... from ‘Nam. Army knife... also from ‘Nam. Hammer, camouflage bandana…” He grins. “And the wrist rocket.”

Dustin looks at him strangely, almost laughing. “You’re gonna take out the Demogorgon with a slingshot?”

“First of all, it’s a wrist rocket. And second of all, the Demogorgon’s not real. It’s made up. But if there is something out there, I’m gonna shoot it in the eye–” Lucas snaps the rubber and startles his friend. “And blind it.”

“Dustin, what did you get?” Mike asked, trying to get straight to the point.

“Well, alrighty.” Dustin starts pouring stuff out of his bag, also proud of what he grabbed (Which is totally not what Mike told him to bring). “So, we’ve got... Nutty Bars, Bazooka, Pez, Smarties, Pringles, Nilla Wafers, apple, banana, and trail mix.”

“Seriously?” Lucas said, disappointed.

“We need energy for our travels. For stamina. And besides, why do we even need weapons anyway?” He points to the girl on the couch. “We have her.”

“She shut one door!”

“With her mind! Are you kidding me? That’s insane!” Dustin could almost laugh with all the stuff he could think of about her powers. “Imagine all the other cool stuff she could do. Like…” He quickly looks around and grabs a giant toy version of the Millennium Falcon. “I bet that she could make this fly!” He stands in front of El and holds it out. “Hey. Hey. Okay, concentrate. Okay?” He lets go of the toy that quickly drops to the floor. “Okay, one more time. Okay. Use your powers, okay?”

“Idiot.” Lucas mumbles once the toy drops to the floor again.

Mike sighs. “She’s not a dog!” He says, taking it away from him.

“Boys!” Karen calls out from above. “Time for school!”

He crouches down in front of Eleven as the rest of his friends make their way up stairs. “Just stay down here. Don’t make any noise, and don’t leave. If you get hungry, eat Dustin’s snacks, okay?” 

“Michael!”

“Coming!” Why must he be rushed? “You know those power lines?”

“Power lines?” El asked, confused.

“Yeah. The ones behind my house?”

“Yes.”

“Meet us there, after school.”

“After school?”

“Yeah, 3:15.” It took a second for Mike to realize that she didn’t understand. “Ah. Hang on.” He unstraps his watch and ties around her own wrist. “When the numbers read three-one-five, meet us there.”

“‘Three-one-five’.” She repeats.

He nods. “Yeah. Three-one-five.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Did you get any rest?”

Her tired blue eyes looked back at him, his face scrunched up in concern for the girl that almost tripped two seconds ago. And to answer his question, it was ‘no’. Their little rest had turned into sleep, but once again she couldn’t dare close her eyes with the beast lurking somewhere (She’s honestly surprised she’s still standing at this point).

“Yeah, I got a little.” She said, hoping that sounded convincing. 

Will narrows his eyes and steps in front of her, stopping them from walking any further. “No you didn’t.”

“Will–”

“Why aren’t you getting any sleep?”

She sucks in a breath. Guess there was no point in arguing with a twelve year old. “Because I’m keeping an eye out.” She tries taking a step around him but he follows.

“That’s bullshit.” He replies, shocking her (She’s honestly heard him cuss before. Which is ironic since he hangs out with three boys that act like cussing is their first language).

“Will, it’s true. I’m keeping an eye out.”

“Yeah, I understand. But you can’t keep missing sleep because of that.”

“Someone’s got to protect you. Just like I promise.”

“Well how are you supposed to do that when you can barely stand?” That seemed to strike a nerve. “Can you just… next time we sleep, I’ll watch and you actually sleep.”

“Will–”

“And, if I hear something, I’ll wake you up immediately. How’s that?”

Well… she can’t say no to that face. She sighs. “Okay. I’ll sleep.” She replies, getting him to smile. “But you wake me up if you hear anything, okay? Don’t you even think about doing the opposite and handling it yourself. I don’t want you to wound up hurt or dead. Got it?”

“Got it.” 

The two of them continued their unwanted detour that ended up being Hawkins’ little downtown. This place looked more like the apocalypse than their neighbourhoods. Dark, abandoned, quiet and completely trashed. It seemed a little scarier to walk around than the previous routes they took. 

“Maybe we can hide out somewhere here?” Will asked, as they stopped at an intersection to look around.

“Possibly. If anything’s open we can. I want to avoid making too much ruckus in case that’s what attracts the monster.” Steph said, thinking. 

They walked slowly and carefully by each store, peeking inside to see if anything got their attention. Stephanie blissfully sighs upon seeing a familiar sign and points.

“Dude, I kill for some chicken parmesan right now.” She says, smiling at the thought of eating Italian at ‘Enzo’s’. 

“Hmm, meatball’s sounds good. But I think I really want my mom’s Sloppy Joes.” Will admits, and can already picture it in front of him.

“Sloppy Joes are awesome too. I wouldn’t mind eating that when I get back either. Then Enzo’s.”

“Totally Enzo’s.” He chuckles. “Uh, so when we do get out of here, how do we explain this to someone?”

“What? This?” She gestures to the open air. “You mean that telling the authorities that we were abducted by an eight foot tall creature with just a mouth and brought to a creepier version of Hawkins doesn’t sound truthful?”

He makes a face. “I… I don’t know. They might think we’re crazy.”

“Crazy, but it’s true.” She shrugs. “I really do wonder how we’re going to explain this.”

“I hope my mom contacted Chief Hopper. I know they were good friends growing up, I’m sure he believes her.”

“I hope it’s him, I don’t really like some of the people he works with.”

Will tilts his head, confused. “You don’t like cops?”

“No, I don’t certain cops here. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them.”

“How come?”

“Well–” She cuts herself off and stops, eyes trailing to something inside one of the shops. She takes a second to make sure she’s seeing that right before pointing and saying, “November 6th.”

Will perks up at that. “That’s the day when we had our D&D campaign. The night we disappeared.”

“Yeah.” Steph looks around her hand following up to another object, a clock. “Nine Twenty-Three. That’s probably around the time we disappeared too.”

“But why is everything stuck this way?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, didn’t this place exist beforehand?” Will asked, head spinning. “How come everything is stuck on the night we disappeared?”

She purses her lips. “It… exist because of us? Or does time run differently here?”

“This is making my head hurt.”

She chuckles. “You and me both, kid.”

They continued their walk, popping into a few shops when they saw something useful, like another set of matches or even a sleeping bag they could share. They eventually ended up at a hunting store and scavenged there. Steph started grabbing a couple boxes of shotgun shells and ones that could fit inside Mr. Harrington’s pistol. It felt strange to have something like this in her possession, especially given the history of it. A very… bittersweet history of it. 

Stupid, Harring– The small box tv on the counter startled her when it made a noise. When her gaze locks onto it, she realizes it’s not even on. She sighs, shaking her head. Now I’m imagining shit? This is getting fucking ridiculous.

She starts making room inside her bag for the ammunition when–

.

|| –Those Poor Children. ||

.

Stephanie nearly drops everything and grips the gun and starts frantically searching for the voice. What in the fucking–

.

|| Jesus, I know. I can only imagine what their families are going through. ||

|| It’s such a shame– ||

.

“What the…?”

“Did you hear that too?” Will asked, eyes full of hope as she looked between him and empty space behind the counter.

“Huh? Um… Y-Yeah. I-I did.” She swallows and then realizes something. “Wait… is that what you– Is that what you were talking about?”

“Yeah!” He shakes his head eagerly. “I told you, I swear I could hear my mom and Jonathan talking that night. I told you I wasn’t crazy.”

Stephanie takes a deep breath, still in a bit of disbelief I mean– This changes everything she’s thought about this place. “If we can hear somebody, then…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was so shocking.

“Maybe we can talk to them. I know for a fact my mom heard me when I called the phone. She even responded when I talked back.”

“So it’s totally possible.” She goes silent to think, an idea coming to mind in a matter of seconds. She grins. “Follow me.”

Will of course does, a little intrigued by the fact that they found themselves climbing to the top of an old bell tower that overlooks most of Hawkins. “What is this place?”

“Somewhere I probably shouldn’t have been hanging out at when I was young.” Steph admits. “Don’t worry, the tower hasn’t been used in decades ‘cause the bell’s broken. Alright.” She smacks her hands together. “We have to figure out a way to get someone’s attention. Whether it’s your family, my family, friends, or hell, even some random stranger. We just need to get someone’s attention.”

“But how? I’m not even sure how any of this works.” Will asked, truthfully. He’s still not even really sure how he was able to contact his mom that night. 

She hums, scratching her head. “Where’s your house at?” He gets close to the edge, looks around and points to it in the distance. She nods and starts doing the same as she speaks, “Alright, well there’s mine, Lucas’, and Mike’s. So we got options. We just need to figure out how you were able to speak to your mom that night. If we can figure that out, maybe we can do it again.”

“All I really did was just dial my house’s number and she picked up.”

“Okay. Maybe it’s just that simple after all.”

“Well… I know whatever happened that night, it fired the house’s phone. We’re going to need a new phone.”

“We can get one. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll move on to another house. Hopefully, one of our friends will pick up.”

And they have to. This is our only plan right now. She waves for him to go first. “Careful going down, it’s more tricky than going up.”

“Okay.” He says, doing what he was told.

She starts to follow closely behind when another voice appears.

.

|| I am such an idiot. || 

.

She froze, her heart sinking again. She looks back at one of the corners of the tower, and an aching feeling in her gut.

“Steve?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve had a cigarette in one hand, and his other tangled up his own locks; One leg was dangling off the tower, while the rest of his body laid against the arch of the opening. Today was stupidly sunny, barely any clouds and no smell of precipitation in the air for a chance of rain – the aesthetic was the complete opposite of his mood right now.

He took a puff of nicotine and blew it out like a long, heavy sigh. The shit from last night keeps replaying in his head, provoking him to do or say something he’s probably not supposed to (or is supposed to, his subconscious yells at him) – He still doesn’t understand why he suddenly ended up here out of place. He could have gone to skull rock, or even the quarry, or maybe even just running around the mall hoping no one realizes he’s a teenager and asks why he’s not in school.

He groans, closing his eyes, listening to the traffic below and people bickering, praying nobody looks up and finds him here. Again, why did I pick this place?

“I am such an idiot.” He mutters, then the insecurities he had slowly started to fade away when he felt a presence nearby. Worried that maybe a cop finally found him, he changes his sadden look for something cooler before opening his eyes and looking. 

But strangely enough, no one was even there.

“Huh.” Steve blinks, swearing that he could feel someone was watching him. Maybe though? I mean, this was an old church that may or may not be haunted.

He shakes his head. “Fuck this.” He puts his bud out on the ground and stands up to leave.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Hey, Where’s Steve? I didn’t see his car in the parking lot.” Nancy asks, butting into Carol and Tommy’s conversation. She honestly wanted to see him to give him another apology, she still felt bad for prying so much about something she probably shouldn’t have seen. And I want to see if he’s in a good mental state today.

She watches the couple spare a look and gets worried, “What?”

“You haven’t seen him yet?” Carol said, as she shakes her head. “That’s weird.”

“Steve never skips school.” Tommy adds.

“What did you guys argue about last night?”

“Us?” Nancy said, pointing to herself. “You think he’s not here because we fought?”

“It’s a possibility. He finally has a girlfriend who’s charm finally made the King skip class.” Carol said, arms cross. “I’d say that’s an achievement.”

She scoffs. “First of all, It was just a disagreement, nothing more. A second, there’s no way that’s the reason he’s not here.”

“Maybe you hit one of his insecurities you were yelling about last night.”

Nancy holds her tongue and ends up just leaving in a huff. Every time she thinks she’s finally on their level, she’s pushed back down. She sighs and enters her first class of the day. Her gaze follows over to where her friend would be at, but atlas, her desk was empty.

She reaches out and taps the girl in front of her shoulder. “Hey, Ally. Where’s Barb?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Um, shouldn’t you know?”

Nancy’s stomach dropped. “You haven’t seen her anywhere... at all?” 

Ally shakes her head just as the bell rings and everyone’s ordered to sit down, leaving the Wheeler to wonder if she stayed home too because of their bickering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“There she is. Emerald City.” Powell announced as they pulled up to the one and only laboratory in Hawkins. They were going off really their only lead at this point, and hoping it plays out.

“I heard they make space weapons in there.” Callahan replies, getting a look. 

“Space weapons?”

“Yeah. You know, like, Reagan’s Star Wars. I guess we’re gonna blow the Ruskies to smithereens.”

“Hey, can I help you?” The guard asked once the police car rolled to a stop just in front of the gate.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here for a tour.” Hopper lied.

“Oh, we don’t give tours.”

“Okay... A quick look around.”

“You have to get clearance for that. You can contact, uh... Rick Schaeffer at the Department of Energy.”

“Maybe you seen it on TV.” Hopper pushes, not backing down from this. “We got two local kids missing. We have reason to believe they might have snuck in here.”

“Like I said, you have to speak to Mr. Schaeffer.”

Hopper exhaled through his nose, and turned the car and placed his hat on the dashboard; His partners beside him grew quiet, and let him have at it. “What’s your name?”

“Patrick.” 

“Patrick, I got a panicked mayor, and I got reporters breathing down my neck and I got two very upset mothers.” He said, his face growing softer, more wounded like. “Now, I know the kid’s not in there, but I gotta check off this box. Patrick, would you do me a favor? Would you speak to your boss and see what you can swing for us? I’d really appreciate it. I’m talking ten minutes, tops.”

Just ten minutes to see if they were in there. That’s all that the police chief needs…

And wants.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve heads inside the shop nearby, his stomach growling for food. It completely slipped his mind this morning – or afternoon now – he’s completely lost track of time. 

Now what kind of junk sounds appetizing today? He starts wandering around, not at all familiar with this layout or the shop for that matter (Why didn’t he just go to the sandwich shop next door again?). As he slips through one of the aisles, he notices the person in front of him struggling to reach for something off the high shelf. 

Deciding to be a nice boy, he reaches up and grabs it down for her. “Here you go, Ma’am.”

“Oh, thank you.” She said, surprised and grateful. “How kind of you.”

“Early Christmas shopping?” 

“Oh, I wish. No, I just need a new phone in case my son calls the house.”

He nods. “Your son lives far then?”

“Um, no, h-he’s missing.”

Oh?

Oh…

Oh!

Steve’s eyes widened at the realization. “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You’re that kid’s mother.”

“I am.” Joyce says, shifting her weight around. 

“Am… so sorry, I-I didn’t know, I–”

“Like you said, you didn’t know.” She puts the phone into the shopping cart. “It’s okay.”

“Okay, um…” This was awkward, right? Steve shifted on his feet too, not really sure how to wrap this up. “Uh, do you have… uh… heard any updates?”

Joyce shakes her head, sadly. “Not yet. I know the Police Chief has put many of his guys and volunteers to work. But I think at this point they covered all of Hawkins.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just, uh–” He trails off, struggling to make a sentence. “Sorry, I was just being nosy. I don’t really hear much news, I…” He swallows. “I went to school with the Henderson girl, so...”

Is he making any sense? Hopefully she’s understanding what he means– Fuck, his heart’s racing so fast.

“Oh, yeah?” Joyce said, looking bittersweet – Looking like she was a mother staring at her hurt child (How come his own mother never looked at him like that?). “Must be hard knowing someone you knew is missing.”

Damn, right on the money. “Yeah.” He says, his throat feeling tight.

She hums, and then gives him a stern expression. “Shouldn’t you be in school though?”

Annnnddddd… Fuck. 

Nice Going, Harrington. He scolded himself as he racked his brain for a believable lie. “Oh, uh, I-I graduated already. I was a grade ahead.”

“Oh.” She says, apologetically. “My mistake.”

“No worries, seriously. It happens all the time.” At least he didn’t say something stupid, and needs to get out of this conversation before he does but… damn his little heart sometimes. “Uh–” He gestures to her cart full of different items. “Do you want me to pay for some of that? For bothering you? Or uh, I… I know you’re probably–”

“Oh, no!” She shakes her head. “No. Thanks, but I can get it. Money’s a little tight, I’ll admit, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You know?”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I appreciate the offer.” Joyce smiles, and subconsciously pats the young man on his shoulder. “You’re very sweet. Take care.”

“You too.” He says, seeing this as he exits and walks past her.

Joyce watches as he turns to another aisle, growing a bit sad by the interaction. 

Alright, do I have everything? She has a new phone, some groceries– things she knows Will would like– 

The display of string lights flickered for a second.

Confused, thinking most likely it was probably a short circuit, she doesn’t understand why she ended up muttering her youngest name, “Will.”

Coincidentally, the light flickers shortly afterwards. “Will!” She says, again, hope blooming in her chest. Then, all the lights on the display shined for a few seconds. 

God, call her crazy, but maybe this was a sign that her son is still close by.

Before anyone could blink, the checkout counter was filled up with so many boxes of Christmas lights, some just the basic color, and some of the tri-colors. She can only imagine how much this is going to cost her, but who cares! If this is strangely how she can talk to her son, then this is what she shall do.

Her Boss, who was the clerk for the day, looks at her worriedly. “Joyce–”

“Just ring me up, Donald.” Is all she said, patiently waiting until he was all finished. Without sparing another word, she gathers all the bags into her hands and races to her car.

Donald sighs while watching her leave. “That poor woman.” He says, just as Steve comes up to the counter with his snacks and drinks. He raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be minding your own business?” Steve said, becoming bitter again.

“Mmm, hmm.” He scans everything and a price pops up on his screen. “That’ll be Five-Fifty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Found a phone.” Will said, almost immediately as they entered. It shouldn’t be a shock since this is the place his mother works at.

“That should work.” Steph said, smiling. “Let’s get a move on.”

Will gets up on his tippy toes to grab it, slowly pulling it off the shelf when something presses his hand. Startled, he falls back and the older girl grabs the box before it falls. 

“What happened?” She asked, worriedly.

“S-Something touched me.” He says, taking a step back.

“What?” She hands him the box and peeks over the shelf herself (She’s not exactly tall either). There was nothing odd out of the ordinary, just the normal dust and native plants that grew in this world. She frowns. “I don’t really see anything.”

Suddenly the display of lights flickered. Out of instinct her hand reaches for the pistol at her side. Then her heart sinks at the next thing.

.

|| Uh, do you want me to pay for some of that? I know you’re probably– || 

.

“Steve?” Stephanie says, surprised. 

So she wasn’t crazy after all. She did hear him. 

Will looked up at her, stunned too. “Steve Harrington?” He asked, but before she could speak another voice could be heard.

.

|| –I can get it. Money’s a little tight, I’ll admit, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You know? ||

|| You sure? ||

|| Yes. I appreciate the offer. You’re very sweet. Take care. || 

.

“Mrs. Byers?/Mom?!” They both erupted, then went quiet to see if they could hear anything else.

Nothing.

“Shit.” The oldest said, and now gnawing on her lip again, nervously (And completely forgetting about Steve for the time being). “That might have been our chance.” She hears the boy drop the phone somewhere next to her. “Will?”

The boy seemed fascinated with an idea swirling around in his head. Stephanie finds herself just watching, waiting to see what he had in mind. Will reaches up and lets his fingers brush the display of some string lights, the lights getting a little bit hazy – It was almost like his touch was giving them electricity. 

.

|| Will. || 

.

Joyce’s voice broke through very faintly, but they both heard it and nearly cried.

“Touch the light again.” Steph said, urgently. Will does what he’s told and they both stay quiet again.

.

|| Will! ||

.

“She hears us.” He says, happily. 

“Holy shit…” She chuckles. “I have an idea. Touch all the lights.”

Frantically, they rush to touch all the lights they saw on display, not even questioning how this was even possible, they just hoped Joyce got the message. Once the hue died down they both held their breaths, and crossed their fingers. And then…

.

|| Just ring me up, Donald. ||

.

Stephanie threw her hands up. “Yes!” She says, with Will laughing beside her. “Thank you, Ms. Byers.”

“My mom’s the best.” He said, with a warm look.

“Hell, yeah she is. And forget the phone–” She locks eyes with him, determined. “I think we figured out a better way to communicate.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you think these missing kids may have crawled through there?” 

Hopper spares the man a glance before looking back at the drain. Somehow, he convinced the security guard to let him and his guys in, but so far their theories are turning out pretty sour. “Well, that was the idea.”

Their “Tour Guide”, I guess you can call him that, made a fact that was all smug and prideful. “Yeah, I just don’t see how that’d be possible. We’ve got over 100 cameras. Every square inch covered, plus all my guys. No one breaks in here. Certainly not some kids.”

Hopper perked up at the news, eyes trailing to a few cameras in view. Now it was his turn to be the smug one as he asked, “Those cameras, you keep the tapes?”

Well… I don’t think the guide was expecting that reaction.

Now, the three of them were following the man inside, the hallways swarmed with men in lab coats, and a security team blocking a room that was marked “hazardous”. 

The police Chief found this a bit suspicious and asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you guys do in here?”

The guide chuckles. “You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“Staying one step ahead of the Russians?”

“I expect. Something like that.”

“Who’s in charge here?”

“That’d be Dr. Brenner.”

“And he builds the space lasers?” Callahan asked, eagerly. 

“Space lasers?”

“Ignore him.” Hopper replies, sighing. They eventually entered the surveillance room, the three of them watching the screen closely. “This is the night of the 6th and 7th we’re seeing here?”

“That’s correct.”

Hopper narrows his eyes, waiting to see if he sees anything unusual. However, to his surprise, the tape only lasted less than a minute. “Is that it?” He asked, in disbelief. 

“Like I said, we would have seen them.”

And then the cops were practically shoved out of there, and the guide gives them their condolences for the tired search (Yeah, what an asshole, right?).

“The night of the 7th, we had a search party out for Will and Stephanie. You remember anything about that night?” Hopper asked, seeing if he wasn’t the only suspicious one. 

“Mmm, not much to remember. Called it off.” Callahan replies, thinking.

 “‘Cause of the storm.” Powell adds.

“Yeah, a lot of rain that night.” Hopper says, arriving at their car. “You see any rain on that tape?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” He spares a look at the building, a sinking feeling in his gut. “But they’re lying.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the boys were outside shifting through the playground for some rocks. Mike picks one up and shows it off. “How about this one?”

Dustin looks and shakes his head. “Too big for the sling.” He says, getting on his knees to do some digging. “So, do you think Eleven was born with her powers, like the X-Men, or do you think she acquired them, like... like Green Lantern?

“She’s not a superhero. She’s a weirdo.” Lucas replies, rolling his eyes.

“Why does that matter?” Mike snaps, offended. “The X-Men are weirdos.” 

“If you love her so much, why don’t you marry her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mike, seriously?”

“What?”

“You look at her all, like…” Lucas makes a giggly face, and softens his body language, followed by a higher pitched voice, “‘Hi, El! El! El! El! I love you so much! Would you marry me’?” 

“Shut up, Lucas.”

“Yeah, shut up, Lucas.” Their bully, Troy, announced as he stomped towards the group. “What are you losers doing back here?”

“Probably looking for their missing friends.” James said, smirking.

“That’s not funny. It’s serious. They’re in danger.” Dustin hisses, annoyed.

“I hate to break it to you, Toothless, but they’re not in danger.” Troy bites back. “They’re dead. That’s what my dad says. He said that Byers was probably killed by some other queer. And maybe your sister’s been killed by some crazy stalker who is into weirdos like her.”

The two bullies laugh as Dustin looks like he’s about to strangle someone. No one says anything about Will like that. And nobody especially says something like that about his big sister.

Mike sees this, and puts his arm in front of his friend to soothe him. “Come on. Just ignore them.” He says, and starts to leave, only to be tripped – and face planted into the ground.

“Watch where you’re going, Frogface.” Troy spats, but he instantly gets a taste of his own medicine. 

To everyone’s surprise, Dustin was the one to deliver the karma, which was forcibly shoving him to the ground. 

Everyone stared, and before someone could speak he shoved James too and scrambled to pick up Mike.

“Lucas! Let’s go!” Dustin yells, and silently tells Mike to go. As they were leaving, he flips the bullies the bird and snaps, “You shitheads need to keep Will and Phanie’s name out of your mouths! Got it?!”

And then they broke off into a Usain Bolt type sprint.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

They finally ended up back on Mirkwood, guns loaded, backpacks full, and hope in their chest. If this works, if Joyce does this right, then maybe they can finally communicate to the other side. All they needed to do was tell her where they are, and maybe they could figure out a way to get back. 

It sounded easy, and they just hoped it was.

The two of them were silent for most of the walk, and when they got to this specific road, the boy grabbed her hand, shaking. She says nothing, ‘cause nothing needs to be said about it. If that’s what made him feel safe then so be it.

“Do you think it’s negative emotions?” Will eventually said, breaking the ice.

Stephanie tilts her head, confused. “Hmm?”

“Do you think that’s how we can hear some people? Through negative emotions?” He looks up at her. “Like my mom, she must be worried about me, maybe that’s why we can hear her?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, shocked. It’s definitely a plausible theory (But would that apply to Steve as well? And if so, why is he so worried?). “Maybe.”

“But would that go with us too?” He adds, the wheels in his head really were turning today. “I mean, is that how the beast picks their victims? Because they’re in a bad mental state?”

Well, now that makes sense if you put it that way. “It’s possible.” She said, nodding. Yeah, that’s completely possible. 

It explains a lot of things. More or so she wanted to admit. She knows these last two years were… interesting to say the least. Definitely could qualify as a ‘Bad Mental State’. And… she also has felt a bit stressed about school and talks about her future. But if she knew herself was in a bad state, then that means–

“Then… are you okay?” Steph asked, realizing something. The boy froze, like actually froze when she said that. It was a trippy sight to see. “Will?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” She tries again, a bit gentler this time. “Mentally?” Nothing. “Will–

“I… I’m fine.” 

And then he lets go of her hand and starts walking a bit quicker– not even realizing he was doing so. She stops, concern on her face. She wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from a simple yes or no question. She makes a note for herself that when they do get out of here she’s going to have a talk with him (Or at least tell Joyce about her concerns).

She sighs. Always got to be the therapist, Henderson.

She takes a step to move but stops, her eyes trailing off the road to her right, right into the void of the trees. It was weird. She felt like someone was standing right there – The same kind of presence back at the clock tower. 

“Huh.” She turns her attention back in front of her, then proceeds to freak out a bit when she notices how far Will was. She cusses and breaks into a sprint to catch up quickly.

Completely unaware of who that presence really was. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve steps over the barricades, his feet sinking into the leaves. Curiosity got the best of him you could say, or maybe the conversation last night really was getting under his skin (Like he’ll ever admit that), but he found himself here. Standing at a… crime scene, I guess. 

Her car went off road with herself and the Byers boy in it. Not long afterwards, they ditched it. 

His brown orbs trailed from the tree the vehicle hit and down the long road. He also knows, from what he’s heard, they both ran back to the boy’s house and then the trail went cold after that. But that’s the part that tickled his brain a bit. 

Why run all the way back home, a place you’re probably the safest at, and then leave it? It didn’t make sense in his book. Hell, it shouldn’t make sense in anybody’s book. What was the urge for them to run away from home and into the thick woods that surrounds Hawkins? 

He rubbed his chin and started thinking like he was going to solve this or whatever. Like…

He then scoffs at himself. 

What the fuck am I even doing? What is he doing? Why did he drive himself here? It’s not like he should care anymore. I mean, he shouldn’t care anymore. His parents would have his head if they knew–

Then there it is again.

That strange feeling that someone’s watching him. 

He turns around, half expecting a cop to be there to scold him, the other half expecting nothing and– Oh! What do you know? It was nothing. 

But even if it was nothing, he swears someone is standing there, watching his every move. Almost like this presence was here to judge him and see what other stupid things he can do today.

It was definitely giving him the heebie-jeebies.

He frowns, and looks away. “What the fuck…?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It took her an hour, but Joyce got all the lights up. She strung them all through the house, up along the wall and hanging gently off the ceiling. She hopes that she’s not losing her mind – She knows how silly this looks; Putting up Christmas lights in November (I mean, the holiday’s not that far off but still). She was expecting some reaction to happen, some or maybe all of them would immediately start blinking; Instead, her doorbell rings and she’s met with Karen Wheeler.  

Not wanting to be rude, Joyce invited her and her youngest in. Karen pops in a casserole she made into the oven, sitting next to the worried mother and tries to see what state she was in.

Joyce chuckles nervously when her guest notices the festive decoration. “Will always loved Christmas, you know. So I thought if I... I put the lights up... I don’t know, he... I’d feel like he was home somehow.” She covers part of her face with her hand. “I-It’s silly, I-I know…”

Karen shakes her head. “No. No, it’s not silly.” She takes the other woman’s hand in hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. “How is Jonathan holding up?”

Joyce takes a deep breath. “You know, he’s good at taking care of himself. He always has been, you know? I…” She scoffs. “I mean, he thinks I’m losing my mind, but…”

“Joyce.” Karen says, softly. “I want you to know something. If you need anything, anything at all... Ted and I are here for you.”

This sentimental moment caused them both to become oblivious to the lights flickering on in the hallway, a walkway pointing towards Will’s room. The only one who didn’t miss it was Holly, who was now sliding off her chair to follow.

“Thank you.” Joyce said, sincerely. 

Karen smiles. “Okay.”

The two women continued to talk, Joyce even bringing up Mike’s feelings about the whole thing – and even wondered if Claudia and Dustin were okay too. Meanwhile, little Holly Wheeler watched the lights flickered on and off, guiding her to the bedroom. Her eyes watched in awe as the many, many lamps that were lingered around Will’s room turned off and on one-by-one in a symphony-like way.

She giggles and claps, excited to watch this “show”. Then…

They all stopped and the nightmare began. 

Her happiness starts to pool away as she hears a scary sound. She then turns white as a ghost when she notices one of the walls was moving and stretching out towards her.

Who knows what would have happened if Joyce hadn’t come in and grabbed Holly, handing her back to her mother. 

“She shouldn’t be here.” Joyce said, scared in both tone and facial expression. 

Karen didn’t notice the seriousness of her look as she apologizes, “Oh, I’m sorry. She’s quite the explorer these days.”

“Wait, did you see something?” The worried Byers brushes her off, and the little girl nods quickly. “What did... what did you see? Tell me. What did you see?”

“Joyce!” The blonde scolds, but she’s already being shooed away.

“Karen, thank you for the casserole, but I need you to leave.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy tapped her foot repeatedly, impatiently waiting for the person to pick up the phone. “Come on, come on, come on…” She mumbled, gripping the payphone tight. “Come on–”

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

Oh, thank god. “Hi!” She says, eagerly. “Hi, uh, Ms. Holland, it’s Nancy.”

[ ‘Oh, Nancy, how are you?’ ]

“Good. I’m good. Um, I was just wondering, uh, is Barb there?”

[ ‘Mmm... No, she hasn’t come home yet.’ ]

“But she did come home, right? After the vigil?”

[ ‘No, she said she was staying with you last night.’ ] 

Shit. Nancy mentally scolds herself. “Right, yes. She did, sorry. I meant, did she come home this morning? I think she left some textbooks and she was gonna go pick them up.”

[ ‘Oh, um, no, I haven’t seen her.’ ]

“Do– do you know what? I just remembered... she’s at the library.”

[ ‘Nancy, will you please have her call me as soon as you find her?’ ]

“Yeah.” She shakes her head, frowning at how worried Barb’s mother was sounding. “Yeah, I will. Sorry to bother you.”

She hangs up the phone, frustrated. This wasn’t like Barb at all. In the past when they’ve had some disagreements, she’s never once disappeared like this. The only thing Barb’s ever done that was “extreme” was she did the silent treatment for most of the school day. 

This is so weird. This whole day’s been weird. She sighs and digs out some more change for the machine, and dials another number she knows by heart. The whole time as it rang she was nipping at the tip of her thumb. To her surprise, a voice she’s never heard before answered the phone.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

The voice was a bit husky, but sweet with a pinch of sass. 

Nancy’s confused, and twirls the phone cord around her finger. “Oh, I’m sorry, who’s this?” She asked, wondering if she dialed the number wrong. “Is this the–”

[ ‘This is Jessica. How can I help you?’ ]

Jessica?

Jessica?

Jessica? Who’s…

Her eyes widened. 

Oh.

Now she recognizes the name. 

It was Steve’s mother – The woman she hasn’t met yet – The woman she’s “meeting” for the first time over the phone.

She swallows, nervously. “Oh, I-I’m… sorry. I was trying to get a hold of Steve.” She replies, feeling a bit awkward (and nervous?).

[ ‘Steven? And who are you to him?’ ]

Well she sounds lovely. She can hear the snobbishness in her tone, almost offended that someone was calling for her son. That’s a little weird.

“Um, I’m his girlfriend.” Nancy replies, trying to sound confident. “I was just wondering if he’s home? I haven’t seen him at school day and I’m a little worried.”

Then came the very long, very uncomfortable pause. For a second there she thought the mom hung up, it was so quiet.

[ ‘Girlfriend? That’s new. ]

“Did Steve not tell you about us?” Nancy asked, a bit hurt and a bit confused. He seemed so proud to show the whole school that they were dating, how come he never told his mother?

[ ‘What’s your name?’ ]

Skipping my question. I love it. “Um, Nancy. Nancy Wheeler, Ma’am.”

[ ‘Wheeler, you said?’ ]

“Um, yes.” Now she was puzzled even more. Was this a bad thing–

[ ‘That’s wonderful!’ ] 

Nancy blinks. “It… is?”

[ ‘My son’s dating a Wheeler! I almost can’t believe it.’ ]

And the woman was laughing with joy(?), which Nancy puts to the side. She just needs to get an answer to her own simple question. “That’s… wonderful, um… is Steve there?”

[ ‘No, he’s not. *Sigh* I swear if that boy’s skipping school, we’re going to have a problem.’ ]

And I think I just made everything worse. She straightens herself up, ready to end this. “Okay, Well… thanks, Mrs. Harrington, I’ll see if he’s maybe hiding out somewhere in the school.”

[ ‘Okay. Well, you have a good rest of your day, sweetheart.’ ]

Sweetheart? Nancy shakes her head again. “Thanks. You too.” She hangs up the phone. Well that was even weirder than the last one.

She crosses her arms, turning to head inside only her eyes to beeline to Carol and Tommy following someone closely – Tommy looking pissed off, especially. 

“What the heck?” She says, and hurries towards them.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper and his partner entered the library with an idea – an idea hanging on a very thin thread that is. So, he puts on his best smile and takes off his hat, strolling up to the woman at the desk. “Hey, Marissa. How you doin’?”

The librarian pursed her lips. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

He blinks. “What?”

“You could have at least called, said, ‘Marissa! Hey, it’s not gonna work out. Sorry I wasted your time. I’m a dіck’.”

Oh, now he remembers. “Yep.” He said, agreeing immediately. “I’m sorry. Uh... Maybe we could go out again next week?” She, and even Powell, made a face at him that gave him his answer. He smacks his lips and looks around. “Newspapers? You guys got newspapers around here?”

Marissa nods and shows them where they all are. “We have the New York Times, the Post, all the big ones. Organized by year and topic. You can find the corresponding microfiche in the reading room.”

“Okay, we’re looking for anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be looking for that missing kid?”

“Yeah. We are.” Hopper pushes, and adds, “So, why don’t you start with the Times, and we’ll check out the Post.”

She scoffs in disbelief and walks off, Powell stepping up with a look on his face. “The librarian?” He said, getting a shrug.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy sped up when she saw who they were stalking in the parking lot. Why would two people like Tommy and Carol go after a kid like Jonathan Byers? Nothing that went through her mind would give her that answer. When she got closer is when it got more intense. 

Tommy was practically manhandling Jonathan, yelling and trying to take his bag away from him. The eldest Wheeler sped up even more, full on running now.

She manages to step between the two of them, arms out in defense. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“This creep was spying on us last night!” Tommy said, pointing furiously. “Nicole says he was taking pictures of us by the pool.”

“I was looking for my brother.” Jonathan replies, holding his bag close.

“Bullshit. Now let me see.”

“Back off!”

Nancy steps in between them again. “Tommy, stop!” She yells, making him scoff.

“You’re defending this creep, Wheeler?” Carol asked, in disgust.

“First of all, you really going to believe what Nicole said? The girl’s like the boy who cried wolf.”

“Nancy–”

“Lastly, so what if he has photos of us at the pool? It wasn’t like we’re naked.”

“Naked or not, he still took pictures of us!” Tommy snaps, taking a step closer as she takes a step back.

“Pictures or not, he was looking for his brother–”

“How do you know, huh? How?”

“Because he’s been hanging out missing poster signs of him and missing school because he’s the big brother.” Nancy looks over her shoulder, locking eyes with Jonathan. “Go.” He hesitates. “Go, man!”

Not wasting another opportunity, he hustles off towards his car. Tommy tries to lunge towards him, but Nancy isn’t letting up.

“What the fuck, Nancy?!” Tommy shouted, and she chose to ignore him by walking away once she knew Jonathan wasn’t around. “Nancy!”

“Nancy, get back here!” Carol yelled.

“Nancy, you such a fucking princess! Wait until your boyfriend hears about this!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Dude, I can’t believe you did that!” Lucas said, as they bike away from the school. “You know Troy and James are not going to let that slide.”

“I don’t care!” Dustin says, bitterly (and if he could cross his arms right now he would). “I don’t like when people bad mouth my friends, bad mouth my sister! I mean, for Christ’s sake, she was giving Will a ride home. What’s so bad about that?”

He doesn’t care if James’s waiting tomorrow to give him a wedgie, or Troy’s fist plummeting into his face, he doesn’t care. Both Will and Phanie had their fair share of bullying themselves, or whispers of derogatory names and speeches – All because Will was the “quiet kid” and wears “colorful” clothing; All because his sister wasn’t a “girly-girl” and a total nerd. He’s heard that all throughout his life, and sometimes he said something, sometimes he stays silent when told too – He probably should have done that today.

But those… fucking bullies just had to poke him when he was the most stress. Stressed out with each day that none of them had come home.

Jeez, he’s either going to get scolded or praised by his mother if she finds out about that interaction. 

“And don’t even try to convince me to beg them for forgiveness. They don’t deserve it and I’m standing my ground.” Dustin adds, shutting his friend up. As they rode closer and closer to their houses, he frowned, worriedly.

I just hope El knows what she’s talking about. He just wants to find them both soon (Safe and sound would be a plus).

The boys continued to ride until they arrived at the power lines behind the Wheelers’ house. Mike shouted and told the girl to hope on, warning all of them they only had a few hours to pull this off.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce was standing in her kitchen with a cigarette when Chester started barking. She looks up to see the lights in the living room start flickering, and hurries in there. As soon as she entered they died down. Then, slowly the light directly above her activated, and then made a pathway to the other side of the room. Her fingers laced around them, and followed, ending up being directed at a bundle of them lying on the floor.

She rushes to take them in her hands, sitting down and taking a deep breath. It was now or never to find out if she was really losing her mind or not. She closes her eyes, and whispers,

“Will... are you here?”

There was a brief pause followed by the ball lighting up and fading. She chuckles in excitement, completely over the moon with fresh tears in her eyes. 

“Okay, good, good, good, good. Are you…” How should she do this? “Um, blink once for yes, twice for no. C-Can y-you do that for me, sweetie? Can you do–” The ball lights up again just once as she feels a tear run down her cheek and hugs the object.

She can feel it in her bones, in her heart now. She knows this is her baby boy. She knows that her son is still with her.

Joyce smiles and sniffles. “Oh, good boy. Good boy. Okay, Will, um–” Another deep breath. “Is… Is Stephanie with you too?” 

One blink. The girl who was kind enough to pick up her son is still with him despite all this time. She can finally put some of that guilt away now.

“That’s wonderful news.” She said, her expression growing bigger. However, this was going to be the hardest question yet to ask. “Baby, I need to know…” She swallows. “Are you guys alive?”

One blink and her heart skips a beat. She thanks any God who’s listening for this.

Her lip quivers as she follows up with, “Are you guys safe?”

Two blinks.

Her son and Stephanie were not okay.

Now, Joyce was shaking like a leaf as she clenched the lights tighter, her mind running a mile a minute on what she can do. What could she say that wouldn’t revert to playing twenty questions four times over?

“I need to know where to find you two, honey. Where... where are you? Can you... can you tell me where you are? Can you…” She chokes, her cheeks completely stained. “Please, baby. I need to find you. Tell me what to do. Please just... Will…”

She didn’t know how long she sat there and cried, wondering what she could do for her baby, for Steph; But at some point a light bulb idea appeared. She suddenly found herself stringing some lights on the wall over her couch, a row of three, before popping open a can of black paint and began brushing letters on.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“How do we get my mom’s attention when we can’t see what she’s done?” Will asked after hours of walking back to his home, he was disappointed to find that his house still looks the same. I guess their theory about earlier was right–

This world was stuck on the day he and Steph got kidnapped by the beast.

The oldest walked around a bit, thinking. Unfortunately, despite all the lights Joyce bought, they can’t see any of them. “Did she put it in your room, maybe?” Stephanie thought, and wandered inside.

Nothing. Of course. The only thing she saw that was possibly different was some scratch marks on the wall, ones that would be too high for a dog to do.

She swallows and leaves, meeting the boy in the hallway. “Did you have scratches on your wall before?” Will gives her a weird look and shakes his head. She hums. “We got to find those lights quickly. I think that monster’s been lurking around here.”

They found themselves back in the living room, and started moving their arms around, squinting too to see if something would appear. All hope was starting to seem lost until her hand hits an object above, a glowing hue appears for a split second.

“Whoa…” Will said, in awe, and suddenly, they both swore they heard a dog barking. “Chester?”

Steph took this as a sign to keep going, hitting the same spot again before gently moving her hand along the imaginary line. She trails to the little cabinet against the wall, feeling around until she hits something that makes light.

Come on, Ms. Byers. Please tell me you’re home. The two of them waited anxiously, waiting for the woman to speak, waiting for–

.

|| Will... are you here? ||

.

Joyce’s voice broke through, breaking them.

“Mom.” Will breaths, coming down to sit on his knees. “What do I–”

“Start feeling around. Just like I did.” Steph said, coming to sit next to him. He nods again, keeping calm and feels around – His fingers touching something that made the hue appear again. “Perfect. Just like that.”

.

|| Okay, good, good, good, good. ||

.

“See?” Steph says, happily. “It’s working.”

“Mom.” Will says again, smiling. Now, they just have to stay silent and listen.

.

|| Are you… Um, blink once for yes, twice for no. C-Can y-you do that for me, sweetie? Can you do– || 

.

Of course they can. So Will reaches out and touches it once.

.

|| Oh, good boy. Good boy. Okay, Will, um– Is… Is Stephanie with you too? ||

.

One touch. Will is eternally grateful that he’s not alone in this scary place. 

.

|| That’s wonderful news – Baby, I need to know… ||

.

There’s a pause, and they hold their breaths.

.

|| Are you guys alive? ||

.

Their hearts clenched at how painful she sounded. 

His poor mother. I can only imagine what she must feel like. Steph thought, and touched his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort.

He touches the air with a shaky hand, trying not to beat himself up over how much his mother was suffering.

.

|| Are you guys safe? ||

.

They frown, and he touches the air twice.

I’m sorry, Mom. Will says, trying not to picture the state she was in after that answer.

.

|| I need to know where to find you two, honey. Where... where are you? Can you... can you tell me where you are? Can you… Please, baby. I need to find you. Tell me what to do. Please just... Will… ||

.

“Mom?” He croaked, after she went silent. “Mom?”

“Ms. Byers?” She said, worriedly.

“Mom, please… where did you–”

Then they heard the couch scrap across the floor, hitting the wall, followed by the sounds of hammering. 

“What is she doing now?” He asks, both of them standing and hearing the string lights she must have in her hands clink together, and move along the wall. “Why is she hanging up more lights?”

Although he was puzzled, Stephanie was not. She walks over to the couch, getting onto the cushions and feeling around, the hues returning when she hits a certain spot. She laughs blissfully.

“Oh, your mom’s a genius.” Steph said, with a huge smile on her face.

Will gives her a look. “I don’t get it.”

“Watch closely. See–” She touches a line of lights near the ceiling. “Eight.” Then the middle. “Nine.” Then the bottom. “Nine. It makes twenty-six. Your mom’s a freaking genius.”

“Still not getting it.”

“Don’t you see? She didn’t just hang up more lights–” Her smile grows, and soon will his. “It’s an alphabet wall.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy wasn’t sure what she was going to do. First Steve doesn’t come into school, and now no one knows where Barb is. She decides to kill two birds with one stone after school, and takes a drive over to the Harrington house. A quick driveby shows that her boyfriend’s car wasn’t there, so she figures he must have just skipped school because of last night’s disagreement. As for her best friend though, she couldn’t have said the same thing.

She slows down and parks directly behind Barb’s car, jogging over and taking a peek inside. Everything was the same, Barb’s purse was on the floor board, and the sweater she changed out of was laid in the seat. 

No. No way. She couldn’t believe this. If Barb didn’t drive home last night then where was she? She tried to come up with excuses, tried to make up ideas that would lead to her coming home without her car but…

Nothing made sense. 

She about cried on the way home, on the verge of a breakdown as she thinks only but the worst of the worst. 

“Hey!” Her mother calls out as she enters the house. “You’re home early! How was the game?” When her mother notices how quiet she was, it is when she meets her daughter halfway. “Nancy? What’s the matter?”

“I-It’s Barb.” Nancy croaks, shaking. “I think... something happened. Something terrible.” She hopes she’s just over exaggerating, but she doesn’t know about that.

She can’t shake off this dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“I don’t know, Chief.” Powell begins, really on the fence about all that they read.

“What don’t you know?” Hopper asked, confused.

“This lady, Terry Ives, sounds like a real nut to me. Her kid was taken for LSD mind control experiments? She’s been discredited. Claim was thrown out–”

Hopper sighs. “Okay, forget about her. Take a look at this.” He slides over a newspaper clipping he printed out. The headline said: ‘MK ULTRA EXPOSED’. He points to a familiar face in the picture. “Dr. Martin Brenner.”

“Who?”

“Brenner. He runs Hawkins Lab.”

“Okay…”

Hopper sits back in his chair with disbelief and scoffs. “You don’t find that interesting?”

“Not really.” Powell said, with a shrug. “He was involved in some hippie crap back in the day, so what?” 

“No, this isn’t hippie crap. This is CIA-sanctioned research.”

“Doesn’t mean he had anything to do with our kids.”

“Come on. Look at that.” Hopper points to the other people in the picture. “Hospital gowns. All of ‘em. Now, that piece of fabric that the teacher found by the pipe. That sure looked like a hospital gown to me, huh? Am I wrong?”

“I don’t know, Chief.”

“Come on, man. Work with me here. I’m not saying that there’s some grand conspiracy–” (You sure about that?) “I’m just…” He sighs, exhausted. “I’m saying maybe something happened. Maybe Will and Stephanie were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they saw something that they shouldn’t have.”

Powell makes a face. “It’s a reach.”

“It’s a start.” 

Before more could be said, Powell’s radio goes off, and Callahan starts speaking.

[ ‘Hey, Powell, is the chief with you?’ ] 

Hopper wastes no time to reach over and take the radio off his partner’s shoulder, answering it, “Hopper here. What do you got?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys follow Eleven through the woods, the sun finally setting, slowly engulfing them in darkness if it wasn’t for the lights on their bikes. To everyone’s shock and confusion, she had brought them to a familiar place.

She turns around and faces them, replying, “Here.”

Mike gives her a look. “Yeah, this is where Will lives.”

“Hiding.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, this is where he lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?”

“What are we doing here?” Lucas asked, dropping his bike in annoyance. 

“She said he’s hiding here.”

“Um…” He looks around. “No!”

Now it was Dustin’s turn to look annoyed. “I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing–”

“That’s exactly what we did. I told you she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”

Mike sighs and looks at her. “Why did you bring us here?”

“Mike, don’t waste your time with her.” Lucas replies, fed up and tired.

“What do you want to do then?”

“Call the cops, like we should have done yesterday.”

“We are not calling the cops!” 

“Hey, guys?” Dustin says, something catching his attention. 

“What other choice do we have?” Lucas yells again. 

“Guys!” He snaps, drawing their attention to the police cars rushing by, followed by an ambulance. Their sirens were blaring loudly, and were heading in a direction they all knew where it led to.

A dreadful feeling came to all of them instantly. 

“Oh no…” Mike whispers.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie wrote on the wall with a marker the best she could, drawing the alphabet in each row. They couldn’t see the lights or the letters Joyce probably scribbled on too, but they could make do with what they had.

“This should probably help, right?” 

“Definitely.” Will agrees with a nod.

“Good.” She smacks her hands together. “Alright, come on Mrs. Byers, talk to us. Ask us some questions.”

“Come on, Mom.”

They waited and waited, until they finally heard her speak.

.

|| Okay. Okay, baby, talk to me. Talk to me. Where are you guys? ||

.

“What should we say?” Will asked, as he climbed onto the couch.

“Uh…” What could they say? “Here! Right Here. Tell her that.”

“Okay.”

Will Reached up and started touching right above each letter, listening – His mother repeating back whatever he touched.

.

|| ‘R’. Good, good, good, good. That’s good. Come on, come on. ‘I..  G... H... T... H... E... R... E…’.‘Right here’. ||

.

Stephanie frowns, worriedly. Yeah, I know it doesn’t make any sense but it’s true.

“Come on, Mom. Understand. Please.” Will begged, quietly.

.

|| ‘Right here’? I… I-I don’t know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What should I do? How do I get to you guys? How do I find you? What should I do? ||

.

“Um…” Will looks over at the teenager. “What should we tell her?”

Steph’s mouth opens and closes quickly. What do they tell her if they’re not even sure what this place is? “Fuck… um…” She scratches her head. “How about–”

. “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.” .

The vicious voice seemed to spread itself around the house like a disease making the hair on their necks stand, and a chill ran up their spines. And then all the supposed “dead” electricity started going off, turning the whole house into a light show; Radios and TVs started going frantic; Fans turning on and spinning around too.

Will starts looking around all disoriented. “Steph, what’s going on?” 

“I–” She gasps as she hears the infamous growl in the distance, then the sound of the beast trying to bust through the wall behind her. “Will!!”

The boy frantically writes something out of his mother, just as the monster’s claw broke through the house. Steph takes a quick shot to stun it enough for them to run out the back door – From there, they were off running into the forest.

Again. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce set the brush down, her alphabet wall was done and ready to use. She takes a few steps back so she can see the whole thing, and rubs her hands impatiently.

“Okay.” She breathes, mentally preparing herself. “Okay, baby, talk to me. Talk to me. Where are you guys?” It takes only a second for a letter to appear. “‘R’. Good, good, good, good. That’s good. Come on, come on. ‘I..  G... H... T... H... E... R... E…’.‘Right here’.”

What? 

That doesn’t make sense. What do they mean they’re right here?

“‘Right here’?” She says again, puzzled. “I… I-I don’t know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What should I do? How do I get to you guys? How do I find you? What should I do?”

She sees the light flicker again, and waits to see what they spell. Slight spoiler…

It was not what she expected them to say.

They were letters that were going to take her breath away.

R

U 

N 

And then all the lights in the house turned on and flickers rapidly, a sound of growling coming from behind. Scarcely, she turns to find something trying to crawl out of her wall. Terrified to even scream or speak, she starts to back away towards the door as a beast breaks through the wallpaper and hisses. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys biked faster and faster, trying to catch up to the emergency vehicles, fearing the worst was yet to come. Just like they suspected, they ended up right at Sattler Quarry.

Meanwhile, Hopper was shaking, praying that what Callahan told him was not true. He arrives at the scene to find paramedics going deep into the water, two stretchers trailing behind. He doesn’t even know if he parked the car or not as he rushes out; A terrible, terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He runs and blends into the crowd of firemen, waiting (im)patiently for their findings. 

“Oh, Jesus.” He mutters, trying so hard to keep his composure. “Oh, God. Please tell me it’s not the kids.”

The boys and El hid behind a truck, hearts in their throats as they watched as a waterlogged body of a boy was being loaded on the stretcher – soon followed by a larger female.

As soon as he saw the clothes, as soon as he saw the color of their hair, Hopper knew he was too late. Not wanting to break down right there and scream, he turns away and heads to his car. How in the world was he going to be able to tell Joyce and Claudia about this? How was he going to tell them that he failed to save their children after they begged him to? What could he have done differently to change this atrocious outcome?

The boys were shaking their heads from afar, not wanting to believe what they’re seeing. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. It has to be! They can’t really be–

“It can’t be them.” Mike choked, shaking his head. “It can’t be.”

“It’s Will and Steph.” Lucas says, lips quivering. Both boys were a mess, almost coming undone, but Dustin…

Oh, Dustin.

He felt like he was about to faint.

“Phanie…?” He whispers, taking a step back while holding his head. No. No. No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No– No! This can’t be real! This can’t be! She can’t be–

“It’s really them.” Lucas said, after getting another look once the bodies were brought back to shore. Tears were in his eyes, and they were ones he wasn’t even going to try to hide like he normally would.

Same thing goes with Mike, who was hugging himself, and sobbed. His best friend was gone. A girl that was like a sister to him was gone. He just couldn’t… wait. “Dustin?” He begins, looking over his friend who seemed so far away from this world.

It was a scary look, enough for even El to get scared and worried. She reached out to him, to comfort him; She even muttered his name for the first time.

To everyone’s surprise, he slaps her hand away.

“‘Dustin’? ‘Dustin’, what?!” He snaps, hatefully. “You were supposed to help us find them alive. You said my sister was alive?! Why did you lie to us?” He points at her, scaring her again. “What’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you?!” 

Eleven stays quiet, not even sure what to say from his outburst.

“Say something! Give me an answer, damn it!” He yells, as Lucas and Mike take a step closer.

“Dustin–” Mike tries, but the boy shakes his head and backs away.

“Screw this! Fuck everything!” Dustin turns around and grabs his bike, his friends ushering him to calm down before taking off. But whatever they say wasn’t going to be enough. The Henderson was practically up the hill when they finished their speech, and wasn’t planning on slowing down no matter what happens.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, not too far down the road, Joyce was running for her life – running whatever that thing was that crawled out of her wall. She was so scared that she didn’t even realize a car was coming towards her. Luckily, it stopped mere inches away, causing her to scream.

“Mom?” Jonathan says as he gets out. “Mom, what happened?” His mother couldn’t speak, only reaching out to grab her son and hold on to dear life. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.” 

But everything is not okay. Far from it. 

Because in the distance, police were coming to inform them of the unfortunate news of their son and brother.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve slips through the sliding door in the back of his house since it was much quieter. He really didn’t feel like facing his parents just yet, and he knows this is around the time at night where they sit around with a glass of wine/beer and watch their shows. He’ll just see and deal with them in the morning, and hopefully they don’t notice any signs that there was a party last night.

He walks lightly across the floors, his mind set to go for the stairs which was going to be a bit tricky since they do tend to creak in some spots. A quick look into the living room he finds his dad on the couch, and his mother standing up but facing the opposite way. 

Perfect. He thought and made his move just as his mother’s voice broke through.

The black, wavy haired and brown eyed woman was pacing around a bit, clearly upset about something – or someone to be exact. 

“The boy was skipping school today, Richard. Can’t you believe that? How is suppose to keep up his grades?” 

Steve had to hold back from groaning as he eye rolled. Here she goes again. He chooses to ignore it, and is about to when he hears the next thing.

“If it wasn’t for his girlfriend calling we would have never known.”

He froze as soon as his foot touched one of the steps. Nancy called? 

His girlfriend actually called the house? She was actually calling because she was wondering where he was at? Even after their fight? He could smile because it warms his heart that she cares, but he was also devastated that his mother was the one to pick up the phone. He hasn’t even told–

“On the bright side, he’s dating a Wheeler. A Wheeler! You know what her father does for a living, right?” She chuckles with excitement. “It’s perfect. I can almost cry.”

And here comes another eyeroll. See this is why he didn’t bother mentioning this girlfriend this time around to his mother. He knew once she found out who her family was it was going to be a game changer. 

Jesus, Christ. He can’t wait to see what’s in store for him in the morning.

“Well, it beats the other choices he’s had in the past.” His father said, pouring salt into old wounds and making him shake his head.

These freaking people, man. I swear. Steve starts to go up the stairs when he hears another voice; This time it was on the TV.

. < In Other words– breaking news. The bodies of some local children, William Byers and Stephanie Henderson have been found. > .

He froze again, this time more rigid and cold.

No.

No, he didn’t just hear that right.

No, his mind’s just playing tricks on him because of last night…

Right?

. < The children have been missing since the 6th, and local authorities and it’s volunteers worked many hours to bring them home, only for it to end in a tragedy. >  .

“About fucking time.” Charles said, raising his beer with joy. “Damn weirdo. I guess our worries about her hanging out with our son again are put to rest.”

Jessica sighs with relief. “Thank God for that. I was tired of seeing her face everywhere.”

“Amen to that.”

He listened to his parents laugh, and clink their drinks together as the world started to spin around him.

No.

No.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t–

He’s not sure how much noise he made, or if he made any, but Steve was out the door again in a split second – running straight for his car where he’ll speed off to the unknown parts of Hawkins.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin stumbles inside his house, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Maybe it was necessary ‘cause it got his mother’s attention. She came from the other room, asking what’s going on as he stares at her with a red face and puffy eyes, cheeks stained with tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“Dustin? What’s wrong?” 

He felt like something was wrapped around his vocal cords, and there was a knife sticking into his chest, and there was something hot poking at his lungs. He has to speak. He has to tell her. It’s better if she knows from his lips rather than a man in blue. 

“Dustin?” She tries again, getting closer.”

“M-Mom…” He begins, his whole body starting to tremble. “St-Stephanie… sh-she’s… she’s…” Oh, god. Why can’t he freaking say it?

“She’s what?” Claudia asked, worriedness creeping up onto her features.

“Sh-She’s… she’s gone.” He whispers into a sob. “Th-They found them both in… I-In the quarry.” Another sob. “Th-They’re b-both gone. M-Mom. St-Stephanie’s gone…”

And then his mother started to shake her head and said ‘No’, followed by Dustin’s reassurance. This went back and forth for who knows how long, but it ended with Claudia being in the same state as her son – a hobbling mess.

“I-It’s true…” He gasps. “I-I saw it my-myself. They’re r-really b-both gone.” And then he broke down again, this time in her arms. She holds him tight, trying to be the strong one here. 

“Shh, baby, we’ll get through this.” She soothes, rubbing the curls on the back of his neck. Her son grips onto her clothes, burying his head into her chest and lets out never ending gasps for air.

“Mommy…” He choked, as his ears picked up on the sirens in front of his house.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve’s surprised the gas pedal hasn’t gone through the floorboard yet with how much force he’s applying. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, doesn’t even know if he’s hit something, or runs a red light, but he does know that he’s not anywhere near the speed limit. 

The news story was still playing around in his head and it was certainly not helping the situation. 

. < From the looks of it, the poor children had plummeted into the quarry and ended up drowning with possible hypothermia. But the mystery still remains on why these two disappeared in the first place. Hopefully, the police can find the answer to that, and bring some closure to the grieving families. > < Hopefully so, Liz. I can only imagine what they’re going through right now. > < Everyone here at WCPK would like to give our condolences. And we advise everyone watching to give a moment of silence for the children. > .

Steve slams on the breaks, the wheels spinning and making an awful sound as he stops along one of the abandoned roads in the town. He starts breathing heavily, which slowly turns into panting. His heartbeat was in his ears, his throat tight and dry, his brown eyes starting to gloss over.

“Fuck…” He whispers, in disbelief. No matter how many times he thinks this is a dream, thinks that maybe they were wrong and it was two other kids they found, his guts tells him ‘No’ and ‘This is real’. 

“Fuck…” He says again, the pain was slowly turning into anger which eventually led to him banging on every surface in his car. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!”

Stephanie Henderson was dead. The girl he knew since five was dead. The girl he made promises with was dead. The girl who was there for him at his every low was dead. The girl who was the only one to make him really laugh and smile was dead.

The girl he had to give up to protect was dead.

Stephanie Henderson… The girl that was his friend.

No.

Screw that! 

He didn’t want to make that choice but he had to.

The girl that is, and will always be, his friend is dead.

She was just supposed to keep moving on in her life, she was just supposed to keep hating him until she completes her dreams. She was supposed to stay in Hawkins and pretend not to know him until her dream life opens up and whisks her away. 

She was supposed to be alive and safe. 

She wasn’t supposed to be dead at the bottom of a quarry with a boy she offered to protect.

Everything he did to make sure she lived was now pointless.

Now, tears rolled down his face, his hands trembling and his lower lip quivered. Every emotion he kept locked up from their old friendship had returned and it was eating him away, tearing him bit by bit, suffocating him till he turned blue.

He still couldn’t believe it. He wishes he could blink and reality would reveal it was just another dream. 

He knows it won’t be like that. It never will be. So instead…

.

.

.

.

Steve found himself screaming until his throat ran raw.

(TBC)

A/N: Did I emotionally destroy all of you enough? I apologize a bit if so...

~~~

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl @olivewisp

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[romione-trope-fest]

Shell Cottage

Title: Shell Cottage

Author: adenei

Trope: Only One Bed

Summary: What if Shell Cottage wasn’t Bill and Fleur’s home/safehouse during the war…because there was no Voldemort? What if the Weasley kids used it for something else entirely? A something that was bestowed upon each Weasley kid before they entered their seventh year. And what if Ron used that something to his advantage, finally giving him a shot at getting together with Hermione?

WC: 7,738 (in 3 parts. part 1 here)

TW: alcohol use, frivolity, bed sharing.

**********

Part 1

  It’s an unusually warm summer day in Ottery St. Catchpole, and Ron welcomes the sun shining down on his face as he ventures outside. Summer’s always been his favorite season. When he was younger it was because his siblings would all be home from Hogwarts, so he had lots of options for playmates. And when he’d started school, it meant a nice long break from never-ending assignments and exams throughout the year.

  This summer is different, though. It’s officially his last as a student, which means it could be the final time he’ll have minimal responsibilities before he’s expected to pursue a career—and it’s coming to an end far too quickly. In two short weeks, he’ll be entering his seventh and final year of Hogwarts, and then this time next year? Well, who knows exactly what his future holds.

  Ron walks out to the garden, summoned by his brothers for a pick-up game of Quidditch, but no one’s there yet. It’s a rare afternoon when everyone stopped by to visit and hang out, much to Mrs. Weasley’s delight. They rarely spent time together aside from Sunday dinner, so the impromptu visit sent their mum into a tizzy. 

  They made some excuse about wanting to help Ron and Ginny train for tryouts in a few weeks, but Ron thinks they all secretly miss flying. Nevertheless, it still struck him as peculiar when he couldn’t see anyone around. Especially considering Fred and George already had their brooms when Bill asked him to come play. He figured they’d be flying around warming up already.

  Weird.

  Nevertheless, Ron keeps his pace toward the broomshed. Even if it’s all some stupid prank, he figures he can still charm some Quaffles and get a little solo practice in at the very least. It doesn’t matter that he’s held the Gryffindor Keeper position for two years now, he still wants to earn it.

  Not that Harry would give it to anyone else, unless they totally outperformed him. But every season, every match, he’s gained more confidence and honed his skills. It’s not like he plans on going pro or anything, but still, he wants to maintain his position on the team.

  Finally reaching the broomshed, he opens the door to retrieve his Cleansweep, but is met instead with a pair of arms pulling him into the small space.

  “What the—”

  “It’s about time, Ronniekins,” Fred chides.

  George shuts the door behind him and casts some sort of silencing charm on it. “Yeah, can’t say this is where I’d prefer to spend my afternoon waiting for you.”

  “So why are you in here and not outside?” Ron asks, completely bewildered. “I thought we were going to play Quidditch?”

  “We are, but we have to talk to you first.” Impatience lingers in Fred’s tone before Bill clears his throat.

  “It’s a…private matter.”

  “Oh, fucking hell, not the sex talk again,” Ron groans.

  George grins. “We can if you—”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.” Fred shrugs. “I happen to think we did a stellar job with our brotherly duty.”

  George nudges Bill. “Even provided Percy’s diagrams and everything.”

  Bill sniggers. “Did you really? Well, as much as I’d love to continue that conversation, we probably don’t have much time before Ginny comes outside and catches us in here.” Ron folds his arms as he waits for his oldest brother to continue.  “So, you’re about to start your seventh year in a couple weeks—”

  “Really? I had no idea.” Ron can’t help the quip, but he hates when people state the obvious.

  “Easy now, Ronniekins. As much as we love a good tradition, we don’t have to share this with you if you want to be all testy,” Fred warns.

  “Anyway.” Bill regains everyone’s attention. “As Fred so eloquently stated, we have a bit of a tradition that I started and has since been passed down to everyone.”

  “Even Percy,” George interjects.

  “Though I don’t think he threw much of a rager,” Fred shakes his head in disappointment.

  Bill chuckles. “No. I’m pretty sure he used the weekend for himself and Penelope and—”

  “No!” gasps Fred.

  A shit-eating grin plasters George’s face. “Did they—is that when he—no wonder he was such a bloody tosser all year!”

  “Acting even more pretentious than usual,” Fred continues.

  “All because he got—

  “Alright, alright. Percy’ll kill me if he finds out I told you so keep that to yourselves, yeah?”

  “Oh, come on, Bill. You’d crush him in a duel. He’s got nothing on you,” Fred ignores the point.

  Ron doesn’t realize until after the exchange that his eyes have widened at the information, and while he may have been annoyed before, he’s much more interested in what Bill has to say now.

  “So, are you going to tell me or…”

  Instead of answering right away, Bill digs into his pocket before brandishing a key.

  “What’s that to?” Ron presses again, and all three of his brothers grin widely.

  “Shell Cottage.”

  Shell Cottage. Where’s he heard that name before? He has to delve deep into his mind for any sort of recollection, and then it suddenly hits him.

  “Aunt Muriel’s summer home? But how do you—”

  “Dad used to check the place regularly when Muriel wasn’t staying there. But she stopped using it as her summer home years ago—just before my seventh year to be exact—and I’ve been in charge of making sure the place is alright ever since. ”

  “Okay…so, what? Did you borrow the place for a weekend?”

  Bill’s face falls slightly at Ron’s question and the twins stifle a groan. “Wow, Ron, way to ruin it.” George scolds.

  “I wasn’t trying to!” he defends. “It’s just—it was obvious…” 

  Bill doesn’t seem phased, though, as he continues. “Well, yeah. And since then, I’ve passed the key on to Charlie, Percy, and the twins a couple weeks before their seventh year starts at Hogwarts too. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Brilliant!” Ron reaches his hand out to take the key, but then hesitates. His eyes narrow slightly as he peers between his brothers. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” Bill reassures. “You can have the place for the weekend. Just make sure it’s cleaned up before you leave. And I don’t care who you invite as long as you’ve got a good alibi.”

  “Right. Yeah.” Ron takes the key when Bill thrusts it toward him. 

  The wheels begin to turn, formulating a plan in his mind. Obviously, he wants to invite his dorm-mates. They could hang out on the beach and he knows Seamus would be able to hook them up with Firewhiskey. It could be the ultimate guys weekend. Kind of like the ones they used to have when they were younger before Seamus started chasing girls and he and Harry got wrapped up with Quidditch.

  But then he thinks about how Percy supposedly took advantage of the space and—well, if he’s being honest with himself, he’d love to find a way to hang out with Hermione one-on-one. Maybe it would be the kick in the pants he needs to finally take the plunge and ask her out.

  Who says you can’t do both?

  Both…now there’s an idea. But before he can ruminate on it anymore, Fred interrupts his thoughts. 

  “Great, now if we’re all set here, let’s get out of this steambox.” He pushes past Ron to open the door.

  George follows. “I’ll go find Gin so she doesn’t try to hex our bollocks off for leaving her out.”

  Dammit. Ginny.

  She’s going to be so pissed if he leaves her out, but as is the tradition, Ron isn’t sure he should tell her. Besides, is it so wrong to have a weekend for just him and his friends without her? Harry’ll understand too, right?

  Eh, whatever. He’ll figure it out later. For now, he’ll enjoy an afternoon of Quidditch just like the old times, and later, when Harry comes for dinner, he’ll figure out exactly what his weekend with the key to Shell Cottage will hold.

[pandastern]

What’s Your Poison, Captain Levi

Part 1: Desire

Sub!Levi Ackerman x Dom!Reader

Warnings: explicit, mature content

Word count: 2989

Genre: romance

When Levi overhears a fight between Y/N and Erwin about their newest addition to the squad, his curiosity leads him to investigate. Little does he know that this decision will confront him with his deepest and darkest desires he had hoped to keep buried.

The castle fell silent after a long day of work, most of the cadettes were already asleep and those who weren't, better got to it before he found out. Levi sighed deeply and downed his last cup of tea. The fragrant blend had lasted him for almost 2 months, but as so many things in his life even this was coming to an end. 

Levi did not allow himself many luxuries. A clean space and some tea. That had always been enough for him. 

It had been a week since Eren had joined his squad. The boy was so lively, so full of life and determination. How many soldiers had he seen with the same kind of attitude. How many had died before his eyes.

Putting down the cup, he got up and rubbed his eyes. Levi couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there, contemplating so many things, he could barely remember what he had mulled over. Maybe he was just utterly sleep deprived. 

Yes, that had to be it. 

“Off to bed it is then…” He mumbled to himself, blowing out the candle on the table. The moon was shining brightly, the light coming through the windows illuminating his way enough to find his path without needing another light source. 

How eerie this castle could be at night. The creaking of old wood and the howling of the summer breeze almost sounded as if the building itself was breathing.

Halfway up the stairs that led to his quarters he suddenly heard a door slam in the hallways below him. The loud sound made him freeze. “This better not be one of the brats out of bed.” He grumbled and listened into the darkness.

“No Erwin! I dont give a flying fuck. That kid has been here for a week. A Week, Erwin! He's been in my office with burns, a bleeding nose, overexhaustion and oh, yes, snapped tendons! Ah! No! Close that mouth of yours I don't want to hear it! I don't care that he regenerates like some Lizard on drugs! Eren is 14!”

“He is a soldier and doing his duty. As should you. Eren is not a child and he knows the cost of his purpose! This young man has seen more than enough of the gruesome reality of this world to make his own decisions!” 

“Yes, Life is shit. Reality is cruel. Trust me, I fucking know that! It doesn't change the fact that you are sending children to die, asshole. And no excuse of yours makes it right.”

“Y/N, you-”

“No, fucking save it. I don't want to hear another word. I am not a soldier, nor a cadette, so you can shove your Commander bullshit right back up your arse.”

The sound of angrily stomping footsteps followed by a never ending string of curses echoed through the staircase. Levi rose a brow. He had recognized that voice. Y/N was one of the Medical staff they kept here to support the survey corps. Usually that woman worked under Hanji Zoe's Squad unless she had to take care of injured soldiers... Or Eren. 

He couldn't remember having ever heard her use that kind of tone before. He'd seen that woman pop a dislocated limb back into place while sweet-talking the whimpering soldier into a blush like it was nothing. Not much of a soldier herself, he had to admit, but she kept her medical office under strict rules that no one dared to break. Y/N was strict, but she was never harsh. Not like this.

He knew it was probably for the best if he just went to bed. It was none of his business. They weren't friends so he was probably the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Especially since he was also a reason why Eren was here in this castle. Granted, if he and Erwin had not intervened the boy would be dead by now. However that didn't change the fact that whatever argument Y/N had had with Erwin she would most likely have with him as well. And as someone who had seen what that woman was capable off, he'd rather not be on the receiving end of that.

After hesitating for a moment Levi sighed deeply and turned around and followed in the direction of where Y/N had stomped off to. Why, he couldn't say. Maybe it was that slight tremble in her voice when she had hissed at Commander Erwin, that he had never heard before. Maybe he was just...curious.  

It took a little bit of searching before he found her. Y/N was sitting outside in the grass, resting against a tree. When Levi approached her the scent of something sweet and burning wafted around him. 

“What the hell are you smoking?” he asked and wrinkled his nose. “Don't tell me you actually got your hands on tobacco. What merchant did you shake down for that?”

Taking a deep drag from the hand rolled cigarette in her hand she gave him a very calculated look.

“Isn't it past your bedtime Captain Levi?” Her lips curved into a smirk that made her look like a Cheshire cat. “Don't you know? To stay sane in this wretched world everyone needs a little pick me up. Some people like to fuck an excessive amount, some people drink alcohol till their liver burts like an overripe tomato. Others…”

She took another drag from the cigarette, the sweet musky smell getting stronger. “Others just know where the good stuff grows.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. Levi didn't reply to that. He could sense the frustration in her demeanor. “It's not like you to numb yourself with substances to escape whatever upsets you.”

Another dry laugh.

“I am not. This is St. John's wort and lavender. Helps me sleep. And considering you're up at  this ungodly hour I am guessing you could use one as well.”

Levi watched as Y/N softly patted the grass next to her, motioning for him to sit down. With a sigh he let himself fall into the grass. Silence spread between them and Levi just watched her carefully. 

“I heard your fight with Erwin.” He finally said.

Y/N clicked her tongue and shot him a glance through narrowed eyes.

“Oh? So you're here to...what? Scold me?”

“No. Not like a brat like you would listen to me.”

“It doesn't matter what I think anyway, does it?”

Levi sighed and stretched out his legs, leaning back against the tree. “You know that what we do here is necessary. You also know that Eren is not a child. No matter his age. It may not be pretty and it may not be what you want for him, but you can't forget that Eren killed twenty Titans by himself in his Titan form.”

Grinding her teeth Y/N pressed the cigarette bud into the ground and cursed again.

“Fuck you. Don't you think I know that?! I am fully aware that this kid can turn into a building sized naked killer man. Trust me, Hanji told me all about it in one of their ‘I am horny for Titans’ rants. It doesnt change the fact that he is a child. Just because he's seen some shit doesn't make him any less of a 14 year old kid. If you're sending soldiers to die, then at least make sure they are fully grown first.”

Her voice had gotten louder with every word she spat out before she cut herself off. Levi watched her take a deep breath and pull out a second hand rolled cigarette.

“We have no choice. Not when the survival of the human race is on the line.” he stated with a stern voice. It wasn't that he didn't understand where she was coming from but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

“Spoken like a good little soldier. I know that of course. Doesn't mean I have to like that shit.” Y/N scoffed. “How far you've come from just a little underground street rat.”

Levi stiffened. It had been so many years since someone had brought up his origins. He wasn't ashamed of who he had been, but being confronted with it so suddenly still made him tense up.

“What, surprised? Of course I know. Where do you think I come from. You're not the only underground rat dwelling on the surface. Like you, Erwin was the one who pulled me up.”

Now she sounded almost bitter. 

“Now that you mention it, it explains a lot about you.”

Like that time when he had watched her knock a hysteric solder out cold with one brief move so she could treat them.

“I suppose it does.” Y/N pulled out a lighter and ignited her second cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I've always been good with herbalism. Drugs...Poison...Back then I used that knowledge to cater to Clients with a very particular taste of pick me ups.”

Another side shot glance and the smirk returned on her lips. “But enough about me. What is your preferred poison, Captain?”

The swift change of subjects did not go unnoticed to him. Not that he minded. He personally didn't much like to talk about the past. That, however, caught him off guard.

“What do you mean?” He asked carefully.

Y/N sat up, put out her cigarette and leaned closer, her eyes having a glint in them he had never seen before. “Like I said before. Everyone has that little something that keeps them sane. So what is it for you? And please don't say tea. That doesn't count.”

“Why wouldn't it count? Who gets to decide what keeps me sane if not me?” he huffed. Levi didn't like where this conversation was headed. As Y/N leaned a little closer, he instinctively leaned back but the tree trapped him in place. 

“Because I am talking about something more...decadent.” Her husky chuckle made him shiver, her face now so close to his, he could feel her breath on his skin. She smelled sweet, just like the herbs she had smoked earlier. To his surprise it wasn't unpleasant.

“So...tell me. What is it the Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldiers desire? What is it that makes your fingers itch? You always seem so stoic but I know there's more. I can see it in your eyes”

Levi finally recognized the glint in her eyes. It was the same look a cat had that was playing with a mouse, ready to pounce. And he didn't quite know how to feel about that.

“I have no idea what you're going on about.”

“No?” Another soft chuckle that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. She was so close now, he could make out the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks. Before he could stop himself he evaded her eyes to focus himself.

Soft fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Y/N-”

“Do you think i haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow me the moment I step into a room?” She whispered.

Levi could feel his face grow hot. Had he really been so obvious? 

“I- wait, Y/N its not- “

Before he could answer, Y/N moved even closer, climbing into his lap. Levi stiffened, his eyes wide as her warm hands cupped his face. 

“It's okay, I don't mind. Not like I haven't done the same thing…”

Her body was pressed so flush against his, her body heat almost scalding him. Levi's breath caught in his throat. Their faces were so close, noses touching, breath mingling together and somehow the entire world started to fade away, leaving just the two of them together. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure the sound must echo through the entire castle, but he just couldn't push her away. He knew he should. He knew he couldn’t allow this. Knew this wouldn't end well for him.

But the look in her eyes told Levi, Y/N already had him in a trap he couldn't  escape. Not that he wanted to.

“Such pretty eyes you have, Levi.” She whispered in a low voice. “I’ve always wondered what's going on behind them.”

Keeping one hand on his cheek, Y/N gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face making him shiver. No one had ever touched him that way before. “W-what do you mean?” He managed to whisper hoarsely.

“What you crave of course. Everyone has something. Fantasies of pleasure and lust that keep playing in your head when you are all by yourself and need some release.” Y/N laughed softly, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Gods he was blushing like a boy but that look in her eyes kept him enthralled, unable to move a single muscle.

“I have two theories. Lets see which one hits the spot.” She purred. “My first theory is that you crave control. You are the captain after all. So what is it you think of when you watch me?”

Another shiver ran down Levi's spine, Y/n's feather light touches ghosting over his skin igniting his nerve endings in exhilarating sparks. Why was it so hard to breathe? 

“Do you think of me, naked? Tied up with ropes, suspended limbs hanging in the air like a doll...completely and utterly at your mercy as your wandering hands coax soft moans out of me? Do you dream about teasing me till I fully submit to your authority?”

Heat started pooling in his stomach and instinctively Levis' hands moved to her hips gripping them tightly. Y/N leaned in, softly brushing her lips against the corners of his mouth. Levi froze, his fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. “W-what?”

She was searching his eyes intently and it felt like she was stripping away every little layer of protection he had built over his lifetime. Dangerous. She was dangerous. He'd always known that. Hed known the moment their eyes had met for the very first time.

“No...no that's not it…is it?” A lascivious smirk spreading over those sinful lips of hers. “So I was right. See, my second theory is the one I find most plausible. It's human psychology after all…”

Her hands started to travel down his jaw before resting gently around his throat. Levi swallowed hard. He could feel himself tremble softly and that predatory glint in her eyes told him, she felt it too.

“You don't wish for control Levi, do you? You crave release. So much responsibility on your shoulders. Always having to be reliable. Humanity's Strongest. A leader in his own right. But what you really want is to let go. To give yourself into reliable hands that roam your body just the right way”

Levi could feel her lips on his ear, nipping at the soft skin. The gasp escaping his parted lips was almost treacherous and wrong. But dammit she was right. And he hated that she was.

“I am right, aren't I? I can feel you getting excited…”

As if to prove a point Y/N rolled her hips against him, coaxing a soft moan out of his parted lips. Levi's head fell forward against her shoulder, the scent of her herbs wrapping around him, more intoxicating than any booze he'd ever tasted.

“Please-” He rasped almost helplessly.

“Please? My, my, Levi...such beautiful sounds you make.”

More featherlight nips and kisses trailing down his jaw and neck, making him dizzy. She was toying with him.

“Your arms tied behind your back, maybe even on your knees. Helpless and taken care of at the same time. That's what you crave isn't it? That's the deep dark sinful little desire that's burning in your heart. Submission.”

Nimble fingers threading into his hair, gripping it tight before yanking his head back. 

“F-fuck!” The moment the groan left him Levi already knew he was done for. She was gonna swallow him whole.

“Say it Levi...is that what you want?” Y/N purred, her forehead touching his. It was an order. She was giving him an order.

Levi shuddered under her gaze, his throat so dry he barely resisted the urge to lick his lips. “Y-yes…”

“There we go...that wasn't so hard was it? Don't worry...I'd be more than happy to do that for you darling. I will keep you safe… take you apart piece by piece until you lose yourself in pleasure. Until you fall… and then I will put you back together.”

Her lips were hovering over his, a tease, an invitation. Why couldn't she just kiss him already?

“What...are you saying?” Levi whispered barely audible, his chest heaving with every breath. His lungs and all his senses already filled with her scent, her body pressed again so flush he could feel every curve through her clothing.

“I am making you an offer, Captain. And I want you to think about it before you answer. If that is what you want...come find me in my office. I'll help you fly in the best and worst way  possible...understood?”

Not knowing what to say or do, Levi just nodded. There was no way another word could make it past his lips. He wanted her. He wanted her so damn bad, the desire was burning him up alive.

Her soft chuckle echoed through the night.

“Good. I bid you goodnight then. Come find me when you're ready.”

Before Levi could process what she had just said, Y/N got off him and jumped to her feet as if nothing had ever happened. His body shivered at the sudden lack of heat, already feeling empty without her so close to him. 

Stunned, Levi watched her wink at him before disappearing into the night. What the hell had just happened?

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: "Stop"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~6200

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Miscommunication, Dissociation, Relationship Problems, Captivity, Kidnapping, Hand Feeding, Master/Pet, Canon-Typical Violence, Hair-Pulling, Defiance, Begging, Asphyxiation, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Crying, Scars, Anal Fingering, Non-Consensual Spanking, Anal Sex, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Hospital Stay

A/N: I think I got everything in the tags. If ANYONE sees anything that I missed that I should add a tag for, PLEASE let me know so I can add it on.

Read After "Warmth"

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Iruka mops the floors of his apartment, looking desperately for the calm that cleaning usually gives him. He’s already washed all of the windows and reorganized the pantry. If mopping doesn’t work, he’ll have to try deep-cleaning the bathroom again, which he knows won’t work, actually, because he did that last night.

Last night was nice. Last night, he and Kakashi made out for well over an hour in training ground twenty-three, and he even had his back against a tree for much of it. And then…

And then Iruka went and ruined it by asking Kakashi to stop.

It worked! Kakashi is always so careful and perfect, and so stopped exactly when the word slipped out of Iruka’s mouth. But he hadn’t… he hadn’t been happy about it. Especially because Iruka couldn’t tell him what was wrong.

Because nothing’s wrong.

That’s why—

“Hello, Love.” The front door opens and closes, the crinkle of paper bags shifting alerting Iruka to fresh groceries and a potential truce meal. Iruka, in the hallway with the mop still in hand, feels queasy. He’s not ready for this conversation.

He might not ever be.

“I was thinking—oh, Love,” Kakashi cuts himself off, startled. “The apartment is… very clean. Is everything—?”

“I’m going to discuss it with Rikona-sensei in our next session,” Iruka says, finishing the mopping and dropping the dirty mop and bucket just inside the bathroom to take care of later. He comes back out and crosses the living room to Kakashi, still hovering just inside the genkan. “I want to get her opinion first, and then I’ll discuss it with you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

Iruka shrugs. He changes the subject, “What’s for dinner?”

~

Afterwards, they lay side-by-side on the kotatsu and touch and make out like teenagers. Iruka’s enjoying it, he really is. He loves kissing Kakashi, loves touching him, and loves feeling him get worked up. He loves how Kakashi gets chattier the more turned on he gets.

He appreciates how Kakashi asks for every touch, every time he wants to get closer. He keeps their hips apart until Iruka’s ready for it, and is careful and gentle when he does eventually press a thigh between Iruka’s legs. And it’s wonderful feeling the bare skin of Kakashi’s chest against his own, the thrill of being turned on for the first time in so long.

But.

“S-st—oh, Kakashi—I. Oh, please, please. St-stop, stop, stop—”

Kakashi pulls away quickly and sits back. Iruka lays still, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling. He takes a moment, and then closes his eyes in relief.

He did—

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Iruka’s eyes snap back open and he looks up at Kakashi. He’s kneeling back, still between Iruka’s legs but not touching him anymore. His hands are clenched in tight fists on his thighs, and his mouth is a hard line. There’s a love bite on his collarbone, the skin red and irritated—Iruka put that there, just a little while ago.

“What—no, I—”

“Then why do you keep telling me to stop?” Kakashi holds up a hand to keep him from answering.

Oh, he knew this was going to bite him.

“Kakashi, please,” he tries anyway.

Kakashi is already standing up and looking for his clothes. “I don’t like being tugged around. If you don’t want this, just tell me, don’t—fuck, I told you I can’t hurt you like this, but apparently I’ve been getting close every time we’ve been making out for the last week!”

“It’s not like that,” Iruka says, reaching for his own shirt.

“Then what is it?” Kakashi pauses in the middle of pulling up his trousers. He’s clearly trying so hard not to glare, not to growl.

It doesn’t change the frustration in his tone. It doesn’t change that Iruka’s still too fucked up to tell the difference between frustration and anger. He’s too at risk for an episode.

He’s—

“When you get your shit together,” Kakashi, once he’s finished dressing, pulls on his mask. It feels strangely final. He moves to the genkan and slips into his sandals. “Come find me, and we’ll talk.”

Then he leaves.

Iruka lays back on the couch and presses his heels into his eyes. He tries to keep his breathing even, and fails. He tries to calm his pulse—and fails that, too.

The timbre of Kakashi’s frustration/anger/sex voice echoes in his head. Iruka loses feeling in his fingers, first, then his feet and legs; and then the ache settles in his chest and he knows for sure that he lost.

Nononono—

He slips.

~

Iruka tries to find Kakashi the next day, but he’s already gone on a mission. It’s telling enough that he left without saying goodbye to Iruka; that had been a recurring thing between them since before they started dating. Iruka holds himself together until the end of the school day, and then walks to his shift at the Mission Desk.

There’s a C-rank scroll delivery on the books waiting for either a genin team or a solo chūnin to sign for it. The clocking is estimated at a day and a half.

Iruka likely has the weekend to himself. He shrugs, signs for the mission, and tucks the details into his vest to peruse later. Sitting down at the Desk, he starts his shift, calling the next shinobi forward.

Some time away may do him good.

~

Iruka wakes up groggy and limp, and struggles to remember what happened. He attempts to activate his chakra-location technique, but nothing happens. Then, as he tries to lift his head, he feels the paper tag pressed against his neck. He stops moving immediately, not sure if it’s a paper bomb or something else without looking at it.

“You’re awake,” someone says. “That’s good. I was hoping I didn’t hit you too hard.”

Iruka clenches and unclenches his hands. They’re tied up above his head to the pole against his back. He almost lost feeling in them. How long has he been out?

Footsteps—leather on stone—echo around him. Iruka blinks, his eyelids heavy. “I may have to get rid of some identifying marks if I end up keeping you,” the other person, a man, says. A hand grabs his chin and lifts his head for him (very likely not a paper bomb; he’s not being careful enough) and turns him left and right. “Though, I must say, your scar is particularly fetching. It’s what caught my eye in the first place, see.” He drops Iruka’s chin. He doesn’t have enough strength back yet to keep his neck upright. The man fingers his scar from cheek to cheek. “Beautiful.”

“I…” Iruka gasps, swallows hard. “I won’t talk.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” the man chuckles. “I know you’re shinobi, but I’m not here for secrets. I know that’s futile.”

“Then… what do you… why am I—?”

“You’re here because I need a new companion,” the man says. “My last one, hmm, expired, see. And I saw you walking into town just yesterday evening and, well. I had to have you.”

He places a hand on Iruka’s cheek and lifts his face again.

“Oh, you are even more beautiful when you’ve got terror in your eyes,” he grins. “That’s good.”

Iruka growls, shakes his head away, “Stop touching me.”

“You’ll be hungry in a little while,” the man says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, pretty one, I don’t let my pets starve; unless they’re bad, of course.”

~

Kakashi flickers across the rooftops of Konoha, much more relaxed now that he’s had a few days to cool off. He’s glad he left when he did; he didn’t want to be angry around Iruka, but the pent-up frustration had been getting to him. He still needs to apologize for snapping, and he hopes that Iruka’s ready to talk about whatever’s been bothering him the last week or so.

He stops outside the apartment door and knocks. Iruka had keyed him into the wards last week, but after their fight—he’s hesitant to call it such, but, it really was, wasn’t it?—he wants to give Iruka the chance to open the door and let him in. Or they can go to Ichiraku’s; neutral ground. Or to Kakashi’s place.

He’s not picky. He just needs to…

To…

Hmm.

He knocks again. Waits.

It’s Sunday evening. There are no classes at the Academy, and the Mission Desk is closed by now for mission assignments, too. Iruka should be home.

He flashes around the side of the building, to the kitchen window. There’s no sound, no movement. The next window is the bathroom window, and he glances in—empty. The bedroom window is around another corner, and he checks in there, too. The bed is made and the room is spotless. More importantly, Iruka-less.

Kakashi flickers back to the Tower and lands outside of the Hokage’s open window.

“Iruka’s missing,” he says without preamble.

Tsunade pauses and turns in her chair, narrows her eyes. “Umino’s on a mission,” she says.

“A mission?”

“But,” she holds up a finger, and looks to Shizune, standing beside her, “I do believe the time estimate on that mission stated that he should have returned today.”

“I’ll retrieve his mission details, Tsunade-sama.” Shizune hurries out of the room.

“Come in and wait, brat.”

“I’ll stay here. The breeze is nice”

“He may just have been delayed.”

“But why did he leave anyway?” Kakashi hums, shifts to a more comfortable crouch. “Did you need him for seal-work?”

“No,” Tsunade says. She stops pretending like she’s going to try and get back to work. “I actually sent for him yesterday before realizing that he was out of the village. I had a few scrolls brought up from the archives that need unsealing, and I honestly don’t trust anyone else with them besides Umino or Jiraiya.”

“High praise,” Kakashi smiles behind his mask. Iruka deserves it.

“Kid should be tokujō, but wants to stay at the Academy,” Tsunade sighs.

Shizune comes back, scroll in hand and a thoughtful frown in her brow. “The mission parameters, Tsunade-sama,” she says, handing the scroll to the Hokage. “He should have returned early this afternoon. That it’s past sundown and he’s still not back is… concerning.”

“Umino is a capable shinobi,” Tsunade says. “Standard procedure is three days late before a scouting party is arranged to find out what happened.” She turns to Kakashi, “Can you wait until Wednesday before you lose all sanity?”

“Haven’t got much left to lose, Hokage-sama,” Kakashi says. “I’ll wait, but I demand to be in the scouting party.”

~

Iruka chews the rice the man feeds him. He won’t untie him, and so instead he brings small bites of food to Iruka’s lips every so often. Iruka takes the food and tries to think of how he’s going to get out of here, but with his chakra repressed somehow—Iruka suspects the tag—and his wrists tied as they are, it’s difficult to come up with a way to pull away from the pole at his back.

“What, um,” Iruka clears his throat between bites, “what can I call you?”

The man smiles; it sends a shiver down his spine and makes his throat close up because he knows that smile. Mizuki used to give him that same smile. Before.

“‘Master’ works,” he says. He offers a canteen of water. Iruka drinks slowly, but some liquid still slips out of the side of his mouth.

Iruka swallows; frowns. “I’m. I’m not calling you that.”

“We’ll see, pet.” He packs up the rest of the food and leaves the canteen on the ground, half a meter from Iruka’s knees. “If you’re good tonight, tomorrow I’ll move you to the futon. The canteen stays upright all night. You’ll get to drink more in the morning.”

“You—what?”

“If you’re going to keep talking,” he sighs, “I’ll have to gag you. And I really don’t want to have to gag you, pretty one. I don’t like gagging my pets, see. But I’m going to bed, and so I need you to be silent.”

Iruka ducks his head, snarling, but holding back heated words. He can’t be gagged. He can’t show this man the weakness he has, or he at least needs to hold out as long as possible.

~

Iruka wakes up to his stomach grumbling. The rice and water hadn’t been enough, but he’s been hungry before and he can take the discomfort. The man is already puttering around by a small fire, cooking his own breakfast it seems, and gives Iruka that same slimy smile when he notices that he’s awake.

“You left the canteen alone,” he says. “That’s very good. I had a feeling a pet shinobi would be able to follow instructions well.”

“I’m nobody’s pet,” Iruka seethes without thinking.

The man’s eyes darken. “Well, now that just won’t do,” he says. He stands up and takes the pan off the fire, douses it, and stalks over to Iruka. “See, boy, you are my pet. And every good pet’s gotta learn some manners, I suppose. So here’s your first lesson, see: I’m your Master, and you will address me as such.”

Iruka spits at the man. He gets him on his trouser leg.

“Alright, pretty one, but you asked for this.”

He reaches out and takes a handful of Iruka’s hair, holding the back of his head flush to the pole. The pain in his scalp drags him down, down, oh gods no, please not now stopstopstop!! Then the man’s boot connects with his stomach and the breath is literally kicked out of him.

Again.

And again.

Iruka holds back tears and grapples with his own mind to stay present because he doesn’t want to hurt anymore but he also doesn’t want to slip, please, he doesn’t want to go right now—

“Please,” he gasps.

“You can be good, pretty one,” the man coos. “You know how to make this stop, don’t you now?”

He pulls harder on Iruka’s hair and kicks him again.

The ache in his chest is settling. He can’t—He can’t.

Iruka sobs. “Please, please stop.”

“I don’t hear the magic word,” he sings, and pulls back for another kick.

Iruka cries, “Please, Master, I-I’ll be good!” Tears slip down his face and his stomach throbs—but the ache flutters away and he’s able to breathe.

The man releases his hair, and then cups his cheek.

“There, see. That wasn’t so bad.”

~

The man eventually moves him away from the pole—he’s not sure yet if this is a good thing, because while, yes, he can now at least feel his hands, tied now behind his back, he’s also closer to the futon. And the implications of that…

He was due back in Konoha yesterday—and that’s assuming he was unconscious for less than a day. They won’t send a search party for another two days. He needs to stay strong.

Gods, he hopes Kakashi’s mission is going well. He didn’t even check the rank before he left! What kind of partner is he…

“Pet?”

Iruka looks up begrudgingly.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. How’s your belly?”

“Fine,” he says.

“Fine…?”

“Fine, Master,” Iruka grits.

“Good. I think I’ll feed you again tonight.”

Iruka says nothing.

“Or, you can starve.”

“I prefer to feed myself,” Iruka says cooly.

The man’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I do so enjoy feeding my pets,” he says. “You eat by my hand, or you don’t eat at all.”

Iruka nods. “I understand.”

His lip curls. He crouches down and puts his hand around Iruka’s neck, crinkling the paper seal and squeezing just enough to threaten. “Listen here, pet—”

“You don’t scare me,” Iruka snaps. “I’m a Konoha shinobi. Your torture methods won’t break m—nng—”

“I’m not trying to torture you, pretty one,” the man says, tightening his grip around Iruka’s neck so he chokes. “I simply want the respect I’m owed. Give that to me and I won’t have to hurt you.”

“Fuck… you…”

The man purses his lips and mutters, “Now there’s an idea,” and then lets Iruka go.

He coughs, sputters, heaves deep gulps of air. He barely hears the clink of the man undoing his buckle, or the unmistakable sound of a zipper, but he gasps when his hair is pulled again and—

No, gods please

“Will you be good and keep your teeth to yourself?”

“Please, please, st-stop no I don’t—”

“Oh, you’ve had this done before?” He clicks his tongue and leaves his dick alone to stroke Iruka’s face. “My sweet, pretty pet. No one else is ever going to touch you like this again, see? Now. Open up for me.”

Iruka shakes his head. “I don’t. No. Stop.”

“You said it yourself. You don’t have to be scared of me, pet.” He presses his thumb into Iruka’s mouth and pulls down on his jaw, and then runs the pad along his molars. “Stay,” he says, and then puts his hand hack on his dick.

Iruka whimpers, but leaves his mouth open. He doesn’t want to think of what could happen if he closes his mouth now. His breath comes in stutters, through his nose.

This man smells nothing like Kakashi, thank the gods.

He jerks himself off quickly and efficiently, and is soon ejaculating across Iruka’s face and into the back of his mouth. It’s sour and thin and Iruka coughs—the man immediately grabs his mouth and pinches his nose closed. Iruka flails to the side, but the man grapples with him and gets behind him, keeping a hold on his nose and mouth.

“Swallow, pet.”

Iruka would rather pass out. He thrashes in the man’s grapple.

“Swallow, or you’ll run out of air.”

That’s the plan.

“Pet!”

Iruka slumps in the man’s arms.

~

Wednesday morning arrives and Kakashi is—twitchy. He’s already at the Hokage Tower, sitting outside the window to Tsunade’s office, when she arrives at seven o’clock.

“Kakashi, have you slept at all since Sunday?”

“I dozed here and there,” he shrugs

“The scouting party won’t be put together until after lunch,” she says. “Go get some more sleep until then.”

He turns to go back to the roof—he’ll doze for a bit up there waiting for Tsunade—but then a pigeon flies by his ear into the Hokage’s office and lands on her desk. No one uses pigeons anymore for carrying messages, do they?

Shizune picks the little bird up and says, “It has a message, Tsunade-sama.” She picks the message off of the bird’s leg and hands it to the Hokage, who unrolls it and reads silently.

“Brat.”

“Hokage-sama?”

She turns to him, eyes burning and mouth hard. “We’re going to release this pigeon, and you’ll follow it. The scouting party will be along as soon as I can get it together.”

Kakashi nods. Hesitantly, he asks, “Iruka?”

“Follow. The pigeon. If it doesn’t lead you to him, any means necessary. Bring him home, Kakashi.”

“What condition can I expect him in?”

“I’m sending you ahead, alone, because I believe you’ll be the only one he’ll trust to take him out of the situation he’s in,” she hands Kakashi the letter, rolled back up. Then, she nods to Shizune. “Go.”

The pigeon flies away. Kakashi follows.

~

“Quit struggling; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Iruka flails and bucks against the ropes tightening around his wrists and neck. He’s naked, light-headed and dizzy but gods he can’t stop fighting.

“Pet, do I need to take your mouth again?”

“You do whatever makes you feel better,” Iruka growls.

“I’ve never had a pet who responded to pleasure as though it were pain,” the man muses behind him. “Though, it does make you that much more fascinating.”

The rope around his neck tightens as he’s lifted by the strand connecting his neck to his wrists along his spine. His back is brought to rest against the man’s chest, and he starts touching Iruka, all over his chest and bruised belly. He winces as the man pinches his nipple and sniffs his hair.

“Stop,” he mutters weakly.

“Hmm. You know how to ask properly, pretty one.”

He bites back a cry as the man pulls and pinches at his chest. Iruka starts losing feeling in his limbs and his breath stutters. It’s. It’s too much like Mizuki. He has to. Gods he has to stop it. He can’t—he must remain present. Even if it means kowtowing to this…

His breath hitches. He forces out, “Please, Master, stop,” and then hiccups on a loose sob.

“Oh, that’s pretty, see,” the man says. He stops pinching and starts caressing and fuck, that’s not what Iruka meant.

“No, no plea—ohh.”

He pulls Iruka’s hair and Iruka falls back on instinct. Mizuki used to like to pull, and he wanted Iruka to like it.

“Yes, that’s it, pet,” the man croons. “Now, bend forward—that’s it, very good. Oh, look at you. Look at this,” he places his palm over the fūma shuriken scar on Iruka’s back.

Iruka breathes heavily. His bare knees are cushioned by the futon mattress and his temple is against the pillow. It’s… it’s more than Mizuki ever gave him, when he tied him up like this. He closes his eyes against the tears.

Gods, he wants Kakashi.

“Your scars are beautiful, pet.” The sound of a jar lid being turned, metal on glass, is loud in the cavern. “Once you're trained, I’ll be the envy of all who see you. Perhaps I’ll lend you out to those I trust.”

Iruka chokes on another cry. Mizuki used to threaten him like this—

“Oh, pet, that’s sweet. You’d rather stay mine and mine alone, wouldn’t you?”

Iruka flinches at the first touch of a cold, slick finger to his hole.

Kakashi hasn’t yet—they haven’t—gods—

“Stay still, pretty one, or this could hurt.”

He loses the battle against his will of holding in his tears. The man’s finger breaches him. Iruka holds himself perfectly still.

“I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t—stop, stop, please, I don’t want it…”

“Shh, pet. It’ll feel good soon.”

I know. That’s what I’m scared of.

~

Kakashi summons the pack three hours out of Konoha. The pigeon had clearly been a summon as well, because once it had gotten a fair distance from civilization it poofed away in a puff of smoke. Frustrated, Kakashi has the pack fan out to search for Iruka’s scent.

Just as he’s been keyed into Iruka’s impenetrable wards, Iruka’s scent has been memorized by every member of the pack. Kakashi imagines civilians would think those actions wouldn’t have much meaning, but to each other it meant everything.

Fuck he was such an idiot. How could he have left for a mission without saying goodbye? He was upset, and frustrated, but he wasn’t… shit, he needs to get his act together.

A howl comes from the north. Akino. He flickers from tree to tree, making the distance in ten minutes.

Akino frowns at him when he settles beside him. “That was stupid quick, Boss,” he says accusingly.

Kakashi ignores the comment. “You have Iruka’s scent?”

Akino nods and points with his nose. “He’d come from that way, a few days ago. There was a struggle. And then he and this other scent—male, middle-age, water chakra-nature—go off east.”

Kakashi nods. “I’m going to release the rest of the pack, for now. Keep on his trail.”

“You got it.”

~

Iruka comes back to himself with an indicative pain in his ass and a headache pounding behind his eyes. He hadn’t even felt himself start to slip; he’d just gone. Not good.

His clothes haven’t been returned to him. That’s… understandable. Easier access.

The man is asleep next to him. His snores are ugly and loud, it’s a wonder Iruka stayed under for as long as he did.

His stomach growls. It’s been days since the last time—first time—only time—the man fed him. He twists his wrists in the ropes and shifts his hips a little. A thin dribble of come slips out and drips down his thigh.

“Are you with me again, pet?”

Iruka gulps and sniffles. “I’m—”

“I don’t appreciate my pets zoning out during our couplings.” The man drapes a hand on Iruka’s ass and then spanks him hard, the slap pushing Iruka forward into the pillow a few inches.

“I didn’t—”

“I really don’t appreciate my pets lying to me,” the man growls, leaning up on his elbow. He spanks Iruka again, this time drawing a hiss of pain. “I know what I saw, and I know what happened.”

His fingers dance around Iruka’s rim, still stretched and slick from before. Iruka shuts his eyes tight and grits his teeth against the cry in his throat.

“Now. I’m going to have you again. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

“Stop touching me,” Iruka sobs through clenched teeth.

“No, I don’t think I will. Although,” he slides two fingers inside and hooks them, pulls so Iruka has to lift his hips more, spread his knees more, “you know how to properly ask for what you want, see.”

He moves to kneel behind Iruka and pulls his fingers out, and then wipes them off on his back. The man presses his dick inside and Iruka—

Iruka whimpers.

“That’s it, oh, very good, pet. So pretty, taking my cock.”

He’s not going to make it out of this without a new trigger word. Pet. Pretty. Hell, this fucker’s reinforcing his old trigger for Good, and he and Kakashi only just got to the point where they can say it under the right circumstances.

“Such pretty hair,” the man takes a handful and pulls, only barely lifting Iruka’s face off of the pillow. “When I found you, you had it tied up. What a crime. You’ll wear your hair down from now on, pretty one, so I can see it.”

He brushes Iruka’s prostate. He groans, bites his lip. No more. No. He can’t. Stop. Stop.

“Please stop,” he murmurs.

The man sighs and thrusts faster, harder.

Kakashi

Kakashi

“K-shi.”

“What’s that, pet?”

Iruka snaps his eyes open. Fuck.

“Nothing,” he says quickly.

“What is ‘k-shi’?” he asks, stilling his hips.

“No one.”

Fuck.

“Is that so?” He slowly starts thrusting again, picking up the pace bit by bit until his hips are slapping unrelentingly against Iruka’s ass. With one hand he holds onto the rope, taut from Iruka’s neck to his wrists at the small of his back, and with the other he presses his fingers into the flesh of his waist and pulls Iruka back onto his dick with each thrust.

“Who—is—k-shi?” he growls.

Iruka cries, “Stop, stop, please!”

The man spits. It lands on the back of his neck. Iruka shivers.

“Whoever it is, you’ll never see them again.” He stills, reaches around and fondles Iruka, and the grin is audible in his voice as he continues, “You’re mine, pretty one. No one’s coming. No one else cares.”

Iruka can’t pull back from the hand on his cock, it only shoves the man’s dick further inside. He can’t push forward, that would only make him think he’s enjoying the touch. His chest aches. His breath comes in fits and starts.

Kakashi… he’ll come… right?

If he can’t get himself out of here, Tsunade-sama will send a scouting party. Kakashi will volunteer to be on that mission, won’t he?

“You have only me, pet. I’m your Master, and I’ll take care of you, see. You just have to let me.”

He jerks Iruka off in the same rhythm as he thrusts into his ass. He braces himself on Iruka’s shoulder, pressing him into the futon. It hurts. It.

Oh he’s gonna—

“STOP, please!” he sobs one more time.

“No. Come for me, pretty one.”

He does. He sobs and comes and it hurts and it’s like the man’s kicked him again. Iruka hardly registers the flood of come in his ass as the man orgasms, too.

The man pulls out and walks away.

To the feeling of more come dribbling out of his hole, Iruka mutters into the pillow, “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Kakashi, I’m so sorry…”

~

Iruka loses count of how many times the man comes inside him. It’s enough that after a while he stops fingering him first, then later stops bothering with oil. Eventually he’s led to the fireside, and then made to kneel again beside a large stone. The man sits upon the stone, above him, and feeds him bites of rice and small morsels of rabbit.

He keeps his head down between bites. Sometimes the man will leave his fingers on Iruka’s lips after he’s placed food on his tongue, and so after he’s finished chewing and swallowing, he lets the man explore his mouth with his fingertips. “Very good, pet,” he praises. Then he’ll give Iruka a sip of water.

It’s been days, hasn’t it? Even the worst trackers Konoha has would have found him by now—and Kakashi is by no means the worst. The pack knows him. If Kakashi was looking…

But he’s not. He’s not, is he?

He’s led back to the futon, laid out on his back, and then his neck is tied up to a stake the man’s placed near the pillows. His wrists, too, are taken and tied up above his head to the same rope, to the same stake.

“I think you’ll be ready to bring home in a few more days, pet,” he says. “You’re almost done.”

Almost broken, you mean

The man lifts Iruka’s legs over his shoulders and thumbs at his hole. “So pretty. I like this much better than taking you from behind. I get to see that beautiful scar, the play of your face. You can’t imagine how beautiful your eyes are, full of fear. But you don’t have to be afraid right now, pet. Your eyes are just as beautiful in the throes of ecstasy.”

At the sound of chirping electricity screeching in the cavern, Iruka snaps his eyes open—he didn’t realize they were closed—and feels his heart begin to race. The man is suddenly gone from his looming position over Iruka; he lowers his legs back down, bending his knees. The grunt and gurgle of death is sweet to his ears, but he holds back his tears for when he is sure this isn’t a hallucination.

Unruly silver hair comes into view first, and then the careful fingertips dipping to pick at the paper tag stuck to his neck. The mask, Konoha hitai-ate, the exposed sharingan and gentle gray eye beside it; Iruka hiccups a sob.

“You came,” he whispers.

~

Kakashi pulls the chakra repression seal off Iruka’s neck and tosses it away.

Iruka whispers something, he doesn’t catch it, but he nods anyway. “Let’s get you home, dear,” he says, and cuts the ropes keeping Iruka’s neck and wrists bound to the stake in the ground.

He looks around the cave, but Iruka’s clothes and gear are missing. Kakashi pops a scroll from his own vest and unseals a spare set of his own clothes; they’ll be a little tight, and a little long, but he can’t—can’t let anyone else…

Gods. Fuck.

What good is he, if he can’t even keep one person safe?!

He helps Iruka into his clothes. His heart warms to see Iruka lift the collar of the shirt and pull it up to his nose and take a deep breath, scenting it. “Can you walk?” he asks once Iruka’s clothed.

Iruka shudders. “Probably not,” he says. His voice is small, like it is when he comes out of a dissociation episode. Shit, how many did he have? “I can try, though,” he continues, and then he stupidly pushes himself up to standing and immediately sways to the side.

Kakashi jumps up to catch him, cradling his partner—will he still trust him after all this, shit, he fucked up so badly they might not make it through this without breaking up, no—and slipping his arms around Iruka’s knees and back. “Please don’t strain yourself, dear,” he grits. “Let me help.”

Iruka nods and wraps his arms around his neck. Kakashi begins flickering out of the cave. He has the rapist’s body in a scroll in his vest, so someone can autopsy it when they get home. Everything else he left. He can’t—

He can’t be in that cave another second.

Iruka burrows into the collar of his flak vest and is muttering again. This time, Kakashi focusses and listens; he wishes he hadn’t.

“You came. You came. You came.”

His heart breaks. Had their fight really unsettled Iruka enough that he thought…

He chokes, presses a kiss to Iruka’s hair and mutters back, “Always, love. Always.”

~

Kakashi doesn’t leave Iruka’s side throughout his admission into the hospital, various check-ups, blood tests, rape-trauma treatments, oral report; he has to leave the room for the standard psych evaluation, and then again when Rikona-sensei arrives for their own session. But he stands sentinel just outside and waits until he’s let back in, and the second he’s allowed he’s asking for Iruka’s hands and pressing kisses to rope-burned wrists.

He finds out that the pigeon had delivered a letter from one Sato Touma, declaring that the shinobi Umino Iruka, registration number 011850, had completed his latest mission, and to not come searching for him as he was now a pet of the Sato family, barring a training and testing period. Tsunade made the right call in sending her strongest shinobi after Touma—if she’d let it go, the Sato family could have assumed that any Konoha shinobi were free for the taking. Sending Kakashi was a show of force.

The Sato family won’t touch Konoha again. Not with Touma dead in their morgue.

This… doesn’t put Kakashi at ease. He can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Iruka’s supposed to be released from the hospital tomorrow. He’ll feel better once they’re behind Iruka’s wards. No one gets past those wards without Iruka’s permission.

“Kakashi?”

He realizes he’s been pacing, and collapses onto the chair beside Iruka. “What do you need?” he asks.

Iruka is… strangely calm. Actually, that’s not so strange if he thinks about it—and Kakashi really doesn’t want to think about why Iruka’s calm about having been brutally raped. Because if he thinks about it, he’ll remember Sato, and Mizuki, and then the Hate will start to fester again and this is not the time nor the place—

“I told him to stop,” he whispers. Louder, he continues, “I-I fought as hard as I could.”

Kakashi takes his hands and holds them between both of his own. “Iruka, dear, I’m sorry. I should have been faster. I—”

“Don’t you get it? I told him to stop. I fought him. Me. I fought him,” there’s a slight hint of hysteria in his voice, but Iruka’s smiling through the tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t… I wasn’t strong enough to save myself. But I can do it now, Kakashi.” He sniffs, hiccups, and says, “I can—I can tell someone to stop.”

And suddenly, Kakashi understands. “You. Oh, love,” and Iruka pulls Kakashi into the embrace as Kakashi falls into it. He chuckles, his own brand of hysteria bubbling up out of his chest. “You were never—you—Gods all that before, it was never about me, was it?”

“I needed to know I could do it,” Iruka mutters. “If I’d told you what I was doing, the reaction wouldn’t have been real. I needed. I needed to be able to ask even though I knew it was going to disappoint you. To anger you.”

“I was never angry,” Kakashi assures him quickly. “Frustrated, annoyed; yes. Never angry. Fuck, I thought I’d lost your trust somewhere, somehow.”

“I could never have done it with anyone else,” Iruka nuzzles his hair. “I never doubted your ability to stop. It was never about that.”

“I’m. Still really frustrated about it all.” Iruka nods above him. Kakashi continues, “But I’m so happy for you, love, that you’ve found that strength.”

“I’ve found that strength thanks to you,” Iruka says, carding his fingers through Kakashi’s hair. “If this had happened two years ago, or more, I… I wouldn’t have. Shit, I would have been worse than a doll for him. And, yeah, I had a few dissociation episodes; but I resisted them. Before, I would have just gone down and-and never come back.”

Kakashi picks his head back up and drags his mask down with a finger. “Can I kiss you?”

Iruka’s smile brightens like the dawn. “Yes. Please.”

They keep it chaste—they’re still in the hospital, and Iruka could have new triggers neither of them know about yet. But the simple press of lips on lips is enough to make Kakashi’s chest pound and his fingertips tingle. Gods he almost lost this.

“He had me believing you wouldn’t come,” Iruka reveals into their kiss.

“My love,” Kakashi murmurs back, lips to lips, “I will always come for you.”

[graymatters]

On Insecurity

Number 12 Grimmauld Place smells absolutely rancid as Draco Malfoy feels the warm wash of the wards permit his entrance. A putrid mix of days-old takeaway, stale whiskey and smoke assaults his senses as he scans the poor state of the front room.

He’s not heard from Harry for weeks. As a result, Draco had initially convinced himself that he’d imagined the last few months. Denial and disbelief progressed to a deep sense of guilt, whispering that he would never have been allowed to keep this anyway. Harry must have finally remembered that the creature he’d let crawl into his bed had ugly scars and a black mark that screamed ‘wretched’ and ‘undeserving.’ Draco knew it would happen eventually. He knew it back in December when Harry, wrapped in a crimson and gold scarf, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, had actually smiled at him when he entered the pub.

Regardless, Draco had wrung every ounce of bliss that he possibly could out of these weeks. He’d savored each time Harry’s knee had secretly rested against his under the table, every soft touch in the middle of the night and the white hot touches that followed after. The short time they’ve had was more than he deserved and he wasn’t going to hurt Harry by asking for more than he could give.

Draco was well into drowning in his disillusionment when Granger had shown up, frazzled and desperate on his doorstep, asking if he’d heard from Harry. She couldn’t reach him by owl, couldn’t get through his floo and the house was warded shut. The distress in her eyes made Draco’s stomach drop and he cursed himself for allowing his self-deprecating nature to make Harry’s absence all about himself.

He weaves through the neglected home to find Harry in a dark and musty upstairs bedroom, sitting on a worn desk with one knee pulled up under his chin, his other leg dangling off the edge. He’s wearing old pajama pants that are two sizes too big and hang low on his hips, but didn’t make it so far as to put on a shirt. His hair isn’t just unkempt, it’s unwashed and greasy. A thin trail of smoke escapes from the end of a lit cigarette that dangles loosely from his hand. Harry absently watches the curling wisps float out the open window next to him.

He turns when the floor creaks under Draco’s weight. The bright green of his eyes contradicts Harry’s lifeless expression and makes Draco uncomfortable.

“Harry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Draco fidgets with a stray string on his sweater and looks at Harry’s hands, his toes that graze the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not up for this right now,” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

“And what’s that?” Draco asks, raising his eyes to look at Harry’s chewed lips, the anxious scratch marks that trail his neck and chest.

Harry turns to look back out the window. He places the shrinking cigarette between his lips and mutters around it, “A pep talk.” A clump of ash falls and lands on Harry’s knee. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“What if I’m not here for a pep talk? What if I’m here to bum a smoke?” Draco hopes he sounds confident.

“Then you’re shit out of luck,” he shrugs. “Last one,” he says a bit louder and casually blows smoke in Draco’s direction.

Draco steps towards the desk. “May I sit?”

Harry just shrugs again. Not a ‘no,’ Draco thinks. He sits, and brings his knee up to his chest, mirroring Harry’s position.

He glances at the ash pile that still graces Harry’s knee, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. A subtle nod grants him permission and he brushes the ash off of Harry’s threadbare pants. Their fingers brush as Harry passes the cigarette to Draco. The smoke curls deep in his lungs. He blows it out the window and looks towards Harry when he says, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How are you, really?”

“Shit.”

“I can see that. And smell that.”

Harry huffs a hint of laughter through his nose and aims his gaze towards Draco. “Git.”

“If you wanted sugar-coated truths, you should’ve let Granger through the wards,” Draco shrugs and takes another puff of the cigarette. “This is vile.”

Harry reaches to pluck the cigarette from Draco’s lips. “More for me then.” He places a grin on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something.

“Thought you were ignoring me,” Draco admits.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m ignoring everyone.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you smell that, too?” Harry smirks.

Draco ignores him and says, “Figured you’d finally realized the gravity of the mistake you made.”

“Which one?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“The one where you’re sleeping with your arch enemy and sharing your deepest secrets with an ex-death eater,” Draco whispers.

The smirk disappears from Harry’s face and he says, “Sure, every time I see your face I can’t help but think, yup, definitely fucked that one up.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one if you did. Great conversation starter with my parents.”

Harry reaches out to interlace their fingers and says, “I look at you and ask myself what the fuck I did to earn this. I wonder what you were even thinking, getting anywhere near me after… everything.” He gives Draco’s fingers a squeeze. “You’re the one that should be questioning his decisions right now. Unless you think the unshowered and depressed look is sexy?”

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t think there’s a thing you could do to convince me this is a mistake. And the days-old filth and aura of misery is actually quite the turn-on for me. Had to restrain myself from jumping your bones the minute I saw those tattered pants.” Draco looks down at their hands for a moment before continuing, “Now, contrary to my typical behavior, I am not here to talk about me. Do you care to tell me why no one’s heard from you for weeks?” Draco asks as he watches Harry toss the cigarette butt on the floor. It joins a mess of dirty clothes, half-consumed takeaway containers, dirty utensils and piles of ash.

Harry thinks for a moment before answering, “No.”

Draco sends a stern gaze towards Harry. Harry’s knee falls outward and he releases Draco’s hand to place his palms on the desk. He leans forward so far that their lips are nearly touching. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco brings his hands up to cup Harry’s face, smooths his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. He says, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry leans his cheek into Draco’s hand, closes his eyes as he rests against Draco’s support and says, “Hmmm… Have you ever watched a muggle telly? You couldn’t imagine what I had to pay to get this to work in this ancient fucking house, but how could I wallow in self-pity without it? Walburga screamed for days, can’t believe I didn’t invite you for the fun.” Harry proceeds to slip out of Draco’s hands and off the desk to lean against the doorframe. “Would you like to see?”

“How about we get you in the shower first? Self-care is important, Potter. No, I won’t take this nonsense. You find a clean, and I mean clean, towel and I will get the shower started for you. And before you even ask, yes, you must wash your hair. It is required, or Merlin help me, I will leave, you just watch.”

After Harry is washed, they spend the evening with limbs tangled under blankets, eating popcorn that Draco successfully did not burn. Draco mindlessly runs his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, untangling the strands as he goes. They watch reruns of a show called Friends , and Draco laughs but also questions this Ross fellow’s character. It’s nearly midnight when Draco turns to Harry and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry turns the volume down as Phoebe sings a rude Christmas song. “Hermione’s pregnant,” he says with a finality.

“Ok. You seem sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m happy for them, I really am. But,” he exhales loudly.

Harry shifts his hips to settle into the sofa a bit more, presses himself against Draco from shoulder to knee. Still uncomfortable, he turns sideways to slide his legs between Draco’s and leans his elbow against the back of the sofa. Draco waits patiently through the nervous repositioning until Harry responds, “I feel a bit... left behind? It’s like everyone else has figured out how to move on. How to, I don’t know, get past the fucking trauma that we went through, and just, keep going. Hermione’s on track to be Minister of Magic by thirty, Ron’s about to overtake Robards as Head Auror, you’ll be running your own ward at St. Mungo’s, I know you will. And here I am, still having god damned nightmares.” He looks into his lap, “I dropped out of auror training. I had a panic attack during a bogart exercise and I just... left.”

Draco reaches up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead, revealing the beginning of the lightning bolt scar that continues through his left eye and disperses over his cheekbone. “Harry, you are so good, and brilliant, and beautiful. You can still be what you want to be, whatever that is and whoever that is, whenever you want. Or not. You could escape to Reykjavik. You could start a circus for all I care, as long as you’re happy, the context is irrelevant.”

“What would I do in Reykjavik?”

“Soak in the hot springs til you shrivel up like a prune. Fuck if I know, but that wasn’t really the point. Harry, you don’t owe anyone anything. Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest.”

Harry moves to nuzzle his nose into Draco’s neck. His exhalations are hot against Draco’s skin. He traces his nose to follow the line of muscle up behind Draco’s ear, tugs at the lobe with his teeth and whispers, “You make me happy.”

“Well thank fuck for that. We’re not done here, not even close.”

Harry’s breath tickles Draco’s neck, sends a shiver down his spine. “Can we be done for now?” he whispers into Draco’s ear.

Counting the short conversation as a win, Draco lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “For now.” Harry celebrates his victory by licking a stripe up the side of Draco’s neck, making Draco cringe. The shape of Harry’s smile is obvious as his lips trail gently back down Draco’s skin and his hand settles under Draco’s sweater to rest firmly against his ribs.

Also on AO3.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(6/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 3 │Part 4 │Part 5 Read on ao3

They were getting married.

It wasn't exactly planned — any part of it, really, all just came up on its own or spiraled into place after years of floating in the air. Adam came from his final year earlier than expected — than Ronan expected, really, apparently Adam planned it to be a surprise — having taken a heavier workload in the first semester and finishing his dissertation in March. He had told Ronan he would miss Easter and he did, coming only two days later.

It was the beginning of April and the weather that week had been unexpectedly good and they sat in the fields, Ronan was braiding his third flower crown — one had been eaten by Opal, one was on Adam's head.

"It's so warm in Virginia," Adam said, directing his face into the sun. He always complained about Harvard being cold, no matter how many blankets and sweaters Ronan had sent him. "It's the most dream-like part here. We should get married in spring and have a wedding in the meadows, it would look like from a Victorian novel."

He said it way too casually to justify Ronan's heart attempting to escape his ribcage at such alarming speed. He also didn't add anything, just leaned further on his elbows, touching Ronan's shoulder with his forehead.

Ronan didn't even think before he got up, making Adam fell on his face, and told him, "Fucking wait here and don't move even an inch."

It took him twenty minutes to run to the house, throw away all the cookbooks from the shelf in the kitchen — the shelf Adam was forbidden from touching after his third attempt at crêpes — grab a small cardboard box from behind the backboard, and run back. Making his way through the meadow, he wished he had put it in something better-looking and not just left it in the same box he picked it up from the jewelry shop.

Adam was still sitting where he left him, this time with Opal on his knees, showing her how to finish the flower crown Ronan abandoned.

Ronan felt his hands sweat.

He kneeled down.

Adam stared at him, his arms going limp around Opal. He frowned. "Ronan?"

He said it so softly Ronan could feel his heart growing at the sound.

When he resized the ring — one of his mom's, one of the few she wore outside of her wedding band — he had told himself that he will make a plan. At first, he thought about taking Adam to Lindenmere, but they were there too often for it to be something special and Ronan wanted it to be something special. He thought about restaurants and hikes and dreamt fireworks and writing it on a cow's fur and going on a boat on the lake. He thought about putting the ring in a birthday cupcake — although with Ronan's luck, Adam would choke on it — or in a flute of champagne — Adam didn't drink alcohol — and he thought about a hundred different foods he could cook for him. It all didn't seem right, seemed overly cheesy or normal or conventional, and they were anything but that.

Adam was anything but that.

So Ronan kneeled there, in the meadow full of spring flowers and fresh grass, and both of his knees were getting wet from the muddy ground and he had the most gorgeous view of Adam's face drawn by a flower crown made of buttercups, golden ragworts, and with Virginia bluebells falling onto his forehead and ears. With his warm complexion and light freckles and even warmer blue eyes, Adam looked like the spring personified.

They had to marry in spring.

"Fuck," he said finally. "I don't know what to—how to..."

Adam turned around to the side more, Opal's head falling more onto his right shoulder. They were both looking at him, the same shade of blue piercing through Ronan's soul.

Adam raised one hand to his face, stroking his thumb over Ronan's cheekbone. "Hey," he said. "You don't have to."

He did have to.

Ronan ripped the box, throwing the scraps on the ground.

"Marry me."

Adam's hand moved down, curving around Ronan's nape. "Of course."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't a yes, but—

But it was enough and they were engaged. And Adam Parrish, the boy of his dreams, was his fiancé.

When they got back home — and Ronan hadn't let go of Adam's hand the whole time, even when Ronan protested saying she wanted them to swing her back and forth between them — Adam stopped in the foyer.

"Go wait in the kitchen," he said and went upstairs in a quick stride.

So Ronan did. He made them coffee and sat down, suddenly feeling nervous, the tension fleeting back into his tightly wound shoulders.

Adam came back downstairs, sat on the other side of the table with a grin.

"I got you a ring too," he said, lying a velvet box onto the table. "I was going to propose on my graduation day."

He opened the box. It was a simple black gold ring with Celtic engraving but it must have cost at least a month of unstopping hard work, divided between a longer time — it meant so much more if one knew the true value.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, Ronan could only hear the humming coming from their old fridge and his own thoughts sprinting through his head.

Ronan started crying.

It was an involuntary response. He didn't know he needed it, needed to know that Adam wanted it as much as Ronan did, that he wanted Ronan to feel as special as Ronan wanted Adam to feel. He thought that it was implied, that he was the one to notice when Adam was ready and he was the one to propose then.

Adam was still smiling. "Is that a yes?"

"Have I ever fucking said no to you?"

Adam licked his lips. "Well, yesterday, I asked you to do the laundry and—"

"Just give me the ring, Parrish."

So Adam takes it out of the box — which was way prettier than Ronan's because it was Adam and Adam paid attention to every detail, always — grabs Ronan's hand with an unbelievable gentle touch and puts the ring on his finger.

He leaned over the table, holding Ronan's hand in both of his, and pulled it closer to his lips, kissing Ronan's in slow and light as a feather movement.

Ronan couldn't stop crying for good fifteen minutes.

The next Sunday, Ronan asked Adam to go to the mass with him. He had never asked before but Adam sometimes came with him — when he was back from Harvard only for the weekend and didn't want to leave Ronan even for an hour — and Ronan always celebrated it deep within his heart. He didn't tell him why he wanted him to come with him.

The mass ended, people started to leave and Ronan went the opposite way, to Father Cohen who was still standing at the front of the altar.

"Boys," he said, despite the two of them being twenty-three. "I haven't talked to you in a while. How are you doing?"

Adam opened his mouth to say something that was probably polite and good-natured, but Ronan said instead, "When is the closest opening for a marriage ceremony?"

Adam turned around and raised his eyebrow. Father Cohen didn't look any less surprised than him either, wide-eyed, his mouth open but not making a sound.

"Let me grab our calendar," he said after a very long silence. He was clearly stunned that Ronan, who he had known since he was about two and was brought to church for the first time, was getting married.

Ronan was stunned too.

He left to the sacristy in a daze and Adam, as soon as he was out of sight, asked, "What are you doing?"

"What? You said you want a spring wedding. It's spring."

Because St. Agnes was a small church, Father Cohen gave them a list of dates that weren't open, rather than the open ones. It consisted of a whole total of three dates in the next three months, the first open spot being in two weeks.

Ronan said they would take it.

They — or rather Ronan, seeing as Adam was still so shellshocked that Ronan felt like he was tricking him into this marriage — thanked him and Ronan gave Father Cohen Adam's email to forward them any documents they needed to fill.

They were outside the church and Adam still didn't say a word.

"If you don't want to get married now—"

"Do you know how much paperwork it's going to be?" Adam interrupted him.

Ronan blinked, very slowly and — if he dared to admit — fondly. This was the man he chose to marry. The man who agreed to marry him. Who asked him to marry him back.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked. "This is what you're worried about? We just have to get the marriage license and we're done."

Done sounded like this was something Ronan was forced into.

"Yeah, but I'll have to call DMV, SSA, my bank," Adam listed off. "I'll have to pay for the last-minute change of my diploma if Harvard even lets me change it so close to graduation."

He wasn't making sense. "What? Are they suddenly adding married to on a diploma?"

Adam scrunched his eyebrows in the manner that always made Ronan want to kiss his forehead — he would always do that when dealing with someone stupid.

"No, but I'd prefer not to deal with the explanation why my name doesn't match the one on my diploma to any of my future employers."

Oh. Oh.

"You want to—like, take my name?"

Adam smacked his side. "Don't be an idiot," he said, frowning. "Of course I—I mean, unless you don't want me to—"

"I want you to," Ronan replied instantly.

"Well, then you're helping me fill all those documents."

They filled the paperwork Father Cohen sent Adam and went to the courthouse the next day, getting a marriage license and leaving it, and newly bought wedding bands, in church on the way home.

Then came the first problem — telling everyone.

They had been sitting on the couch, both of their phones on the coffee table in front of them, and argued about who was going to tell Gansey.

It was, technically, not a big deal. Gansey would be, in the end, happy for them, but in the end was the keyword here — it'd be proceeded by a rant, a scolding, lots of detailed questions like, why didn't you tell us sooner, and none of them knew how to answer them. Calling Blue would result in the same outcome, as Gansey was bound to butt into the conversation once Blue forwarded the message.

"Maybe we just don't fucking tell him and the maggot," Ronan suggested.

"And how is gonna know to show up for the wedding?"

Ronan groaned, hitting his forehead on Adam's shoulder. Repetitively.

"Maybe I'll just text him," he added. "Or you text him. He's used to being ghosted by you after you text him."

This wasn't actually such a horrible idea so Ronan took his phone, typed out something that would have minimal detail, showing it to Adam, who retyped something else.

The final result was, bring maggot and cheng next sunday to the barns at 1. wear something nice.

Ronan sent the text. Gansey called him within three minutes. Ronan declined the call. Gansey called Adam after another two minutes, which he also declined. Instead, Adam texted Maura, with the same but slightly more polite message.

It left them with Declan and Matthew.

"They are your brothers," Adam said when Ronan suggested he could call them.

"I texted Dick," he countered. "It's your turn."

"It's your turn," Adam mocked. "Is this how it's gonna be for the rest of our life?"

Ronan grinned. The rest of their life sounded so good. "Yeah, get used to that."

Adam bit his lip, holding himself back from grinning back. "Fine."

Adam texted Declan, Church is at 1 30 next week, be at the Barns at 1, kind of lying. The important thing was, Ronan didn't have to deal with Declan. If he was the one to send such a text, Declan would inevitably start calling him as soon as he read it, not giving up until Ronan picked up or straight up driving from DC just to know what was going on.

Which put them on Sunday next week, preparing for the arrival of everyone.

They had prepared the meadow the day before, taking a dreamt stretchable tent there and carried the grill there, among with the living room table and chairs and a dreamt stereo that connected to Spotify despite now electricity or no Internet connection. The field now turned mostly yellow, with occasional bluebell here or there, but it was still an amazing view — Ronan planned to make another flower crown for Adam, once they were already married. Right now they left the tent without food, watched by Chainsaw who soared in circles, sitting on the table from time to time.

It was cozy, probably cozier than even the smallest wedding receptions were but Adam would never agree to have a big party in some rented venue and Ronan hated any venue he had looked up online. It suited them.

Opal was ready, dressed first out of the three of them. She had insisted she wanted to be a flower girl — they didn't even know she knew what that was — and allowed them to put herself in a better-looking pair of culottes and a white shirt.

She had a fool basket of dandelions and buttercups ready — hidden, so she wouldn't eat it before they even left for the church — and probably was already muddy, seeing as she left the house as soon as Adam told her she was done.

It left Ronan and Adam, squeezing in front of the main bathroom mirror while they both put on their suits.

"So, how pissed Dick will be?"

Adam didn't look at Ronan when answering, concentrating on making his tie straight instead. Ronan planned to crook it again as soon as he was done.

"Gansey? He'll be fine, he is used to you, isn't he," he said. "I'm more worried about Blue. Or your brother."

Declan. It was clear he meant Declan.

They had become better over the years, to the point that Ronan could finally, without any guilt or any anger, call him family. The first time he had referred to him just as his older brother and not his dickhead older brother, about two years ago, Ronan was taken aback but not with an unpleasant aftertaste. They talked about the stuff that made them angry and about their dad, but he still could easily come off as judgemental towards Ronan's impulsive life decisions and Ronan had never really learned what he thought about him and Adam, and those two things were unvaryingly connected in this case.

"You don't think he will, like, leave?"

Adam turned around, his full attention on Ronan. His face softened in a way that used to be foreign as he took Ronan's face into his hands.

"No, Ronan, of course he won't," he said. "I'm sure he's going to have gray hair before he turns twenty-seven, but he won't leave. Jordan would make him sleep on the couch if he did."

He smiled at Ronan, the reassuring kind of smile that was mostly transmitted through his eyes.

Ronan grabbed one of his palms and kissed it. Then he crooked Adam's tie.

Fifteen minutes before everyone was about to arrive, Ronan and Adam sat down on the porch. Opal was sitting in the grass behind the banister, her pants already a bit muddy, observing snails. Or maybe eating them.

The first car came, the obnoxious orange of it visible from the beginning of the long driveway, followed by a shiny black Volvo.

Adam and Ronan stayed seated until all seven of them were out of the cars.

"What is going on?" Blue asked.

Hennessy, Jordan, Declan, and Matthew were standing on the right of the stairs to the porch, and Gansey, Cheng, and Blue were standing on the left. Ronan felt surrounded, especially with Adam now pushing his lower back and staring at him like he wanted Ronan to begin.

Ronan was not going to begin. "You go first, Parrish."

"You shithead," he grumbled under his breath, sending him a death glare. "Can't believe I'm signing myself for an eternity of this."

Ronan's grin widened.

Loud enough for everyone to hear it, Adam said, "We're getting married."

"What?"

"In half an hour," Adam added.

And the chaos erupted.

Matty, bless his heart — and Cheng, but without the blessing — was as excited as if it was his wedding, Blue was asking, again and again, how could they not tell her, and Gansey and Declan kept on asking, shouting over each other, whether this was a joke. Hennessy had to step away because she was laughing so loud.

"I hate this," Adam told him, close to his ear. "Why did we decide to get married again?"

"So you can have a brand new name and steal my fortune?" he said, nudging him with his elbow. He got a beautiful chuckle as a reward. "Cover your ear, baby."

Ronan came to the agreement with Adam — after an argument about Murder Squash in the car — that Adam's hearing was to be prioritized and he was to avoid ear-splitting noises at all costs. So no sudden, loud noises around Adam.

Adam covered his ear and stepped aside.

"SHUT UP," he shouted with the voice of someone who trained traditional Irish singing for ten years, making everyone quiet down. "We're getting married, end of the story. You can now move along with the crowd or leave."

Ronan hoped nobody left.

Nobody left, but everyone did shut up. Blue, Gansey, and Declan were all looking like they wanted to say something still, and Jordan now looked as amused as Hennessy.

Adam stepped up closer to the stairs, grabbing Ronan's hand on the way. "Gansey, you're going to be our witness."

Ronan squeezed his hand. "And you, Dickwad," he said, clearly looking at Declan, "are our second witness."

There was a very long silence when everyone stared at Ronan as if he grew a second head, Declan, in particular, like he was about to cry. Adam squeezed his hand.

When they discussed who they wanted to be the witness at their wedding, they agreed on Gansey immediately. Declan was Ronan's first choice for the second person, Blue was Adam's. Adam wasn't surprised, even expected that apparently, but Ronan realized that while his and Declan's relationship was getting better, there was a lot that they would never fully leave behind. Ronan didn't mind that and this was supposed to convey it without using the words. Clearly, it was a very bold statement.

"I told you I should have put on a suit," Gansey broke the silence, turning to Blue. "I can't go to church just in a shirt." He had dress pants and a white shirt on.

"Jesus fuck, Dick, you're not walking Adam down the aisle, you don't need a three-piece suit," Ronan said, hoping they have somehow omitted the rant and the scolding for now.

"Yeah, but Declan might walk Ronan," Adam added with a smirk. Ronan squeezed his hand hard enough to be uncomfortable, but he didn't budge, continuing, "Opal wanted to be a flower girl so someone has to do it."

Declan still didn't say anything.

Everyone packed back into their cars, Adam managed to put Opal in her car seat without getting the mud on his white suit while Ronan grabbed her flower basket from the house.

In the church — where Calla, Maura, and Dean were already waiting — the two of them left Opal with everyone and went to Father Cohen. After that, Adam told him he would go to the bathroom before the ceremony began and asked Ronan to watch that Opal didn't eat the flowers.

"Hey," he spoke up before Adam left. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He tapped his cheek and Adam chuckled.

"I'll be back in less than five minutes," he noticed.

"Don't care."

Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan leaned in and Adam kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll be back. In less than five minutes."

"I'm counting," Ronan told him.

He was left alone in front of the altar, what with almost everyone sitting down, Gansey having Blue adjust Dean's tie under his collar — it was too long to ever fit him properly — and with Father Cohen back at the sacristy.

It, unfortunately, left Ronan alone with Declan. "Ronan," he said.

"Yes, this is my fucking name."

He made a face. "Can you be serious for a moment?"

Ronan could, if he wanted to, but right now, he wasn't in the mood.

"Do you really want me to—to be your witness?"

This was exactly why Ronan didn't want to tell him about the wedding.

"You just have to sign your name on a stupid piece of paper," Ronan said, which was technically the truth but also not really. "It's not a big deal."

And Declan didn't say anything, just stared at Ronan with a blank face. If he wasn't so used to it, it'd make him fidget.

And then he hugged Ronan. It wasn't even the arm-clapping-his-back hug, it was the arms-around-shoulders and I'm-not-letting-you-go hug that he used to give Ronan when he didn't want to go to elementary school.

Over Declan's shoulder, he saw Jordan, giving him a two-handed thumbs up. Ronan hated all the weirdos in this family equally.

Which meant not at all.

"You will get snot on my jacket if you start crying," he said. It was probably too late for that.

Before he knew it, Matty was sandwiching the both of them in between his arms with a grip of someone who played in a college league lacrosse team, squeezing them to the point that both Declan and Ronan had to protest. Together.

Adam came back in front of the altar with Father Cohen in tow.

Ronan stood on the left side, Adam stood on the right. Declan was behind Ronan, Gansey behind Adam. Opal, right now holding their rings on a cushion that was tucked into her flower basket, was in between them.

Ronan smiled and Adam smiled back.

The ceremony began.

[dimitribelikov]

The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.2

✶ This one got pretty long. I even ended it quicker than planned, so hopefully it’s not too overwhelming. Admittedly, this installment deals less with Tasha, and more about Dimitri’s feelings towards Adrian. **There will be a Pt.3 and probably a Pt.4. ✶ notes : All dialogue is straight from Frostbite, chapter 15. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : some language ✶ ships : romitri ✶ Part 1 can be found here  |  more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

       My argument with Rose the day before had left me in such a darkened state, that I had completely forgotten about my original mission to check in with the guardians and find out more news on the Strigoi attacks. It was just as well, though. I knew there wasn’t going to be any big revelations unless someone where to come get me. I ended up spending the evening in Tasha’s company. Over dinner, she went on and on about her radical ideas for reforming the Moroi’s views on defense. Usually I ate her passion up with fascination, but I couldn’t help but find myself distracted. I mean, Adrian? Really?

Yet as soon as the vampiric morning came, I had only one thought on my mind as I left my room: to find Janine Hathaway to go over the tragedy that had happened and the ensuing arguments that had unfolded in the Moroi meeting. Janine was someone that I had always looked up to, and she seemed a bit more forthcoming with information than others. Surely with her, I could get a better grip on what was going on in our world. I knew that I could also provide some insight for the guardians into the Moroi side of things via Tasha’s conversation at dinner.

I was a one tracked mind, striding through the hotel’s hallways with no other worry in my head, let alone the fight with Rose. Until I heard her very voice from an open door. Damnit. Even in the wake of such important matters, her voice was able to bring me to a screeching halt, curiosity replacing my earlier determination.

I paused, wondering what she was doing in this wing of the resort. Almost immediately I realized that the open door belonged to none other than Adrian. Again?! Thoughts of her staying the night danced through my mind, but I pushed them out right away. 

“I just want to know what’s going on here,” she demanded of her audience.

Sure enough, when I stood just behind her and was able to take in the scene of Adrian’s room, it looked as though Rose had just arrived. Further puzzling was the appearance of Lissa there. Surely Adrian couldn’t be that much of a scoundrel, I thought. Then again, with the stories I’d heard, I wouldn’t put it past him. “Me too,” I said, announcing myself. I could hear the short tone in my voice, but was careful to keep my expression neutral as I studied every detail of the room.

Rose had turned to regard me with a surprised look, and though I loved the victory of catching her guard, I couldn’t help but notice the cloud fo perfume that surrounded her. Had she actually gotten dolled up for the Ivashkov loser?

My annoyance deepened at the thought and I invited myself in, clinging to the one weapon I had: my authority. “Male and female students aren’t supposed to be in each other’s room.” I’m pretty sure a younger me just rolled his eyes and made a gagging sound at the lame “adult speech”.

“How do you keep doing this?” Rose demanded of Adrian, ignoring my recitation of the rules.

“Do what?” he replied. Ugh, that fucking grin. I wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face!

“Keep making us look bad!”

“You guys are the ones who came here.”

Adrian’s reply snapped me back into the argument. The two, innocent, young girls were visiting his room unescorted? I was beginning to sound like my old headmaster, but I didn’t care. “You shouldn’t have let them in. I’m sure you know the rules at St. Vladimir’s.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to follow any school’s stupid rules,” Adrian replied. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to actually argue this. In that moment, the girls might have well not even existed. All I cared about what putting the rich brat in his place. Somewhere in my head, a logical voice was reminding me that the Moroi were above me. They come first. I shouldn’t be so harsh in my judgement of him, but I just couldn’t help it.

“Perhaps not. But I would have thought you’d still respect those rules.” Gross. Now I definitely sounded like my old headmaster. Before I could worry about that too much, though, Adrian fired back. And he hit below the belt.

“I’m kind of surprised to find you lecturing about underage girls,” he said cooly.

I froze, feeling anger grow at the audacity with which the Moroi spoke back to me. Under that anger, though, there was fear. What had he’d heard? Clearly that had to be a dig about me and Rose, but I’d been so careful. Surely no one else knew a thing. Right?

“Besides, nothing sordid was going on,” he continued. “We were just hanging out.”

Yeah. Hanging out. Alone in his room. Nothing sordid about that, I thought sarcastically. “If you want to ‘hang out’ with young girls,” I replied, taking another small step towards him. “Do it at one of the public areas.”

My anger was unexpectedly side tracked when Adrian laughed. There was something about that laugh that didn’t sit right with me. My suspicions were confirmed when he went off, rambling about the oddest things. It wasn’t a normal way to win an argument, that was for sure. My head tilted as I studied him, wondering if he was actually as unhinged as he sounded. Just how dangerous is this guy?

Finally he wrapped up the odd soliloquy by actually agreeing me. Though hearing Adrian admit that he was a bad influence didn’t earn much sympathy from me, I was grateful that the discussion was over. It had taken a turn into dangerous territory with a near accusation about me and rose–– and then whatever that��was.

Lissa, Rose, and I took our exit into the hallway, starting the walk back into the lobby. “One’s marked with life, and one’s marked with death,” he had said. It was lunacy and I shouldn’t put too much thought into it, but I couldn’t help but feel a strange sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“That was . . . strange,” Rose had said.

I couldn’t even be mad anymore. The odd turn in Adrian’s demeanor had cast a sobering spell over us all. “Very,” was all I could manage.

Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of the lobby woke me up from my tumultuous thoughts. I knew I couldn’t let Rose simply leave without trying to warn her. Whether I was jealous or not (and I adamantly promised myself that I wasn’t), I was her mentor. It was my job to steer her clear of danger and this situation was no different. “Rose. Can I talk to you?”

I saw her exchange a look with Lissa, but mercifully, the princess left us to our privacy. We moved to the side of a room, avoiding the groups of Moroi who were hurriedly checking out in the wake of the new attacks. Alone with Rose, I could feel my emotions begin to spike again. The jealousy of seeing her with Adrian, the protectiveness of needing to be a good mentor for her–– and now the scent of whatever perfume she’d gotten her hands on. She’d never worn any in the time I knew her, but the crisp, sweet fragrance toyed with my imagination.

Quickly pushing such thoughts away, I tried to figure out how best to tell her what was on my mind. I was still mad about her accusations the previous day, but this wasn’t about me. This was about her. “That was Adrian Ivashkov,” I said, trying and failing to keep the disapproval from my voice.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied quickly. I wonder just how much she knew about him. 

“This is the second time I’ve seen you with him.”

I was sure I could detect annoyance in her eyes, and knew I was losing her attention. “Yeah. We hang out sometimes.”

My stomach dropped as my eyebrow arched. That was the second time I heard that phrase used. I wasn’t oblivious to Rose’s reputation at the Academy, but I also felt that I knew her better than that. Sure, I’d caught her in a very compromising position with the Zeklos kid once, but she’d seemed to have learned from that. Or at least taken the lesson to heart in a mature way. Yet I wasn’t sure that there existed a world in which “hanging out with Adrian Ivashkov” could be anything innocent. “You hang out in his room a lot?” I asked, sounding more accusing than anything else.

I knew Rose too well, though. She wasn’t one to simply take a lecture and peacefully leave. If she felt backed into a corner, she fought. While that was usually something I admired in her, in this moment, I was worried about what rebuttal would come. 

Apparently, even my worst guesses weren’t nearly as bad as what she actually came up with. “What happens between him and me is none of your business.” It wasn’t lost  on me that she did a near perfect impersonation of myself the previous day. Shit, she’s good. Logically I knew that she was just trying to get back at me for the Tasha thing, but I couldn’t help the sudden assault of mental images of Rose and Adrian that bombarded my mind. Thanks to my guardian training, I was able to keep it all hidden from my expression.

“Actually,” I retorted, not missing a beat in my scramble to gain the upper hand. “As long as you’re at the Academy, what you do is my business.” Checkmate!

Rather than ending the argument there, however, it only ramped up, each of us firing back in quick succession. We were a good match for each other in the ring, and clearly that sparring spilled out into other areas of our life.

“Not my personal life. You don’t have any say in that.”

“You’re not an adult yet.”

“I’m close enough. Besides, it’s not like I’ll magically become an adult on my eighteenth birthday.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Was she actually blushing at that? “I meant––”

“I know what you meant,” I cut her off, not wanting to travel down that road right now. Adrian’s borderline accusations still bothered me. “And the technicalities don’t matter right now. You’re an Academy student. I’m your instructor. It’s my job to help you and to keep you safe.” I idly wondered who I was trying to convince more, her or me. “Being in the bedroom of someone like him . . . well, that’s not safe.” 

I hoped she understood what I was trying to convey. I didn’t want to fight. Our argument the previous day killed me, but I wasn’t going to let her self-sabotage herself, either. Rose had the potential to be great. Perhaps even one of the best. I wasn’t going to let a spoiled, rich, royal ruin that for her.

“I can handle Adrian Ivashkov,” she muttered. The sudden mental image of those two in a sparring ring did much to lighten my mood, but not enough to derail me from on the topic at hand. “He’s weird–– really weird, apparently–– but harmless.”

Well that was hardly true. Adrian might not be a killer or anything, but he certainly one of the least harmless guys I knew. What happened to Mason? Why wasn’t she with him? I actually like that guy.

A thought occurred to me just then. This whole time I’d justified myself not being jealous because I was okay with her being with Mason. Yet Mason was absolutely harmless. He was safe. It was obvious to anyone in the same room as those two that he was completely head over heels for Rose, but I never saw the same passion for him in her eyes. Her being with him never seemed like a threat–– ignoring the fact that I had nothing to be threatened with since I’m not even in the equation. I can’t be. It wouldn’t be right. But throw someone like Adrian in? Hell yeah I was suddenly threatened. Rose deserved better than him, but I knew how easy it was for him to get his way with that cocky grin.

Fuck. I really am jealous.

“Speaking of personal lives,” Rose said, mercifully cutting off my traitorous train of thought. At least, I thought it was a mercy until I heard what she was getting at. “I suppose you were off visiting Tasha, huh?”

My own personal revelation weighed too heavily to allow me a quippy, or even scathing, retort. “Actually, I was visiting your mother.”

“You going to hook up with her, too?” At least one of us was on their argumentative A-game.

My mind was too much of a mess to truly react to it, though I had to admit, it was a pretty good line. “No, we were looking over some new data in the Drozdov attack.” After that, any signs of jealousy or mentions of Tasha and Adrian were forgotten as we spoke about the Strigoi problem. Though the heaviness of the situation pressed in on us, I was glad that Rose could set aside our pettiness and take the real problems to heart. I kept calling her a young girl to Adrian, but she truly is mature beyond her years. That didn’t counter the fact that she’s underaged and shouldn’t be anywhere near that jackhole, but it reminded me that she’s more than just a student. One day soon, we’d be working side by side, and I looked forward to that. I may be assigned as her mentor for now, but as we spoke about the Strigoi threat and Moroi politics, I knew that Rose is more than that. She’s my equal. It felt right to divulge the guardian’s knowledge of the Strigoi’s whereabouts to her.

“Why’d you tell me this, anyway?” she asked eventually. “This is guardian stuff. Not the kind of thing you let novices in on.”

I paused, turning over the words in my head. Our heated emotions were gone, and in the wake that followed, I thought back to the way I had been treating her lately. I thought of her as my equal, but I didn’t treat her that way. I wanted to change that. “I’ve said some things . . .  the other day and today . . . that I shouldn’t have. Things that insulted your age. You’re seventeen . . . but you’re capable of handling and processing the same things those much older than you do.”

“Really?” she asked. The look of hope that kindled in her eyes melted my heart then and there. This was how I liked her best, full optimism and void of the anger that always seem to follow her.

I nodded, feeling the hint of a smile on my lips. “You’re still really young in a lot of ways–– and act young–– but the only way to really change that is to treat you like an adult. I need to do that more. I know you’ll take this information and understand how important it is and keep it to yourself.” I was man enough to admit when I was wrong, and my recent treatment of her had been just that. Surely it wasn’t too late to set things right–– and hopefully steer her away from certain disaster.

A moment passed between us. Looking into Rose’s eyes, I could swear that I could hear her thoughts. She wanted to be the kind of person that I wanted to treat her as. I think on some level, we both understood the burden that our futures carried as the last Dragomir princess’s guardians, but we were also both looking forward to carrying it out together.

That moment of peace was short lived, however, when a familiar voice greeted me. “Dimka!” With those two syllables spoken by Tasha Ozera, I felt the mood instantly shift between me and Rose.

to be continued . . .

[imaginetonyandbucky]

(Give Me A) Reason To Live

Chapter 3

by @dracusfyre

“Are you sure about this?” James asked. He was methodically checking his weapons as he distributed them around his body, putting knives in sheaths and guns in holsters. With his cleanly shaved face and newly cut hair – the better for Steve to recognize him – in that stolen SHIELD tactical gear, he was so goddamn sexy that Tony could barely look at him.

“I’ll be a lot safer than you will,” Tony pointed out. “All I have to do is fly around and blow up stuff until you give me the word.”

“Unless they scramble jets or attack helicopters on you,” James pointed out, but Tony waved off his words.

“They’re not going to fire on me in the middle of the city, and once I’m out of the city they won’t be able to keep up,” Tony said confidently, 99% sure of the first part and about 80% sure of the second part. For obvious reasons he’d never tested the suit in a one-to-one matchup with a fighter jet, but he knew their specs and felt good about his chances. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” James said.

A funny note in his voice made Tony glance over, only to see that James was looking at him intently, with a look in his eyes that Tony couldn’t interpret. But it made his heart trip and his mouth dry and before his brain could intervene, he said, “Kiss for good luck?” The look in James’ eyes turned to surprise, and when he took a step forward and opened his mouth Tony panicked. “I’m kidding, obviously,” he babbled, backing away. “Probably should get started, don’t want Steve to wake up without us.”

James narrowed his eyes in a way that promised that he wasn’t going to forget about this, but only said, “We’ll do a comms check on my way to the SHIELD facility.”

“Yep,” Tony said brightly, starting to shove his hands in his pocket before realizing that his flight suit didn’t have pockets, then crossing his arms over his chest instead. “Meet you guys back at the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” As James turned to leave, Tony started to give him a stupid little wave goodbye; he turned it into just a gesture of running his hand through his hair before James could see it. It felt weird and wrong to split up, knowing that he wasn’t going to see James again for at least a week, maybe longer if they had to shake any pursuit. It would be the longest they’d been apart since he’d rescued him from Hydra, and Tony just now realized how much he was going to miss him.

“Bye,” he said softly as the door closed behind James. “Be safe.”

                                         ~~~~

James paused inside the garage, turning to stare at the door he had just closed as he wondered if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. He wanted to go back inside and say goodbye properly, maybe take Tony up on that kiss he’d offered and then taken back, but Tony had been right – the timing on this mission was unforgiving, and if he went back inside he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave again for a while. So instead he just said, “You, too,” to the door and got in the car, anonymous black SUV bought at a police auction with stolen government tags. He took a deep breath as he cranked it up and opened the garage door, trying to set aside his worry for Tony. As good as his suit was – and it was fucking good, James was impressed and proud of how Tony always seemed to find a new way to make it even better – it didn’t make him invincible. James could think of at least three ways off the top of his head to take down the suit and prayed that the element of surprise would keep them from occurring to anyone else.

“Man in a Can, are you there?” James said when he was almost there. The SHIELD facility was near Times Square, for some reason; maybe they’d thought that since Steve had grown up in New York, it would be a good place to start his reintegration, as if the city hadn’t become unrecognizable in the last sixty years. It would be more unsettling than if Steve had woken up in the middle of nowhere, or even still in fucking Greenland.

“Hearing you loud and clear, Terminator.” James rolled his eyes but let himself smile at the call sign. He found a parking spot on the block behind the SHIELD facility, near an alley that would eventually dump into the building’s loading docks.

“I’m in position,” he said.

“Alright. It’s go time,” Tony said, voice barely betraying a hint of nerves. It suddenly occurred to James that he hadn’t really asked what Tony was planning for his distraction, and he had just enough time to feel like maybe that was a mistake before he heard the distinctive whistle and pop of fireworks. Craning his head to see the sky out of his window, he saw streamers of brightly colored smoke appear and heard Tony say something through the speakers in his suit, the echoes of the city making it hard to understand from where he was sitting. But people were starting to hurry away from the building, and the unmistakable sound of flash-bangs going off were his cue. He pulled on his helmet and got out of the car, rifle in hand.

“Building is under attack!” He shouted at the security guards as he approached. “We need to get this place evacuated!” Between the stolen uniform and the air of command – and probably also due to the sound of explosions – they believed him and ran inside to start getting people outside.

James strode through the chaos inside, directing people towards the exists as he made his way to where Steve was being held. He had to go through metal detectors and jump over turnstiles, but everyone was too busy to challenge him as he wove his way deeper into the labyrinthine building. SHIELD had gone with a ridiculous farce to try to ease Steve into the 21st century, setting up a stage inside a warehouse sized room like Steve hadn’t spent enough time on movie stages to recognize one when he saw it. Guards were posted outside, and word of Tony’s distraction must have reached them because when James approached they were talking to each other in low tones, probably deciding whether they needed to get Steve out of there or stay at their posts.

“Change in plans, guys,” James said as he approached, trying to sound breathless and worried. “The director wants us to move him, building is under attack from an unknown assailant and he’s worried for his safety.”

“Move him? But-” James punched him in the face with his metal arm and elbowed the other in the solar plexus before hitting him in the temple with the butt of his rifle, glad that these poor assholes hadn’t been issued helmets.

Then he opened the door to Steve’s room, and despite the fact he’d known what SHIELD had done, the sensation of stepping into the past made him stumble. The sound of the radio, tuned to a Yankees game, was disorienting, as were the images of an older New York being projected outside the windows.

And then there was Steve, laid out on the bed like a man on a stretcher. James pulled off his helmet and approached slowly; seeing him was the most jarring of all, because he looked exactly the same. James felt suddenly felt old, seeing Steve’s face relaxed in sleep; he felt every single one of the sixty years he’d been with Hydra, even if he’d been frozen through most of them. Christ. Waking him up would eventually mean facing those years, in a way he’d been able to avoid with Tony; Tony had known everything already, so James hadn’t had to talk about it at all, just shove it away and forget about it. No awkward conversations about nightmares and insomnia, since Tony had those too. It wouldn’t be like that with Steve, though. Steve would want to know, wouldn’t take no for an answer, would want to know about the arm and the scars and the nightmares. The blood on his hands. He wouldn’t judge, not Steve, but he wouldn’t get it, either, not like Tony did.

Tony had been right. This was going to change everything.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, James sat down on the edge of the bed. The simple motion was already pulling Steve out of sleep; James saw his breathing change, heard his heart speed up and eyes start moving behind his eyelids.

“Steve,” James said softly. “Time to get up, you lazy fuck.”  He hadn’t known what he was going to say until it came out of his mouth, but when it did, James found a new memory; calling Steve a lazy fuck was an inside joke from the war, since Steve had always been up at dawn and bursting with energy.

That made Steve’s eyes fly open. “Bucky?”

James stood as Steve sat up suddenly, eyes glued to his face. “Yeah, it’s me, Steve.”

“What- you-“ he started, before settling on, “How?”

“Long story.” Hell of an understatement. “I’ll tell you when we’re safe.”

“Safe? What do you-” Steve’s eyes flew around the room, and he picked up on all the false elements, the wrong notes and mistakes in the room that James had noticed when he’d walked in. “Where are we?”

“Not a place where we want to stay,” James said. He pulled off the small backpack that had been strapped to his back and pulled out a janitor’s uniform for Steve. “Put this on.”

Even though Steve was still confused, he obeyed, clearly still trusting James. And why wouldn’t he, James thought. He didn’t know what James had been doing the past sixty years. “I’m ready,” Steve said as he zipped it up the front. Standing there, shoulders squared and jaw tight, he didn’t look like a janitor, he looked like goddamned Captain America wearing a janitor’s uniform, but this was they best they were going to get right now. James chucked his helmet and the body armor with the giant SHIELD patch on it and stripped down to a plain burgundy shirt with dark pants to blend in with a crowd.

“Let’s go.” As James led the way out, he turned the mic on to Tony and said, “I got him. We’re heading out now.”

Thankfully, Steve was stubborn but not stupid; as soon as they got out to where there were still streams of people trying to leave the building, he understood immediately what the plan was and his shoulders slumped, making him look shorter and smaller. Explosions outside the large glass windows meant that no one was paying attention to anything but evacuating, so they managed to mingle with an unsuspecting crowd of SHIELD employees to a safe point a few blocks away. They slowly made their way to the edge of the crowd, then just walked away, heading towards an empty NYC cab that James had acquired for their escape. James was just thinking that he was surprised that the mission had gone off without a hitch, when something flashed over his head with a load roar.

“What the hell is that?” Steve said. James looked up in time to see the bright red and gold of Tony’s latest suit disappear down the street, then another loud roar came up from behind them - a quinjet, hot on Tony’s heels. Fast as a jet and as maneuverable as a helicopter, the quinjet was SHIELD’s latest baby, and James cursed because he hadn’t known they were ready to be deployed yet.

“You okay?” James said to Tony on the comms as he herded Steve into the back of the taxi. Not that there was much James could do about it if he wasn’t, since he still had to get Steve out of the city. The thought of Hydra getting their hands on Steve, of getting him into the chair, had been the cause of more than one sleepless night.

“I’m good,” Tony said back. “Still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

James nodded, though Tony obviously couldn’t see him, and got in the driver’s seat of the cab. “One of those guys is with you?” Steve asked from the back, having clearly overheard his conversation.

“Yeah, the one that looked like a robot,” James said as he pulled into traffic. “His name is Tony. You’ll be meeting him back at our safe house.” Thankfully, New York was used to cabs driving aggressively and honking, so he didn’t draw any undue attention as he made his way out of the city. Whenever he looked in the rearview mirror, he could see Steve staring out the window, looking dismayed and baffled by what he was seeing, but he knew better than to distract James by asking questions while they were trying to escape. Soon enough they were out of traffic and into the relative safety of Newark, where James drove the taxi to the airport then hustled Steve into yet another car, this one a beige sedan.

“Are we clear?” Steve asked as James pulled out of the long-term parking lot, pulling the ballcap James had provided him farther down over his face for the parking lot security.

“Clear enough for now,” James said, shoulders finally starting to relax as they got onto the highway heading west. He hadn’t heard from Tony, but that had been part of the plan; the less communication, the better, because SHIELD and the military and Hydra would all be scanning the airwaves trying to get a lock on them. In fact, that reminded him; he pulled the comm device from his ear and crushed it before tossing it out the window. He knew in his head that Tony could take care of himself, but he also knew that he was going to get back to the cabin as fast as possible so he could make sure he was ok.

“Good,” Steve said. “Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

                                                      ~~~~

Tony barrel rolled through the canyons made by New York’s skyscrapers, feeling almost giddy as he fled from the quinjet. The fact that this SHIELD facility had a quinjet was a surprise that he should feel embarrassed about, but to be honest, he was actually having fun. He never really got the chance to push the suit to its limits since they’d mostly been doing stealth operations against Hydra; he’d even been too afraid of being seen to give it a good test run unless they were close to the open ocean.

“JARVIS, turn me on some tunes,” Tony said, and saw his playlist pop up on his HUD before he heard AC/DC blast out of his speakers. The quinjet was able to keep up with him, but obviously they couldn’t fire on him, so for now it was just a fun game of can’t catch me while people gawked from the streets and sidewalk. As big as the quinjet was, that pilot had amazing reflexes and nerves of steel to navigate through the city without damaging any of the buildings. “What��s the word with the Air National Guard?”

“ETA twenty minutes.”

Tony pulled up to hover, and the quinjet, unable to stop so quickly, shot past him. He got a glimpse of the pilots as they flew by and was surprised to see a flash of red hair. He watched as they pulled into a vertical loop to turn around and come back for another pass. “Do you know James’ position?”

“His communicator is going over the George Washington Bridge now.”

“Great. Do we have any more of that smoke?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony made sure that the quinjet was facing him as he flew east, dodging and weaving through the city, the red smoke streaming behind him laying an unmistakable trail. He blasted over Brooklyn, no doubt tangling air traffic over the city as he went past LaGuardia then turned south. He did a loop around the Statue of Liberty, just for fun, before heading east again. When he saw the Atlantic through the maze of buildings, he put on more speed and released the last of the smoke so that for a solid thirty seconds the quinjet didn’t have visibility on him, then dove into the water. 

“Did it work, JARVIS?” Tony asked as he let himself sink into the murky water, making his way slowly out towards the open ocean.

“It appears so, sir. They are attempting to find you on radar now.”

Tony turned on the helmet lights for him to navigate the river, wrinkling his nose at the trash and watching the fish dart around him. The pilot of the quinjet must have suspected that he went into the water because they circled for a long time looking for him, making sweeping passes as they tried to pick him up on their sensors. But Tony had prepared for this; the rebreather in his suit was good for twelve hours before it needed to be replaced so he stayed under the water as he headed north until JARVIS couldn’t sense any signals for miles, radar, radio, or otherwise. GPS said he was somewhere off the coast of Maine, so he climbed to a good cruising altitude – high enough to not be seen by a casual observer, but low enough that he wouldn’t ping off of any air traffic control towers – and headed back west by way of the US-Canadian border.  

It was a long, tiring flight, especially as he went through an adrenaline crash somewhere over South Dakota, but a few hours later he was landing in front of the safe house. He’d know that he’d be back well before James and Steve, but it was still jarring and lonely to walk into the dark cabin all by himself.

He stepped out of the suit and packed it up as he unlocked the door, then he flipped on the lights and froze when saw Stane. “Hello, Tony,” Stane said. “Welcome home.”

[star-six7]

And We’re Living It Up (Leave It All Behind)

Frank Iero x Band Member!Reader (i’m pretty sure that its all gender neutral)

Word Count: 939

A/N: Okay, so some of you might recognize this as a re-upload. I posted it on here several months ago but took it down because I was self-conscious. I was reading it again the other day and I actually really liked it, so I’m putting it back up! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

Warped Tour, 2005. St Louis, MO.

It was only the third stop on Warped, and the heat was already un-fucking-bearable. And while the temperature in St Louis was creeping up on 95 degrees, you knew that it would feel like winter compared to the southwestern dates that lay ahead. Unfortunately, knowing this did little to keep you from feeling miserable.

It was early in the afternoon, and the members of My Chem, yourself included, were fruitlessly trying to kill time before soundcheck and stay out of the heat. Mikey, the most social of the band (despite what the fans seemed to think), was off in the festival grounds, probably hanging out with 1/4 of Fall Out Boy. Gerard and Frank were somewhere in the bus park, likely getting into trouble with some of the other bands. Trouble wasn’t hard to find on Warped. Ray was holed up in the studio in the back of the bus, trying to nail down a riff he had been working on for a few days. You were laying in your bunk, alternating between checking your Sidekick and trying to sleep. After about an hour, you were still bored as all hell.

“Ray,” you said, getting up and swinging open the studio door. “Take a break. I’m bored as fuck, and I want company.”

Ray sighed and took off his headphones. “Do I have to? It’s hot as fuck out, and I’d rather not be dragged into whatever the fuck it is that Frank and Gerard are doing.”

“Fine, we don’t have to leave the bus. What about horror movies, and I don’t fucking know, pizza? Or something,” you conceded.

“Sounds fine with me. I’ve been wanting to have a Friday the 13th marathon.”

“You know none of them are as good as the first,” you grinned. “I’ll call up some pizza.”

After the couch had been (mostly) cleared and pizza from a festival vendor had been delivered directly to the bus (bless Warped security), you and Ray sprawled out on opposite ends of the lounge sofa and pressed play. When the lights were turned off and the AC was at full blast, the tour bus was almost refreshing.

Halfway through Friday the 13th Part Two, the relative peace was disturbed by the bus door opening and a sudden influx of noise, light, humidity, and Frank.

“What the fuck happened to you?” you asked, unimpressed.

“Water guns,” Frank bounced down the aisle towards the bunks. He reappeared moments later, toweling dry his soaked hair and bare chest. He grabbed a blue Gatorade from the mini-fridge at the front, gulping it down. “Joe’s idea.”

You considered this, mildly surprised that the water didn’t evaporate the moment it touched the pavement. “Sounds fun.”

“It was. Hey, is that Jason?” Frank, still shirtless, flung himself facedown across both your and Ray’s laps.

“Dude, if you’re not gonna blow me, get your face outta my lap,” Ray said, looking unimpressed.

“Are you offering, Toro?” Frank turned his head and grinned.

Ray punched him in the head.

Lightly, of course.

The conversation lapsed into comfortable silence as the movie played on, you and Ray eating pizza and ignoring Frank’s occasional squirming.

After finishing the third movie, Ray stood up, jostling Frank, and stretched. “This has been fun,” he sighed. “But I think it’s time to go round up Mikeyway before it’s too late for soundcheck.”

“See you there, then,” you nodded. Frank saluted him.

A few minutes after the bus door had closed, Frank sat up and turned to face you. Knowing what he wanted (it had happened a few times before), you took a quiet breath before turning and meeting his eyes.

He said nothing, just studying your expression with the ghost of a smirk on his face.

Just when the tension was getting ridiculous, Frank slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You felt yourself relax into the kiss, your eyes sliding shut as he slowly pushed his tongue into your mouth. Your hand rested on the back of his neck, your fingers slowly stroking through his short, bleached hair. He moved one hand up from your waist to curve up along your chest, making small, gentle movements with his fingers.

Just as things were really starting to heat up, the bus door opened yet again, this time for Gerard. You jumped back from Frank, praying that the singer hadn’t seen. Luckily, it seemed like Gerard was still adjusting to the sudden darkness and couldn’t see much of anything.

“Hey, where the fuck is my sketchbook? I wanna show the guys from Simple Plan,” he frowned, glancing at the dining table.

“Uh, if it’s not there, it’s probably in your bunk,” you suggested when you had recovered from the shock.

“Thanks. Hey, is that Friday the 13th?” Gerard was already sprinting towards the back.

Frank leaned back into the couch and laughed. “You should have seen your face, holy shit.”

“Shut the fuck up or see if it ever happens again,” you muttered, going red as you turned back to the movie.

Deep down, you both knew it didn’t matter if Frank made fun of you until the cows came home. Whatever “it” was had happened several times before and was most definitely going to happen again. There wasn’t really a name for the strange platonic-yet-romantic attraction between you and Frank, but honestly, you didn’t care. Maybe it would fade at the end of the summer, along with all the sunburns and hazy tour memories. Maybe it would grow into something more, something solid. After all, it was Warped Tour. Stranger things have happened.

A/N: Thank you for reading my work! If you enjoyed it, please comment and let me know what you liked about it or what your favorite part was! Also, feel free to send in requests! :)

[10moonymhrivertam]

Hello! A post by @west-moor got me thinking, and it resulted in this! This is a little left to the point of the post, but it just grabbed hold of my brain for a solid three days. It’s currently full of author’s notes, but I feel the Need to Share. (Please let me know if you’d like to see any of the struck-through bits revisited!)

Warnings: Renfri’s backstory mentioned throughout (rape tw); Jack Harkness-style immortality (death tw, not permanent)

Concept: With a little bit of timeline nudging, Jaskier could be Renfri’s son

“Dandelion, come here before I go.” Renfri held out her arms, and Julian dashed forward, snuggling into her. She squeezed him. “I want you to make me a promise, okay?” Her voice was soft but raw. Julian frowned - this must be serious. 

“What kind?” He asked, refusing to let go of her. She rested her chin on the top of his head. ((she’s grateful she doesn’t have to look him in the eye))

Renfri sighed, tracing patterns on his back. “The [hard/important/??] kind. What I’m about to do...it might get me in trouble. I -“ Renfri hugged him tighter. “I might not be able to get back home.”

“What?” Julian’s voice went up, and Renfri shushed him gently, kissing the top of his head. 

“I want to. I’m going to try to. But this is dangerous, Dandelion. Even so, I have to take this chance. I’m so sorry.” Renfri took a breath. “But I need you to promise me, Julian, that if I don’t come home...you won’t do anything about it.” She squeezed him, so he didn’t shout like he wanted to. “No matter what you hear. No matter what Stregobor might do. That bastard cannot have you, do you understand?” Julian squirmed, and Renfri loosened up her hug with an apology, finally pulling back to look at him. “I don’t trust him not to use any excuse he can to hurt you, too. So we’re not going to give him an inch. Not a thing he can twist about you the way he did me. Alright?” She cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “So that’s the promise. No revenge. I don’t care what else you do, love - swordplay or poetry, or -“ She grasped for a third option, shook her head when she couldn’t seem to find one. “Anything but revenge. Promise?”

“Promise, Mummy.” Julian saw her eyes go misty. ST ? It was probably because he’d called her Mummy instead of Renfri. That’s what everyone else called her, and she was fine with him doing it, too. [Also draws less attention than Mummy] But sometimes, when he was scared or when something was important, Mummy meant so much more ? ST

*****

Fuck, but it had been hard without Renfri. It seemed like it would be fine, at first. Renfri had left him with her friend Gina; Gina lived in Oxenfurt; and he kept living with Gina; so it was easy to badger the Academy into accepting him when his interests turned to poetry. (He ignored the pang he felt at the memory of his last promise to his mother.)

Since then...well, he was just glad Gina was an innkeeper and had seen every trick in the book for getting food, some less underhanded than others. He stuffed the bread into his pants - he wasn’t likely to be able to eat here in peace, not with everyone...

Jaskier’s eyes caught on the corner and narrowed. Not everyone. He’d thrown neither bread nor coin. Strange - even people nominally without opinions usually got caught up in the energy of a room. He hopped to his feet, grabbed an ale, and crossed the room. He’d expected it to be a little harder to wheedle a review from the stranger, considering he claimed he was there to drink alone, but he came right out with his opinion once Jaskier sat down across from him. Now Jaskier got a good look at the whole of him, though, besides that stand-out hair. His eyes were golden.

“White hair....big, old loner. Two very -“ Jaskier’s words caught in his throat. The hilt that peeked just barely out of the [bag (technical term?)]. He couldn’t look away from it. “Very,” he managed to find his voice before it could be suspicious. “Scary-looking swords. I know who you are.”

Geralt stood. [second instinct>] STDismay filled Jaskier. That was his mother’s brooch. Seeing it made his heart ache, and he wanted a piece of her - any piece of her - back. He tried to stop him by drawing attention, but it only landed Geralt a job. Well. A job would keep him in Posada long enough to talk, wouldn’t it? So he followed, letting his mouth run wherever it would. He surprised himself a little with the optimism in “death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak”.ST

[first instinct>] Jaskier nearly saw red. The Witcher didn’t get to just walk away with his murdered mother’s brooch. Drawing attention to Geralt didn’t work quite as well as he’d hoped, instead landing him a job. Jaskier hurried after him, not wanting to give him any chance of escape. He let his mouth run as it would, taking a kernel of malicious glee in pointing out the onion scent. Geralt either had a very good poker face or quite thick skin, or both. He surprised himself with the optimistic tone in “death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak”. After all, Geralt had already brought him two of those things directly.

“Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the - the Butcher of Blaviken.” He relished the taste of the title in his mouth. The way it hung in the air was viscerally satisfying. He shouldn’t have gotten caught up in it. It made the fist seem like it came out of nowhere. 

He couldn’t catch his breath back. He’d had the wind knocked out of him once before, falling out of a tree. It had seemed like it had taken hours for Renfri to come to him and hold his hand. It was probably barely minutes, if that. The panic stretched time. Long enough for him to remember his promise to Renfri and break his own heart. He’d nearly broken his promise. Over a piece of jewelry - a sentimental improvised weapon, but far from as useful as the daggers he hid on his person. 

When he could breathe again, he straightened to find Geralt hadn’t moved far. He seemed to be checking the horse’s reigns, but coincidentally finished just as Jaskier straightened up. Well. That was almost cute. Jaskier dug claws right into a tender title, and Geralt waited to make sure he hadn’t done permanent damage. He suppressed a smile. 

“You really do pack a wallop!” He crowed. He regretted it a little, his stomach still aching. “What’s this going to take, two minutes?”

Geralt ignored him, mounting Roach. Jaskier hurried to keep up, still talking.

*****

As he talked, Jaskier realized his mother would’ve disapproved. Home wrecking wasn’t puppy-murder, but it was still something Stregobor might use should he ever find out Julian de Lettenhove was connected to the Black Sun. But there was nothing to be done about it, now. It didn’t technically break his promise, and it did too many wondrous things for his mental health to simply go without.

Jaskier was tired of this semantic argument, and they’d only had it twice before. The first time Jaskier had called Geralt a friend, and the first time he’d called him his best friend. He was all too happy to turn the conversation back to the night’s contract, and years of living at an inn had him snatching away Geralt’s ale with barely a thought. There was work to be done, and drink made everyone slow, even Witchers. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jaskier dismissed, setting the ale gently on the dresser. “You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time.” You got involved in Stegobor’s petty squabble. You killed my mother. But that would bring the mood down and might give Geralt the wrong idea. Real friendship had taken two years for Jaskier to admit to himself, and sometimes hurt still festered, but hate? It had all but vanished at Dol Blathana, listening to Geralt bargain for his life. Listening to him reason with the elves, Jaskier suspected he got a peek into his mother’s last few days. He had to stop thinking about it. He pulled a joke out of his ass and let the conversation carry itself. 

*

He had proven, via scorned lovers past, that he had a resistance to magic. It didn’t skirt away from him, not completely. But it was often less severe. However, a shockwave was a shockwave was a shockwave. 

***

A djinn was not a shockwave. And he thanked his mother, and Melitele - even Lillit for that. Because he could feel the djinn on the edge of his senses. Drowned, trapped, shaken, fought over: tired and hellishly angry. He should’ve dropped dead, his throat burst open. But no. There was the taste of copper in his mouth and he could hardly force air in and out, but he was alive. Barely. Because the djinn had underestimated the force it would need. As his head began to spin and he clutched desperately at Geralt, his mind took a few funny turns. Renfri would be disappointed in the wish about Valdo. Not against the letter of the promise, but the spirit - Stregobor could definitely use murder-by-djinn against him. Would Renfri think it was funny if he died in Geralt’s arms, when she had met her end at his hands? And make no mistake, he was dying despite the djinn’s miscalculation: that was Roach’s back. Even after a decade, he still didn’t get to ride Roach unless he broke a leg miles outside town. 

**

[Yenn POV of Jaskier definitely dying and coming back to life; deciding to make it her little secret???]

**

It was a spring snow, and Jaskier wasn’t dressed for it. He was pleasantly surprised when the puppy eyes he gave Geralt got a non-frowning eye roll. That was about as good as an exasperated laugh from Gina. Shortly afterward, Geralt had found a safe-ish cave, and Jaskier helped him to set up the campfire. Usually Geralt didn’t resort to an Igni to start a fire unless they were both running low on coin for supplies - better to have all his energy at his disposal if something came across them in the night. But the kindling was damp, and Jaskier was shivering. After the fire, Geralt rummaged around on Roach for a moment before producing a blanket to drape around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier smiled at him. 

For a while, there was only the sound of the whetstone as Jaskier warmed up. Once he felt a little better, though, out came Filavandrel’s lute. It had become something of a game over the years, to try to make Geralt’s sword-sharpening his metronome. He plucked mindlessly in time to the sound, his eyes only half-focused. Renfri’s brooch caught the light as Geralt worked. Jaskier didn’t even realize what he was playing until Geralt stopped, looking downright alarmed. Well, for him.

“Are you hurt?” Geralt demanded. Jaskier frowned at him. The change in his face meant he felt the tear tracks. Then, he realized what he’d been playing. He clamped his fingers down on the fret board, strangling the notes. 

“Fuck. No.” Jaskier wiped roughly at his face. “I...didn’t think I still knew that.” He focused on his instrument.

“Do you...not want to talk about it?” He supposed it made sense for Geralt to be unsettled - he did usually tell Geralt about all his woes. He’d just kept him away from the serious ones, the old ones, so far.

Jaskier swallowed. He unfolded his hand and slowly began to play again. “Little Viscount Dandelion,” he sang. “It’s time to rest your head. Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to eat your bread.” He hummed a little. “Little lord, oh little lord.” More humming. “Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to comb your hair. Little Viscount Dandelion, it’s time to cut through air.” It was five lines, at best. How was he crying again? Why couldn’t he go on? Renfri had stretched it out as he grew up. The first couplet had been easy. But as she’d wanted him to do more than go to sleep or to eat his dinner without a fuss, rhymes had gotten harder. He’d helped her rhyme them, and she would sing it while he laid down to sleep, or while she combed his hair. Sometimes she would teach him to fight to it. “‘S just a silly kids’ song.” Jaskier said thickly.

“Nothing silly about something that makes you think.” Geralt looked down at his sword, his thumb skimming across the edge of Renfri’s brooch. Jaskier couldn’t stop staring at it now. Geralt must have caught his line of sight. “Even you’ll think less of me if I tell you where this came from.”

“No, I won’t.” He didn’t mean for his voice to be so low, so mournful. And the sincerity had to be confusing. 

“I killed the woman it belonged to.”

“In Blaviken?” He was relieved it sounded like a guess. Geralt grunted in grave affirmation. 

“It’s from Creyden, I gathered,” Geralt continued. 

“Princess Renfri’s.” Please, just let his voice not sound funny to Geralt.

“Not a Princess after what Stregobor[‘s meddling got her stepmother (to do)]did to her.”

“I imagine not,” Jaskier murmured. His hands clenched around his lute. Sometimes he wished his mother hadn’t told him about the man who sired him. But she had never, not even once, held it against him. 

“You should sleep, Jaskier. It’s not going to clear up before tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he agreed in a whisper. He rolled out his bedroll and curled up as close to the fire as he dared. If he hummed Renfri’s song and cried himself to sleep, only Geralt and Roach could say so. 

***

[mountain? Or just...skip the mountain, cuz it’s overdone and I don’t imagine much changes]

***

ST Jaskier stopped suddenly. Ciri noticed first and tugged Geralt to a stop. Jaskier turned on his heel and retraced several of his steps, stopping in front of a pair of [idle gossipers(?)].

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.” He flashed them a quick grin so patently false that be even saw Geralt wince out of the corner of his eyes. “You said Gina of Oxenfurt’s in town?”

“Apparently she knew Jaskier before Toss A Coin. She keeps tryin-a find him, she said.”

“Right, right. Who did you say she’s with?”

“Ffffffrida,” the other one said slowly, far too drunk for so early in the afternoon. “Of Let-something.”

“Lettenhove?” 

“Hey, yeah!” They frowned then. “Did you need to talk to them?”

“Would help, yeah.”

“Right. They’re at the market,” the first one declared. The other frowned. 

“No. The [otjer place]”

Jaskier’s heart roared in his ears as they fought, and he charged out to go looking himself. Gina wouldn’t let just anyone use Lettenhove - she knew what it had meant to Renfri, the pretend city she’d given him because she could. Jaskier snarled as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he prepared for a fight. 

“Which one were you checking?”

“[place]

[Renfri back, bitches. I might prefer this pre-mountain tho idk. Best for Julian’s blood pressure if he finds her first instead s of Geralt finding her.] ST

*****

“Julian.” Jaskier froze. Then he nearly cursed himself out - there would be no denying after-the-fact that the name had anything to do with him. He stood there and clung to the strap of his lute, trying not to lose himself in swirling negativity. He turned, surprisingly controlled. He frowned at seeing it was Borsch. 

“I prefer Jaskier.” Well, at least his voice stayed even. He tried to settle himself, putting his arms at his sides. 

“Come with me, my boy. Didn’t you tell our companion you’d be getting the rest of the story?” His tone was complicated. He’d obviously noticed Jaskier had no intention of doing anything but going straight down the mountain, but there was a painful gentleness to his request. Jaskier followed just to shed the itch of vulnerability. He could hardly believe what he saw there [in the cave]. At least until he turned to speak to Borsch and fell flat on his arse with an undignified Yelp. Alright, then. Gold dragons. Rarest. That’s how he’d smiled like he knew better than a Witcher. 

ST“I sought out the Witcher for a number of reasons. The first being that I have, on occasion, insights into the course of destiny. The second being the way your songs painted him. Destiny showed me a number of paths. And I may have guessed at the wrong one, given the knowledge of what occurred in Blaviken. But I heard your songs, and destiny told me of you. I am relieved I let faith dictate my choice.”

[dialogue I don’t wanna deal with hammering out at work]

[Borsch revealing the Jack Harkness thing “there are some creatures on this Earth who are not slated to meet their makers even should they fall to tooth, claw, or blade.” Etc; mentioning Deidre as an “aunt”, maybe suggesting Eskel assumes she’s dead as well and maybe he should fix that; intro of idea that Renfri would call other girls of the black sun his aunts]ST

STBorch didn’t speak, letting Jaskier stare, his mouth flapping soundlessly. 

“You hired Geralt,” he eventually managed. 

“Yes.”

“For - protection?” He guessed, face screwing up in a sort of frustrated confusion. ST

“Fuck!” It felt good to swear. It made the loss, the anger, the confusion, and the heartbreak feel less intense. 

“The baby does have some understanding of the world, if you don’t mind.” Borch’s voice was terribly mild. Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut - he never was good at keeping it that way for long, though, not that Renfri or her men had ever minded. Gods, that was so long ago, now. 

“No one’s called me Julian in thirty years.”

ST“Will you keep your promise to your mother, even now?” Borch asked, softer than Jaskier would’ve believed possible. Jaskier sighed, curling in on himself and covering his face.

“He would deserve it if I broke it.” His voice was dark and angry. A moment later, he curled deeper in on himself. “No, he doesn’t. That bastard.”ST

“With all that’s happened today, I think it is safest if you know something in advance, Viscount Pankratz.” Jaskier looked up furtively, trying to make sure no one heard. When nothing stirred, he fixed his gaze on Borch. 

“There are some individuals in this world who are destined not to meet their makers until a god is satisfied with their work here. Wounds that should end them will not stick; substances that shouldn’t be inside them will be expelled one way or another; some days they will wake up and find that wrinkles they had the day before have retreated.” Borch looked at him. Jaskier frowned, a crease forming in his brow. “Many of Lilit’s chosen fall into that category.” The words settled slowly into his mind, his frown deepening. 

“Not all of them?”

“Not all. But - some. Including your mother.” Jaskier’s breath hitched. Borch fell silent. It felt like Jaskier’s mind was racing, but he couldn’t have articulated one single thought on his mind. He scrambled to his feet.

“I have to -“ Where before he’d felt lost, his tether of twenty years cut, now he had new purpose. “Thank you. Sorry.”

“You’re very welcome. Take care, Jaskier.”

Jaskier babbled another goodbye as he raced to start back down the mountain. 

***

[thing from receipt in work jacket pocket about Valdo discovering Gina isn’t Jaskier’s mother.]

“It’s what bards did at the Academy, make fun of each other,” Marx claimed. “It’s all in good fun, picking at your opponent’s mother. Nobody means what they say.” Geralt stated dubiously at Valdo Marx. Were students really that stupid? “We were at the inn - fairly traditional setting. Everyone knew it was where Jaskier was from, too. The regulars all knew him; Gina roped him into chores on the weekend. I was up first. I’d cultivated my set carefully. Nothing that might actually hurt Gina’s feelings.”

“But you were wrong,” Geralt rumbled. Otherwise, there’d be no story to tell - he’d learned that much from Jaskier. 

“Found out when he put a dagger to my throat, and I was the one Gina kicked out over it. Gave me a lifetime ban, but... did me the courtesy of explaining, a few years back. It hadn’t been all that long, in the grand scheme. His mother had gone traveling and never made it back. It was a mistake,” Valdo insisted. “One anyone could make. Glad, in hindsight, that it was me, even if he still holds it against me.”

****

[Deidre and Jaskier meeting]

***

Vesemir was tucked into a shadow on the battlements. He was glad he’d been in the courtyard; inside, the stone might’ve blocked their voices. But he’d been hearing them for a while now, giggly and serious in turns.

“Whose idea was this? All this trouble and they’re not even likely to be home.” The man’s voice had turned from giggles to complaints the closer they drew. 

“Mm. Yes. Terrible idea.” The woman sounded terribly amused. 

“Fuck you.” His voice was light. 

“Language!”

“Oh, fuck off!” He laughed.

“I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. It’s my right as an ‘aunt’.” Laughter, a pause. “How often were you mistaken for siblings?”

“Usually as soon as I opened my mouth and called her by her name instead of, y’know, Mum.”

“Figures.”

“Oh!” The man said after a beat of silence.  “Oh, towers! Oh, thank fuck, this mountain is too damn tall.”

[more break in]

They were rather a motley pair as they stood before Vesemir. [Deidre] and the brightly-dressed man who was probably a bard, to be carrying his lute this far. 

“Well, you see - sir,” the bard amended. Then he stopped. Frowned. “Where do I even start?”

“Your mother?”

“Bad decision.” He shook his head at her. “Too much, too fast.” He paused again. “Well.... A dragon told me to find my Mum because she didn’t stay dead. But it’s been thirty years and I didn’t know where to look. Ran into Deidre first. Mum always talked about other Black Sun princesses as sisters. I was interested. She heard me out. Have to say, the ‘Witcher’s child surprise’ thing gave me a headache. But when she told me it was a Wolf, well - I knew generally where Kaer Morhen is, and we thought it would be funny if we. Um. Dropped in. Especially since it’s Summer so the consequences are minimal.”

This bard knew too damn much. “Are you Jaskier, then?”

“Ah. I hoped it wasn’t quite so obvious.” Suddenly, tentative hope bloomed behind his eyes. “You’ve heard of me?”

[All Geralt talks about. Other princesses? ~~ Ah yes well no easy way to say this mine is one too. It’s Renfri. No, Geralt doesn’t know. About any of this. And please don’t tell him! well, you’re actually supposed to tell them all Deidre and her nephew came by, to make Eskel sweat, but - hand wring - don’t connect Jaskier and Julian in their heads, if you can avoid it?]

*****

Jaskier had a hand pressed to Roach’s neck as they walked. It was both easier and harder going this way than breaking in. He liked the directness of it, but he hated the cold. Ciri shifted on Roach and leaned down a little to fuss with the cloak Geralt had made him wear.

[Vesemir has found Renfri; reunions, identity confessions, etc...]

***

[hm. To mention all the ammo Stregobor could potentially have against him and then not having a Stregobor plot is about as distracting as an unused rifle on the wall.]

[rainandhotchocolate]

Blackout - Part 10

A/N WHEW PART 10 we are 20k deep in this fic friends what a wild ride. This one is a bit intense sorry - but the next one will be fluff city promise ;) Enjoy!!

 (Last section of part 9)

“Again?” Y/N watched her sip some coffee and smile awkwardly at her. “Lily… was I at this job before I went to hospital?”

 ~~~~~~

Part 10

“No, you weren’t.” Lily grimaced as she replied, staring up at her awkwardly. Y/N felt something click into place in her head, the emotion that had been swirling around her, the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“For how long.”

“Six months.”

“SIX MONTHS?” Y/N yelped, “I haven’t been at this job for over half a year? Why did they even take me back?”

“The healers told us it would be best to keep you doing what you remember doing before the attack, so we reached out and they said it would be fine.”

“Did you know why I quit last time?”

“Yes… but I wanted you-“

“To get there myself yeah, yeah,” Y/N huffed, “So you’ve been watching me have a shit time at work every day, knowing that I had already realised this and left months ago.”

“Well that makes it seem harsher than our thought process.”

“You keep saying our.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at Lily who was now looking a bit sheepish. Good.

“Well, James, myself, the boys, Marlene-“

“What you’ve been having fun secret chats about me?”

“Y/N this isn’t some secret club where we talk about you, we were- are trying to let you heal properly, and if that meant reliving some things then that was what we were going to do.”

Y/N pressed a finger to her temple, trying to relax the headache that had been building over the last few hours. Or probably days. She took in a deep breath and looked around the room, thanking Merlin that it was late in the day and the area surrounding the little café was almost empty.

“I know, this is just very overwhelming.”

“Are you ok?” Lily leaned forward and placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s just a headache, the healers said this is common in the weeks after an injury.” Y/N winced as a throbbing pain reached her temples again.

“Maybe I should take you home?”

Y/N nodded, grimacing as the pain became worse, moving down into her neck.

“Come on, I’ll send a note up to your office as we leave.”

Lily helped Y/N up and led her towards the elevator.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius had only felt helpless a few times in his life. The first was when his mother taught Regulus and himself how to use the crutiatus curse and then practice on each other. The second was when he saw his mother’s eyes, black as the night, staring daggers at him when he came home for the Christmas in his fifth year and stuck posters of Muggle girls and Gryffindor merchandise across the walls of his bedroom, cursing them to stay up forever. This was the third.

“So, we’ve found our favourite member of the Black household, or perhaps we can’t call you that anymore?”

The voice of Lucius Malfoy hissed in his ear, making him growl. He hated that it still stung, the burn that he was sure sat in his parents drawing room where Sirius’s face was meant to be.

“I didn’t know I was your favourite, Malfoy, I would have dressed up more to see you,” Sirius crooned in return, trying not to wince as he pulled back a chunk of his hair and dragged him backwards into the room Sirius and Marlene had just been leaning against.

“Now, do you want to tell us what you two are doing here, or would you rather we get it out of you ourselves. Both ways work for us.”

“You keep saying us,” Sirius tried to keep his voice light, but found he was struggling to stand upright and edge away from Lucius as he kept a tight grip on his hair. “Who is the other lovely death eater addressing us tonight.”

“That would be me,” a slimy voice crawled out from the edge of the room and Sirius felt his blood coil. Snivellus.

“Ahh Snivellus, pity that’s the case isn’t it, Marls,” Sirius tried to shake his head in mock sadness but let out a cry of pain as Lucius kicked out his legs and kept his hands wrapped around his hair so it felt like they were coming out of his roots.

“Couldn’t agree more, Sirius,” Marlene called from the other side of the room and Sirius felt his heart lighten slightly at her voice. At least we weren’t killed on sight.

“And why’s that?” Severus growled at them, walking closer to Sirius so he could see his face in the soft moonlight, holding Marlene with a wand at her throat.

“Cause we were really hoping to catch someone important tonight.” Sirius sighed loudly and winked at Marlene who grinned. She mouthed Now.

Quickly, Marlene had elbowed Snape in the ribs and ducked out of his wands range rolling out of sight to presumably get her wand. Simultaneously, Sirius twisted under himself, letting his hair twist into a ponytail in Lucius’s hand and kicked towards him, hard. He landed right between the legs and grinned to himself as he snatched Lucius wand and pointed it towards Snape.

“Step the fuck away from her.” Sirius snarled towards Snape who was circling Marlene like a hawk, one hand pressed hard on her hand that was outstretched towards her wand.

“Or you’ll do what? Don’t have James to save you now do you.” Snape turned to look at him and smile as he pressed down and dug his foot into her hand. Marlene let out a blood curdling scream that echoed around the room. Before he could even think, Sirius had yelled out a curse he thought he’d never use on another living soul.

“Crucio!”

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

Lily and Y/N reached the Potter’s in record time, though Y/N wasn’t sure if she might have begun to drop in and out of consciousness as Lily apparated her in sections across different towns.

“James open up, it’s me!”

“What do I call you when we’re alone.”

“Christ almighty, Lilypad, now let us in!”

“Us?” James echoed as he unlocked the door and Lily powered through past him and into the living room with Y/N chuckling beside her.

“Good to know you have your sense of humour.” Lily rolled her eyes and got Y/N comfortable on the couch, “James, can you call St Mungos?”

“St Mungos? What’s going on?” James followed them into the living room and sat next to the fire, grabbing some floo and yelling “St Mungos!”

“This is St Mungos for magical ailments and injuries, what can we help with today.” A false sounding voice came from the fire.

“Y/N Y/L/N, previous patient, going through – Lily you haven’t told me what’s happening yet?”

“She’s getting headaches and keeps fainting, has been coming on over a few days.”

“Please wait a few moments,” the voice called again, “Your concerns are of utmost importance to us.”

“Lovely,” Lily grumbled, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just need to get some rest, they said this would happen sometimes.” Y/N murmured, closing her eyes as she lay back on the couch. It felt like there were flashing lights pulsating into her brain, thrumming on her veins. She just wanted to fall asleep for a week.

A new voice came from the fireplace, a male one, familiar sounding.

“Whilst this is definitely commonplace for anyone who has gone through bodily trauma, we want to keep a close eye on it all the same.”

“Is there anything we can do?” James was quieter this time, as if she couldn’t hear him as he sat a metre away.

“She should rest, not do anything strenuous, drink lots of water – honestly there’s not much more to do than that, unless you have some numbing potions for the pain. If it lasts longer than a few days, and if any fever or more intense symptoms come up then send word again.”

“Ok, thanks.”

The light dimmed in the room and Y/N presumed that the face had disappeared from the fireplace. There was a few moments of silence before Lily and James spoke. They were likely having a conversation with expressions only to avoid scaring her. The pain had eased with her eyes shut, but she was still getting painful throbs across her neck and temple, and there was light bursting behind her eyes in pulses.

“I don’t know whats going on there, but it sounds like I won’t die, and I would really love one of those pain destroying potion whatevers,” Y/N mumbled, her voice soft from the effort.

“Yeah of course, I’ll bring you upstairs, Lil can you get the –“

“Yep, on it.”

Y/N felt arms wrap around her and then suddenly pull her upwards, carrying her presumably up towards the guest bedroom. She felt like sinking downwards into his arms until she was asleep, but the pain kept bringing her back up to the surface.

Eventually James lay her on her bed, pulled off her shoes and pulled up the blankets so they were covering her properly. Soft padding heading towards her bed indicated that Lily had followed them up.

“Here, sit up for a second,” Lily helped Y/N pull herself up and began pouring things into her throat. Y/N coughed at the coldness of the potion trickling down, but it quickly began to numb most of her body and she felt heavy and tired… so tired…

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Sirius hissed, pain coursing through every vein, every muscle, every tiny particle that could have made up his body. He’d long since trained himself not to react, but he was sure his eyes were betraying him, bulging out and searching for Marlene who he heard scream moments before, but it was fading away as if they were dragging her somewhere else. Get the fuck up, now, do it, NOW.

He felt the pain ease slightly as whoever was casting took a moment before casting again and he took it, using every inch of strength he had left in his body. It felt like he was made of water, each limb reforming into flesh and bone as he pulled out his wand and cast across the room. Flames burst from each corner of the room, the pain easing almost completely as it did, the caster yelling loudly across from him. Sirius swung around to where he heard the noise, spotting Snape and flicking his wand towards him.

Snape was momentarily caught off guard but dodged out of the way and threw a spell back at him.

“Protego!” Sirius gasped, his feet slipping against the carpet as he edged towards the door and away from the fire.

“Don’t think you can get away from me so easily,” Snape growled at him, his eyes dark and menacing.

“If there’s anything in this life I’m counting on it’s being able to easily dodge you.” Sirius winked at him and threw a large stone like object into the room. Snape stepped back quickly, his arm outstretched – and then there was darkness, the room covered almost entirely in black dust. Sirius moved quickly, sprinting towards the door and sliding through it before Snape had a chance to fire off a spell in his direction.

He kept running down the hallway, listening closely for voices before he heard the snarl of Marlene’s voice behind him and he skidded to a stop and smashed into the door he could hear her from.

Lucius turned around quickly, glaring dangerously at Sirius but he shot a spell towards him instantly. Lucius blocked it with ease, but it gave Marlene the second’s distraction she needed to slide forwards off her chair and slam her feet into the backs of Lucius’s knees. He fell forwards and Sirius bounded over to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the nearest window.

“Ever done a moving apparition before?” Sirius said, unlatching the window and opening it.

“I’m always ready to try new things.” Marlene grimaced.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They jumped from the window, Sirius closing his eyes and spinning as fast as he could as he thought of home. Of being with Y/N.

Taglist:

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[itsdingdong]

Define Us - pjm

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: smut, angst, roommate au, slice of life, some fluff

Warnings: explicit language, smut

Word count:3792

18+

Synopsis: The day you enroll the university Jungkook is there to help you. When you have difficulties with the place you move in, Jungkook asks if you’d like to be his and his friend, Jimin’s roommate. The tension between you two is undeniable but you’re not certain of your feelings. How will things turn out with Jimin after a night out?

⌜Hope you’ll enjoy…💜⌟

You’ve met Jungkook on the day you enrolled to the university. He was in charge of helping the newcomers. There was a document missing and he was signed to help you. It was the last day of the enrollments and the guy that was supposed to be renting you the house you were going to move in turned out a fraud. That was the reason you got there the last minute. You found a place but it was too expensive and located way too far away from the school.

Having to spend the half of the day running here and there for signatures, you’ve become familiar with one another. After the term began, he would always call you over during breaks and you’d join him and his friends. You were so grateful that your breaks coincided with the only person you knew there.

Eventually you two ended up becoming good friends. One day, he was appalled to see your puffy red eyes as he was leaving the school. You ended up explaining him that you were having problems with your place. Right away he told you that him and his roommate were looking for a roommate and asked you if you’d like to move in with them. You didn’t take the offer right away since it’d be relatively odd to stay in a boys, let alone a person you’ve never met in person’s house but you finally gave in and decided to give it a shot.

 The highly anticipated weekend was finally here after an exhausting week. You going from place to place for job interviews to be able to pay the rent for Jungkook’s place which you now shared with his other friend Jimin.

With Jimin things were different. You were here now for almost 2 months and you got along very well. There was a chemistry. You couldn’t quite tell if it was a romantic or more of a sexual one, either way whenever he was around, your body somehow reacted to him.

It wasn’t obvious whether if he liked you or just wanted to fuck your brains out. On the other hand the attraction you felt towards him was something tad different than just lust. You wouldn’t hate going into bed with him but it was really likely for you to feel hurt afterwards to act as if nothing had happened. You guess you actually really did like him.

 It has been two weeks since you started looking up for a job and you finally landed in one. Part-time but enough to pay for your part of the rent. You were in front of the condo waiting for boys to let you in.  “What’s the password?” You could feel Jungkook smiling now through entry phone.

 “Let me in.”

 “Oh wrong address.”

 “I’ll be going then.” You pretend to leave and he chuckled and granted the entrance. You slowly made your way up.

“Come on in.”

You open the door and let yourself in.

 “Boys?”

 Jungkook and Jimin were both sat on the couch looking intently at the phone in Jungkook hands.

“You received a dick pick? Congrats!” You cooed at Jungkook as you closed the door behind you.

“You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?” Commented Jimin as he smirked at you. You smiled and shook your head disapprovingly as you start untying your shoes. “Fuck off.”

Jimin chuckled and motioned you hello with his free hand while Jungkook was still scrolling through something. “Hey.” You mouthed back. You went to your room to drop off your stuff and went back to the living room just before they stood up.

“Hey boys. How has your day been?”

 “Not bad really. How about yourself?” Jungkook spoke as poured himself some water from the counter.

 “Tiring but now I have a job!” You said shrugging.

 “Oh congratulations!”

 “Thank you. Thank you.”

 You did a little dance and took a bow.

 “How about we go out to celebrate? And this way you won’t be able to have an excuse.” You asked and looked at him expectantly. Jungkook stopped and thought quickly before nodding.

 “Why not? You coming too Jimin.” He nudged him.

 “Can’t let two ladies go out by themselves.” Jimin joked and came to you put his elbow on your shoulder and leaned on you. This made your heart skip a beat but you remained cool.

“Pfft. True.” Scoffed Jungkook. “Let me see if the boys will tag along.” And he left the room leaving you and Jimin alone. He moved away from you without breaking the eye contact. “Let’s have some fun tonight.”

 It took you approximately an hour to leave. Despite the common belief, boys took longer to get ready, defying the odds. Boys were going to meet you at the club.

As you were headed there you caught his eyes on you multiple times. The night was going to be interesting. Maybe tonight was going to be the one to define you. What you were to one another.

The boys were already here, encircling a table in the back of the club. Typical night out for them, or just whenever they were together it was all laughter and jokes, pretty much enjoying themselves no matter what. Jimin offered his arm to support you in your heels as you got to where the guys were.

“Finally! I was going to call the cops.”

“I swear this isn’t on me this time.” You put your hands up laughing.

“Well you look great love.” Hoseok complimented.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him humbly.

“The night has only begun, keep the flirting for later on.” Spoke Jin out of nowhere, making everything go absolutely awkward.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably next to you. “I’ll get the drinks. Jungkook, soju yeah?” Jungkook was in the middle of a saying something before briefly nodding at Jimin he went back to talking to Taehyung. “I’ll have a-” Your sentence was cut right in the middle because he already was headed to the bar. “Cheongju?” You stare after him slightly stupefied.

You stood there waiting for him to comeback as the guys were long gone into a conversation about God knew what. You felt like you’ve done something like you were responsible for his odd behavior but the thing was that there was nothing to be acting the way he did. A sigh escaped your lips catching Namjoon’s attention.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Just a little tired.”

“Oh come on the night haven’t even started yet.” He was right you’ve been here for only 15 minutes and here you were being a Debbie Downer for no reason. “Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled at him, trying to lighten up your mood. A moment later Jimin joined you with two beers and a Cheongju in his hands. Handed Jungkook his beer and you, your drink. “Thanks.” He looked away as he took a sip from his beer. This was starting to get on your nerves. Why was he acting like this? What was the point?

After two drinks you were starting to feel them oozing into your mind and weakening your mind and body. Your limit was 3, beyond that was blackout. It had the effect of a 3 on you. This drink was already strong as it was but since your stupid ass decided it was okay to do shots when they weren’t even half way empty, you were somewhere in between drunk and tipsy at this point.

The rhythm was bringing your hidden careless self out. Along with the drink as well. As you were dancing it felt like nothing mattered. You felt sexy. Shortly after showing off some of your dance moves you stole off of some stuff you’ve watched online, you were pulled in for a dance off with Hoseok. You were going from competing to dancing together and so on. Mixture of cheers and laughter erupted between you as you enjoyed each other’s company.

Your mind wandered off to Jimin for a second. Wondered what he was up to during all the dancing. You knew he wasn’t particularly a dancer unless he was truly drunk. You tried to find him in the club as the lights danced on the zombie like bodies that were dancing off tempo to the beat.

At first your eyes missed him but the second time you saw him the picture finally sank in. There was a girl. Dancing on him. Literally she was on him grinding and was holding onto him as if her dear life was depended on this. This girl was all over him. She attempted to kiss him but he didn’t let her. That very moment his eyes met yours.

This wasn’t right. Your chest filled up with pain. What was this? Jealousy? You diverted your gaze and attempted to focus on the sweaty bodies away from where he was stood. “At least someone is enjoying themselves.” Stated Jungkook coming up to you with a bottle of soju in his hand, pointing at Jimin. “Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked attempting to shrug off the stabbing pain in your chest. “Yeah. You?”

“Well, I will.” You smirk as a not so smart but good enough for an intoxicated state of mind kind of an idea came to your mind. You let your body loosen up and leave yourself into the hands of the music. Your hips started to sway to the beat, earning a cheer from Jungkook before him going back to where the other lads were. Your hands go up and down on your torso as you give a quick suggestive glance at Jimin. He wasn’t looking. You ignored and continued the process. Just before you were about to hit the ground you felt someone’s hand on your arm.

“Mind if I join you?” Asked a stranger. His breath smelled of gin and cigarettes. He wasn’t going to remember tonight. Heck like you were. “Please.” You turned your back to him and kept swaying your ass. The dress slightly going up with every courageous move you make. You did make a daring fashion choice but the person you made it for was too busy with someone else.

As you kept dancing, more like grinding at this point the stranger started to get rougher with you. At first you let it be but slowly it was becoming aggravating. You were trying to get away from his arms without making it look like it but he pulled you even tighter and you felt a bulge poking your back, you truly hated everything. Hated yourself. Hated Jimin for making you doing stupid things like this. You hated Jimin because he drove you crazy and he chose that slut. You attempted to escape his grip one more time. This time you were being obvious. You didn’t want him or his stupid dick. You just wanted to leave.

“We’re not done yet sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?” He leaned for a kiss but you pushed his face away. “Let the girl go.” Jimin’s hand was on the guys shoulder in a threatening manner. The guy let go of you and raised his hands in surrender. Jimin’s physique must’ve intimidated him. Compared to Jimin, he in no shape to win a fight against him.

After the guy left our sight, it was you and Jimin. You staring anywhere but him. His eyes on nowhere but you. “I’m going home.” Your voice came out weak but you were surprised it did after all. You doubted he heard you in this loud place. You glanced at him before moving away from him. His facial expression told you that he was mad, fuming really but he wasn’t likely to show aggression. He wasn’t that kind of a person. Not because he was a softy or anything but because he was too chill for that jazz.

You managed to find your table then took your purse avoiding any possible eye contact from the boys then left. It only took you about 15-20 minutes to get home. You were already sober with the adrenaline. Way to ruin a night out. The heels were killing you by now so you took them off in the elevator and waited to reach our floor. With the beep sound, the elevator reached your floor and the doors opened. The feeling of familiarity was all you needed right now and as soon as you were a step away from the main door, your wish was granted.

The night was supposed to be great and yet here you were by yourself feeling worse than ever. If it weren’t for Jimin, you could’ve ended up in this guy’s house and God knows what would’ve happened then. You hated that you owed him that now. You gently put the key to the key hole, shortly after realizing it’s the wrong key. Just you were about to look for the next one someone grabbed you from the wrist and spun you over, pinned you to the door and forced a kiss on you. His cologne was familiar enough to knock you out of your senses. This wasn’t the familiarity you were asking for. Or was it? As much as you wanted to kiss him, more than anything in the world you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. It didn’t take him long to get that. He stepped away to look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Honestly? Everything.”

“Is it because of that guy?”

“Yes.” A big fat lie.

“Or is it the girl?” You rolled your eyes before kneeling down to get the keys.

“Why are you even here?” You spoke, your voice harsher than you intended it to be. You put the right key in this time and managed to open the door.

“I followed you.” He entered after you then closed the door behind him.

“Creepy.” You mock and put the keys on the key holder. You rush to your room that ironically happens to be right next to his. Just you were about to close the door he came in.

“You can’t deny what we have.” He leaned on the wall, blocking your way.

“What is it that we have?” You asked slowly losing your temper.

He took a step toward you, closing the distance. Just before he could you moved away from him.

“Look. Maybe we did have something. But now, it doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

Why did your chest hurt so badly?

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re not meant to be.”

“But we are. Look you’re the only one in my mind. Every minute, every fucking second.”

 “Bullshit.” You sat yourself down on your bed to take a breath. The argument was getting heated up and you didn’t want that, not that you didn’t want to argue with him but to give him that. He felt important but was he really that important?

“If you want to address to what happened tonight, it was all your fault.” He said coldly.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him offended, your voice raised slightly. He sighed and sat next to you.

“If you weren’t wagging your tail at Hoseok like that nothing would’ve happened. The girl. That jerk. This, right now.”

“I wagged my tail at Hoseok? He’s my friend! You should’ve known that by now. Your stupid misunderstanding led to this. It caused a chain reaction and now I feel more defeated than you I have.”

“How about we stop blaming each other and enjoy each other’s company? It’s just you and me at last.”

“Jimin I-“ you tried to protest. He cut you off by putting his thumb on your lip then moved it on your cheek as he intently watched you.

“I’m going to show you what it is that we have.” He leaned in and waited for you for a second to see whether if you liked it or not. You didn’t hate it but you were butt hurt and you wanted to rant but he was making it impossible. It was as impossible as resisting to him.

Once he made sure it was okay to kiss you, he slowly pecked you. Your heart fluttered with the warm feeling taking over your body. His eyes met yours briefly. There was hunger, lust and a little bit of innocence hidden. Was it perhaps love? You gulped on your thought right before he connected our lips for a longer kiss. You were no longer mad. You wanted him. You wanted him right there and then. You put your hands on each side of his cheeks deepening the kiss turning it into a full on make out session. He broke the kiss to look at you.

“Holy shit.”

You pulled him to continue from where you were left off only for him to pull back again. Disappointed in the loss of his soft lips on yours, you let out a grunt and gave him an annoyed look.

“If you won’t stop me now, you won’t be able to.”

“I don’t want you to.” You spoke as moving a stray hair out of his face, giving him a smile. His mouth dropped a little to say something. His face was redder than you could ever imagine him possible be. His lips once more found yours much more forcefully. With the impact of the kiss you were now lying on your bed. He easily turned you around and you were now on top. You could feel his growing member underneath you making you more aroused than you already were. His hand found the hem of your little dress, removing it with one swift move leaving you in your purposefully picked lacy underwear. He admired your body for a second and seemed pleased with the choice you’ve made.

“Mm. Somebody was prepared.” He grinned. You felt the blood rushing up to your cheeks so you leaned in for a kiss. You didn’t want him to see the affect he had on you.

“That’s cute.” He smiled in between the kiss. Well shit.

“Shit baby.” He spoke breathlessly as he admired your breasts and pulled you closer to him as he gently palmed them. You moved your hips a little to rub his manhood. A moan escaped his plump lips. Then you pushed him off with a smirk on your face before tugging on his shirt signaling for him to strip down.

“Your wish is my command.”

He quickly took off his shirt and his pants. You licked your lips and admired the view. He was like a Greek statue. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Like what you see huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” You smile and give him a kiss as you climb back on him. After giving one last peck on his lips you slowly started going down on his body. He exhaled loudly then tilted his head back. You kept leaving trails of sloppy kisses until you stop on his V-line just before you got to his manhood. You sucked on him little through the fabric of his boxers making him shiver with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down and took his member in your hand and stroked him up and down. He gave you a vulnerable look as you brought your lips closer to him; he gulped right before gave him a little peck. Then you started to lick him from his base to the tip of his shaft. You tease him by making delicate circles with your tongue on his tip before wrapping your lips around his member. His hands almost immediately found the back of your head and pushed you further down to your surprise. You gagged a little before readjusting yourself to take him deeper.

“Sorry.” He breathed chuckling. “Jesus.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes then gave his now rock hard member another kiss before taking him back in.

“Damn you’re good.”

You giggled then shrugged with a smug look on your face.

“Your turn now. I want to taste you baby.” He brought you back up and gently placed you on the mattress and kneeled down before the area you craved him the most. He teased your entrance with his tongue then swirled it around your clit. Every spot his lips touched was aching for his touch.

“So this is the affect I have on you?” He whispered turning you on more than you already were. You didn’t think that was even possible.

A moan escaped your arched lips causing him to smile with amusement and victory.

“I’m almost there.” You breathed heavily feeling the throbbing sensation taking over your lower abdomen.

“Wait for me baby.” He said before standing up, motioning you to scoot further so he could join you in the bed. He climbed on top of you then placed himself in between your legs. He rubbed his dick along your entrance teasing you mercilessly.

“Stop teasing.” You said through gritted teeth. He smirked at your hastiness and licked his lips as if you hadn’t suffered enough.

Hasty or not you couldn’t wait any longer so you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him to you startling him with your sudden action.

He collided his lips with yours as finally slid himself in. Your bodies became one. You pulled him closer with your arms leaving you chest to chest. His warmth on you sent an ecstatic feeling into each pore existing on your body. With each thrust you were again getting closer and closer to your climax this time to be able to let it go. He planted brief kisses now and then on your lips as he continued to penetrate you.

“I’m-.” You moaned and tensed around him before you could let him know your body was trembling with your climax.

His breathing increased and his thrusts became erratic indicating he was also close. He pulled out and jerked off and spilled himself all over your belly.

“You made a big mess big boy.” You teased playfully. He laughed and stood up to get a towel.

“Let’s take a shower instead.” You offered.

“One condition.” He jumped back on the back looking dead serious.

“Uh...yeah, okay what is it?”

“Be my girlfriend.” He spoke softly nuzzling into your neck leaving small traces of kisses here and there.

“Oh. OH. Well I thought it would be like a one night stand kind of a thing.” You pushed his face away.

His face fell almost immediately. He looked down and gulped and you truly felt bad at the sight. Yet it was definitely worth it.

“I’m just messing with you.” You smacked his arm and leaned in for a peck.

“You, are the worst.” He put his hand on his chest sighing in relief.

“Seriously though. Let’s get it done before Jungkook gets back.”

“After you girlfriend.”

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Scars

A/N: A lot of things with this. One, it roughly takes place in 2015/16? And we’re just gonna assume that tension in the team is low, that civil war isn’t on the horizon. Also, there’s quite a lot of Tony in this, if that’s something you don’t like. I’m also just going to place them in Avengers tower for convenience. I wanted to make a soulmate thing, and I like the idea of the shared scars one, but I needed to make it extra depressing, because I’m me I guess. Tattoos are sort of like scarring, so I just am counting that as something that also transfers. If you’re not comfortable with the warnings, do not read, please. 

Genre: Soulmate au, angst with a smidge of fluff

Warning: swearing, reference to self-harm and suicide attempt

Word count: 2600

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Everyone bears their soulmate’s scars, but you don’t have anyone else to share with. Except maybe this world is weird and maybe that’s not true. 

Masterlist

You were 10 when you realized you didn’t have a soulmate. You were taught early on, as scars started to appear on your classmates that they hadn’t received. Teachers explained the scars one day, that every time your soulmate was scarred, it would show up on your body. You were 10 when you looked at your body to see that every mark was your own. You were 10 when you realized that the universe had looked at you and deemed you unworthy of love. 

You were 13 when you realized you were depressed. Unlike the rest of your classmates, who had either already met their soulmate or had one to look forward to, you had spent 3 years with the knowledge that you had no one weighing down on you.

You were 15 when you cut the first time. You just wanted to feel something, and who would you be hurting, if there was no one to take on your marks. You hid that habit for 2 years before you took it further. Your parents found you bleeding out in your bathroom and rushed you to the emergency room. You didn’t try anything more after that. That’s not to say everything was immediately better, but you realized when you woke up in the hospital to your mother and father with tears running down your face, you realized that maybe you didn’t need a soulmate to be loved. 

You grew up a little, moved forward. You got a semicolon tattoo on your wrist over your scars, for yourself, to prove to yourself that you could continue. You got better, never completely free, but you were okay. 

You were 24 when a scar showed up on your side that wasn’t yours. You stood in front of the mirror that morning after your shower, staring at your reflection. You were completely incomprehensive and unmoving. There was no way you were over 20 years older than your soulmate, but what other explanation could there be for suddenly finding scars that had never been there before?

-- 

Steve Rogers woke up in a world that was completely alien to him. He was so disoriented by the world around him that it was nearly a month before he noticed the scars on his wrists that hadn’t been there when he had gone under. For a long time, he had no idea what had happened, but he was even more confused by the ink in his skin. He obviously knew what a semicolon was, but could not figure out why there was one on his wrist. 

He realized suddenly one night when looking at them that they weren’t his. He had grown up during the Depression, hadn’t had the liberty of caring so much about soulmates, but he knew enough when he was younger that he didn’t have a soulmate. Somehow, though, he had come out of the ice only to find out he did have one, they were just from a different time.

It wasn’t until over a year later, when things had calmed down, aliens weren’t coming from the sky, and he had a team he trusted, that he found out more about those scars. Apparently Tony had seen them in passing, and in a moment of un-Tony-like concern, he had pulled Steve aside to ask about it, if he was okay. When these questions were met with confusion on Steve’s end, Tony quickly figured out that they weren’t Steve’s own doing. Seeing that Tony’s confusion lessened, but his concern didn’t, Steve became worried. 

“I assumed they were from an accident, although I’ve always been confused about the tattoo.” Tony looked hesitant to explain what he had deduced, but finally caved.

“Those cuts are self-inflicted.” Steve didn’t even seem to process what that meant, but he gave Tony his full attention anyway. “Your soulmate got really low sometime in their life, and they took out all their feelings out on themselves. They found a razor or a knife and cut themselves to distract from whatever their mental pain was.” Steve’s heart broke as he looked at the lines on his arm, understanding suddenly that he was meant for someone who had been through a lot of darkness. 

“But what about the tattoo?” he asked, confused what punctuation had to do with any of this. 

“Well that’s the good news and bad news I guess. It means that she likely made an attempt on her life at some point. But that tattoo means she survived. In short, the tattoo is supposed to symbolize that the sentence of her life didn’t end, it just had a pause and continued on with a new part.” Steve was relieved to understand the tattoo, but was sure he had never felt so much pain for another person, especially one he didn’t know. 

Steve thought it over for a moment before looking to Tony in more confusion. “How do you know so much about this?” 

Tony looked like he had hoped Steve wouldn’t ask, but nevertheless, rolled his own sleeve up to show his battle scars. “These aren’t Peppers. It was a long time ago, and I’m fine.” Steve was barely placated but knew he could do nothing for his friend. He was grateful to see substantially less scars on the billionaires wrist, though. 

A very manly hug was exchanged before they parted ways.

Steve could think of nothing but the pain his soulmate must have gone through for the next month, and the thoughts followed him through the next few years. 

-- 

Fucking aliens. Again. Why is it always aliens?

You hadn’t been around for the battle of New York, but you know about it. Everyone knows about it. At the time, you didn’t live in the city, moving there a few years following because rent was pretty cheap in a place that had been nearly destroyed. You had found a job, made a few friends, and you were okay. 

And then aliens attacked again. 

This time wasn’t nearly as bad as the first one, barely even comparable. But it still interrupted your day. The only good that came from it was meeting Iron Man. He had managed to save you from the roof caving in, and he dropped you off safely a good distance from the fighting. Everything happened so fast, you barely even knew what happened, and it’s not like there was time to chit chat, so it wasn’t so much meeting Iron Man as seeing Iron Man. 

You were watching the news footage back, admiring the efficiency of the Avengers. There was a clip of Captain America taking a hit to the thigh. It was uncannily close to where your newest scar was, but hundreds of people had been involved in the attack, there was no way you were fated to a national legend. Evening if the timing seemed to make more sense than being bound to a literal child, you couldn’t find it in yourself to think you were worthy of an actual hero.

And then Tony Stark showed up at your door. He was dressed casually, no metal suit in sight. Of course you recognized him, but that didn’t help you figure out why he was at your apartment. Thankfully, he explained himself, even if the conversation had a pretty rocky start. 

You invited him inside, where he sat on your couch uninvited, so you sat in the chair across from him. 

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark.”

“Yeah I know.” You probably shouldn’t snark a superhero, but you had no idea what you should do. 

He simply smiled at you before very abruptly asking, “Do you have a soulmate?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re not my soulmate.”

“No, I’m not, but I might know who is. Unless you’ve figured it out?” He continued speaking when you didn’t respond. “I’m guessing you thought you didn’t have a soulmate until about 4 years ago.”

“How-?” you began, only to be cut off.

“I’ll get to that. But first, can I see your wrist?” You weren’t ashamed of your scars, per se, but that didn’t mean you wanted to flaunt them to strangers. After a moment, though, you realized you couldn’t exactly deny him, so you stretched out your arm. He gave you a grim but sympathetic smile. 

“Thought so. You see, I was reviewing my helmet’s footage from the other day when I noticed something interesting on your arm. You had a pattern of scars that I had seen before, though it was pretty blurry and the only damning evidence was that tattoo.” You cocked your head, but didn’t interrupt. “Do you know who Steve Rogers is?”

“Who doesn’t? I paid attention in history class, but forgive me if I need to brush up before I take an exam.” Your reply only seemed to entertain him. 

“Oh you’re perfect. Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, Steve Rogers came out of the ice a while ago. And he came out with scars on his wrist. At first, I thought they were his, only to realize they were from his soulmate.”

Your eyes widened at what he was clearly telling you. Your ears began to ring at the simple notion that you could be meant for a man who risked his life everyday to save people. He was worth ten of you, how could you be the one for him?

“I can’t be his soulmate.” Of that you were certain.

“Why not?” 

“He’s… Captain America, war hero, national treasure, and a super soldier to boot. I don’t know if anyone is worth him, but I know it’s not me.” You didn’t meet Tony’s eyes, not trying to play for pity. 

“You’re not actually wrong about that. He absolutely is all of those things, but he’s also a man lost in the wrong time, absolutely confused, a major dork, and such a mother hen it’s smothering. What I’m trying to say is that he’s just a guy, and I think he would love to meet you. Plus, I looked you up first, you’re not some failure. You’ve got some stuff under your belt, and I have to say I 100% approve of your sass, you’d be good for him.” You rolled your eyes at the last comment, but still had to think it all over a moment before you could meet his gaze.

“Steve Rogers is my soulmate?” you asked, disbelieving.

“Pretty sure, as long as the stories match up like they seem to. Would you like to come meet him?”

“Today?!” You had started your day with the intention of maybe doing some work at home and treating yourself to a bubble bath, not meeting your soulmate. 

“Doesn’t have to be today.” He pulled something from a pocket and handed it to you. A business card. “You give me a call when you’re ready, but don’t keep him waiting too long. I think you could really help him out.” You were quiet as you took it. He stood up and you walked him out without another word, trying to process what had just happened. 

Two hours later you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

--

Steve and Tony were sitting in a pleasant silence the next day when Tony spoke up.

 “I found your soulmate.” 

Steve’s head snapped up so fast it hurt his neck. “You what?”

“I found your soulmate. I went to meet them and gave my contact information. I didn’t want to force you to meet, so I left it up to them.”

“Who? Are they okay?” Steve was dying of curiosity. 

“Yeah, they’re doing fine. I actually found them during that mess the other day and caught their tattoo on footage. I won’t tell you who it is though. They seemed a little spooked as is, so they’ll come when they’re ready.”

Steve nodded, thoughts running a mile a minute at the possibility of meeting his soulmate soon, after all this time. 

--

Three days later, you called Tony. You were nervous, but you needed to meet him. Something inside of you seemed to know that you knew who he was, but weren’t with him. You could feel it like an ache in your chest that reminded you of how it felt to know you didn’t have a soulmate. 

Tony told you to come by the tower the next day. 

-- 

You had never been more nervous. Not when you were waiting for application answers, not waiting for job interviews. You felt ready to burst at your own nerves. You were directed to an elevator off to the side from the main one. You didn’t press any buttons as you were taken to a floor you didn’t even know the number of. As the doors opened, you walked into the room it had stopped at. Tony met you there with a smile before telling you to follow him. You were silent as you walked through the tower behind the genius, in awe of your surroundings. 

Finally, he stopped in what looked like a common area, with a big couch and a television. There was no one around, but he gestured for you to sit down before disappearing. Being left alone in such a foreign place nearly had your nerves shot to hell. You were jittery and nauseous and so scared. What if he saw what you always had? What if Tony was wrong?

You heard them before you saw them. They sounded like they were bickering as they walked through the halls. The talking stopped as soon as he saw you though. 

Seeing a random person in the tower that Tony seemed to be aware of and unconcerned by brought Steve to the only logical conclusion. He looked to Tony for confirmation, who only nodded before stepping away. 

The silence continued as you both simply looked at each other. He moved towards you slowly, sitting a spot away from you on the couch. 

You cleared your throat before breaking the quiet. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” You could think of nothing more to say.

“Steve Rogers.” You could see that his thoughts were moving as rapidly as yours, but he kept glancing in the direction of your wrists. Realizing what he was trying to figure out without asking, you let out a breath before lifting your sleeve to show him.

“I was in a bad place when I was younger. I thought the universe had doomed me to be alone and I thought that meant I wasn’t worth anything at all. And it got worse, but I’m okay now. I failed and realized people cared about me, and I’m fine.” He seemed to deflate in relief as you spoke, and it warmed you to realize that he had been worried about you even without actually knowing you. 

“I was pretty certain that I didn’t have a soulmate when I went under, and I was okay with that because I didn’t want to selfishly sacrifice myself only for it to affect someone else.” You smiled at him encouragingly.

It was slow and it was awkward, but you met your soulmate and you were ecstatic. 

--

Tony walked back towards the main room 15 minutes later to make sure they weren’t still sitting in silence. He couldn’t hold back his grin as he heard them speaking, Steve being teased incessantly and taking it like a champ. 

Tony felt like he had done some good. 

Because, yeah, it was a good thing.

[antique-traveler]

you’re gonna be here for it

read it on ao3

Five could feel the energy pulsing from his palms, through the gaps in his fingers as he curled his hands into tight fists. There was something distinctly exhilarating about telling Reginald off like that. Now he ran down whatever street it was he had jumped too (he was too excited to really care) and felt that familiar tug build up in his ribcage. He followed that tug, pulled it back, let it launch him forward to… spring, it looked like. Christ, he had done it! He balled up his hands, wrapped himself around the tug and jumped to winter. Twenty seconds ago he had been in an unusually warm November, now here he was, running down the street with gentle snowfall landing in his hair. He gaped at the world around him, let that energy build back up, followed it, and-

Jesus Christ. What happened? All around him were ruins. Crumbled buildings and decades-old scaffolding set ablaze, the sky scorched a dusty grey. Five stopped in his tracks. Instead of that breezy March he had just visited, or the biting chill of winter he ran through, the world he stood in now was dry and hot, completely devoid of life. He took a tentative step forward and felt a rustle under his shoe; a newspaper. April 1, 2019, the date read. Seventeen years, he had jumped. Seventeen years and it led him here.

He clenched his fists, searched around inside him for that energy, that tug that would get him home, but he found nothing. He felt sweat forming on his brow as he tensed himself, trying to find that blue glow that would save him, but there he stood, a normal, non-glowing thirteen-year-old in a wasteland.

He saw beside him a street sign. 36th and Wharf St. God, he knew where he was, he was only a few blocks from the Academy! He found his bearings and sprinted towards his home and prison, begging whoever would listen to let him find something, anything other than ruins.

Turned out no one was listening, though. Laying on top of the rubble was the iron gate bent into the shape of an umbrella. The Academy had been flattened, just like the rest of the world. Five felt his breathing quicken, panicking at the thought of losing his last chance to survive this… apocalypse.

“Vanya! Ben! Dad! Anyone!” He looked around the ruins of his home and saw no one.

Except for a hand. A hand sticking out under a crumbled stone pillar, bearing a tattoo on the forearm. He ran over to it, not caring if he tripped on rubble as he excavated the body from the debris. Finally, he could make out a face. It was gaunt, with a scraggly goatee and curly hair, black eyeliner smudged around the eyes. Klaus, Five thought. He looked up, and saw a foot across what used to be the foyer. Brown skin peeked out from beneath fitted jeans and black kitten heels. He clawed his way through the wreckage, and saw tight curls around a beautiful woman’s face. Allison. Next he found what he assumed to be Luther, judging by the blond hair and ridiculous muscles. Ben, Vanya, Dad, Pogo, Grace, all of them were nowhere to be found. Lying beneath a splintered oak door, though, was a stranger. The man had tightly shaved hair and a respectable goatee, and wore a ridiculous harness adorned with every manner of knife Five could think of. He grabbed the man’s left arm, rolled up the sleeve and… there it was.

It couldn’t be Vanya, her lips weren’t nearly as full as the body in front of him, and she certainly could never be as tall. He didn’t have the right skin tone to be Ben, so that left Carmen. Maybe that name wasn’t right anymore. Five sat back on his heels and looked at the body in front of him. He supposed it made sense, somehow. He and Carme- Two had never been close, but Five knew how much she (he?) always hated that uniform skirt, and the expectations to be a strong Hargreeves sister.

He lay a hand on Two’s face and felt his eyes start to sting. God, he had missed so much, and he had no way to get back.

~~~

Two weeks and a hell of a lot of coffee later and things were… normal, for the most part. Sure, Five’s body was 45 years younger than it had been a fortnight prior, but the important thing was that he had his family back. The Hargreeves had fallen into a strange sort of normalcy after saving the world and the timeline; for the most part, they all lived in the Academy again. Klaus had technically been homeless before this all started, Luther had lived on the goddamn moon, and Five was physically thirteen, so none of them had many options for living situations. Vanya wanted to distance herself from her past, and Diego had realized how truly shitty it was to live in the back room of a boxing gym, so that just left Allison to get her own apartment. She was adamant that she wanted to be with her siblings as much as possible, but the divorce court ruled she needed to have a stable living situation to have visitation with Claire.

And of course, Ben was gone. Five walked past his old bedroom on the way to the staircase leading to the foyer, and never could stop himself from peeking in. It was frozen in time the same way he was: forever a door into the life of a lonely seventeen-year-old trying to cope with an abusive father figure and his own inhumanity.

Five’s days had developed an oddly comforting schedule: wake up too early for a thirteen-year-old and too late for a 58-year-old, have coffee with Luther, spend the day reading or revelling in being with his family again, dinner with all his siblings, and in bed by 11:30. He knew that other people his age were either in seventh grade or halfway through a prostate exam, but he found solace in the Academy, especially now that dear old Dad was gone.

There was something he was yet to address, however: Diego.

Five only learned his name by reading Vanya’s (slanderous) book, and it took him far longer than he’d like to admit to stop calling him a ‘she’. He would be lying if he didn’t say he let himself mess up sometimes, allow himself to call Diego ‘Carmen’ again, just so he could pretend he was back in 2002, and everything was exactly the way he left it. Now, though, he didn’t have that luxury.

He had to face his shortcomings head-on whenever he asked Diego to pass the coffee pot, or he saw him walking shirtless from the bathroom after a shower with his newly flat chest on display for all to see. Five had to fight the urge to look away in shame, or to stare at his sister’s brother’s sharp jawline. He knew that whichever path he chose would only end in awkwardness and humiliation, so he decided to simply avoid Diego whenever possible. Sure, it wasn’t the most polite option, but at least he could escape whatever sappy, emotional conversation was in store if he slipped up while Diego was around.

If there was one thing that Five had learned in the last 45 years, though, it was that he couldn’t run away from his problems forever.

Going through puberty once already meant that Five knew that his pubescent body was about to start overloading his body with hormones, and he was incredibly prone to acne. It was a chore, but Five knew that unless he wanted to go through constant red itchiness for a second time, he had to commit to a steady skincare routine. Allison managed to get him some high-quality face wash and moisturizer and whatever-the-fuck-else through some brand deal she’d done on social media, so he spent fifteen minutes every morning and night rubbing different serums and elixirs into his face until he felt slimy and raw.

It was a Tuesday, if he recalled correctly, when It happened. He was doing his morning routine in one of the upstairs bathrooms, still in his pajamas (Klaus called them “old man pjs”, but Five thought they were too comfortable to care), when Diego walked in, bare-chested and stood in front of the mirror besides him. Just as Five looked up from applying his coconut-scented moisturizer, he saw Diego drag a razor across his cheek, making a clear line through the shaving cream covering his face and defining his goatee. Five hadn’t even had his morning coffee, and he was too tired to notice that he was staring at Diego’s reflection and curling his hands ever so slightly into fists.

Diego brought his hand down to rest on the counter tentatively, not breaking eye contact with his reflection. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

Five blinked and looked away, pretending to busy himself with packing up his ointments and creams. “Uh. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I, um…” Diego sighed and looked down at Five beside him, “it must be a lot.”

“I guess.” Five rocked on his heels, “Uh, when- when did you-”

“Come out?” Diego cut him off. “Couple years after you disappeared.”

“Ah. I see.”

“When you saw me, in the… you know, did you recognize me?”

Five sighed. What a question. “Not at first, no. You were wearing a shirt that covered your tattoo, I had no clue who you were. For a while after I figured it out, I just called you ‘Two’, but then I read your name in Vanya’s book, and…”

“Gotcha.”

Five knew that they would hit this roadblock whenever he imagined this conversation. They’d say the polite stuff, both want to address the uncomfortable muck that is their relationship as (new) brothers, but neither of them would know how to proceed. Five was too old and impatient to wait around for Diego to break the ice though, so he figured he might as well take the plunge.

“I’m an old man, Diego,” Five said, feeling his voice break embarrassingly, “I’m ashamed to say I’m a bit… uneducated. What with the apocalypse and all. Sorry if this comes off as rude, but I… I don’t think I understand completely what it is this all… is.” He gestured to Diego vaguely, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, that, uh, that makes sense.” Diego sighed and set his razor down on the counter, bracing his hands against the edge of the granite, face still half-covered in shaving cream. “So, I’m tra-transgender.” (It never gets easier saying that, Diego had thought to himself). “Didn’t really jive with the ‘woman’ thing, so I… did all this. Cost a lot of friends and a lot more money, but, you know, here we are.”

Five stared up at him, brow furrowed. “When? Uh, when did you go through with it all?”

Diego huffed, “Uh, changed my name legally in 2008, went on hormones 2012, and I’ve had these bad boys,” he looked down and patted his bare pecs, “since last year.”

Five stared up at his brother, really took him in. He was certainly more muscular than the last time they had seen each other, though Five wasn’t sure if it was Diego himself or the hormones he was on that was responsible for that. His shoulders had widened out a bit, his frame becoming more solid, more firm. Beneath his pecs ran two scars, perfectly straight, the skin only slightly puckered beneath Diego’s nipples. His face was much more angular and square, brows thicker and jaw more pronounced. He had shaved his hair down short again, once more revealing that scar that ran across his temple. And God, how could Five ignore that beard? It wasn’t long or particularly bushy, but it was thick and well-taken care of. Five absentmindedly remembered the moustache he had been so proud of two weeks ago.

Five furrowed his brow and looked around the sink, trying to find the right words to not come across as ignorant or rude. “How, um, did you know?”

Diego dragged the razor once more across his other cheek, scraping off stubble and shaving cream to leave a clean line between his skin and his goatee, “Took a while, to be honest. Dad didn’t really foster a very open-minded environment ‘round here, so I didn’t really know what it was. And then once I did figure it out I had to keep it to myself for a while. First person I told was Klaus, naturally, ‘cause of all his…” Diego gestured vaguely.

“Yeah.”

“I waited to tell everyone else, though. Kept coming up with excuses for why I shouldn’t, but they all found out eventually.”

Five hummed nondescriptly, leaning against the off-white tile wall beside him so he could face his brother. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, but he thought that Diego looked remarkably similar to the last time Five had seen him, back in 2002. That scar that ran through his left eyebrow was from crashing through a stained-glass window during a museum robbery in '98. He still kept his nails trimmed short, and had that same intense look in his eye as he had had all those years ago.

"You didn't answer my question,”Five said.

Diego wiped his face off with a towel and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"How did you know?" Five repeated.

Diego huffed. "Why do you care?"

"Because l missed it the first time!" Five didn't mean to raise his voice like that, but it felt like he came to that realization at the same time he said it. He feIt energy building up inside his fists, trembling with anger he didn’t know he had. “I missed it the first time, and I’m only now getting to meet my brother, alright?” He let out a shaky breath, ashamed at his outburst. He felt so small, so weak compared to his brother. Diego was strong and masculine and everything that Five was two weeks ago.

Diego stared at him and sighed. “Jesus, Five, I… I don’t know what to tell you. I fuckin’ hated myself, so I changed. Simple as that. I-” he swallowed and looked around the room, searching for the right words, “I needed to be a man. None of me was right. I had to do something about it.”

The air between them was thick and filled with words unsaid. Five felt like he could relate to Diego, in some strange way. Being a man, but not looking the part, being stuck in a body that wasn’t his own. Helet out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. God, he had been so naïve. He had thought that all he had to do was clench his fists tight, go back in time, save the world, and then he would be done. He could just exist with his family without any conflict. Boy, had he been wrong.

He had missed so much.

Five cleared his throat after staring into Diego’s eyes for probably way too long. “Right. Thank you for… answering my questions. Good talk, Diego.” Five made his way toward the door, but a hand on his chest stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You don’t have to miss anything else.” For all the shit he got for that intense look in his eyes, Diego really knew how to look soft when he needed to. He lowered his voice and knit his eyebrows together. “You’re gonna be here for the rest of it.”

Five swallowed, not tearing away from Diego’s gaze. “Mmm-hmm.”

“No, not ‘mmm-hmm.’ You’re gonna be here for it.” Diego placed a firm hand on Five’s shoulder and pulled him into his chest, arms wrapping solidly around Five’s tiny frame.

Five was stunned, frozen solid, confused by his older brother, who used to be his younger sister, towering over him, squeezing him so tightly he was almost claustrophobic. He simply let Diego hold onto him (and he would never admit that he brought his own arms around Diego’s waist). If he was being honest, he didn’t believe Diego when he said that. Five was so used to missing his family’s lives he was sure that the pattern would only continue. But here, standing in the bathroom, smelling freshly of coconut-scented moisturizer, Five almost let himself trust his brother.

[cilldaracailin]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr lovelys!

I am back with the next part of this story and I have left some gift baskets around the story with paper bags, oxygen masks, chocolate, blankets and some more chocolate. Please make use of them as needed as you read this part.

This one is for @hitmeonmytspot​ @fuseburner​ @primaba11erina​ and @turkish276​

Please don’t all come for me at once and perhaps some warning before hand would be wonderful!

Suze xxx

P.S There are a good few Irish words in this part and there is an English translation straight after. I normally phonetically sound out the Irish words but because there are quite a few, I am not going to, unless someone really wants me to.

P.P.S That might just be me on St Patricks Day years ago in my Irish Dancing costume in the picture....

6

“Cleachtadh a dhéanann maistracht – Practise makes perfect”

As she made her way back to her table, she said hello to anyone she knew and as she wandered closer to her seat, she could hear loud laughter and didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved.

“Thanks Robyn.” Taron took his bottle of beer from her and she set the other drinks on the table in front of him.

“So, you are still alive then.” She said pulling a chair over beside him.

“And you too. Claire quiz you?”

Robyn grinned at him. “Just some girl talk.”

“Bloody girl talk.” He muttered before taking a drink from his bottle.

“We have been having a very interesting conversation with Taron.” Shane said wriggling his eyebrows at Robyn.

“It doesn’t surprise me at all.” She answered him. “And have you mauled him yet?” She threw his way, grinning as Shane blushed from ear to ear.

“Robyn!” His voice was a near high pitch squeal.

“And may I remind you that you are married.”

“You are coming out all defensive already Robyn and the evening hasn’t even begun. I was asking him about his time filming Rocketman.”

“I just know what you are like.” She answered him back and felt Taron shift a little in his chair so he could be a bit closer to her.

“He wanted to know about how we filmed the under-water scene.” Taron explained. “And if the hot pants chaffed.”

Another round of laughter circled the table. “It is a valid question and as a gay man, I think it is ok to ask.” Explained Shane.

“And did you get you answer?” Robyn asked as Claire took a seat beside her, carrying a tray with some drinks for everyone else at the table.

“Was waiting for it when you arrived back on your high horse.”

Robyn stuck her tongue out at her male friend and turned her attention to her drink. “Well don’t let me stop the conversation.”

Taron looked from Shane to Robyn and back to Shane before taking a glance at Claire who nodded her head at him and after he had swung his arm around the back of Robyn’s chair, answered the question.

“Not at all. They were actually quite comfortable.”

“They didn’t go up your bum?”

Robyn was mid swallow of her drink as Shane asked the question and some of it dribbled out of her mouth and she sat forward quickly trying to catch the drops in her hand so it wouldn’t get on her skirt. She was thankful for the tissue Claire quickly got her and wiped her chin and her hands before turning to Shane and glaring at him.

“You think you are the only one who can play this game?” She asked him with an edge to her voice.

“What game?” Asked Shane. “It is a genuine question and seeing as how Taron wore some, he has experience in this area.”

Robyn turned to look at Taron and he had one of those little cute half smiles on his face. “You do not have to answer that.”

“Not the way you thought this was going to go, huh chicken”? He asked her his eyes dancing with delight as he took in her angry stare at her friend.

“Chicken?” Claire’s voice took Robyn’s attention away from Shane and to her. “He just called you chicken. Why has he just called you chicken?”

“Ugh, I bloody hate you all.” Robyn threw her body back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, a sulk on her face and pout on her lips.

Taron couldn’t help but laugh at her. He couldn’t have adored Robyn more in that moment and if her friends hadn’t of been around, he absolutely would have tried to poke the pout from her lips but as she was already embarrassed, he shuffled a little closer to her and swung his arm around her chair again, placing a light kiss on her head instead, ignoring the stares he could feel from her friends. Both himself and Robyn had expected the same taunts and heckling he had gotten from his friends but so far it had been the complete opposite and his normally composed Robyn was infuriated with her friends and he was kind of really enjoying the little tantrum she was pulling, something he rarely saw from her.

Still grinning he turned back to Shane. “I honestly can say that no, they didn’t and I am assuming that is either down to the massive size of my arse or the wonderful abilities of the costume designer.”

“Well that is all I wanted to know.” Replied Shane.

Taron nodded. “However, I will stick to my trusty boxers though but give them a go Shane. You might like them.” He watched as the married couple looked to each and winked and Taron turned his attention back to Robyn. “Smile.”

“No.” She answered him.

“Please smile.” He asked again. “Or I will do something drastic to make you smile.”

“No.”

“You are at a table in front of your friends and I will not hesitate at all to tickle you here and now.” He whispered into her hair, pretending he was kissing her head again.

“So…” Robyn sat up on her chair. “How has everyone’s day been.” She saw the beautiful grin on his face from the corner of her eye and allowed a calming deep breath to fill her lungs, the scent of Taron’s aftershave filling her senses as she inhaled, he was still that close to her and it helped to lift her mood immediately.

The table’s conversation was filled with laughter and stories and once Taron and Robyn had again talked through what happened at the 7/11, Robyn’s friends finding it a bit more difficult to hear the story from the man she had saved, the cheeky banter slowed down and the conversation became more about getting to know everyone at the table.

“Does it get draining though?”

“Not so much draining but frustrating.” Claire had asked Taron about his re-shoots and filming the same scene over and over. “You could get it perfect and then the director wants the same scene from a different angle and you could fluff a line or not put the same emotion needed or just not feel as happy as you could be with the performance. I am a perfectionist on set and it works against me sometimes. I can get annoyed very easily with myself if I keep doing it wrong and even more so when I know my mistakes wastes time.”

“Sounds like Robyn.” Said Emma. “Total perfectionist at work, maybe a little bit too much of OCD too.”

“Which came in very handy when we had the inspection last week.” Robyn answered back.

“Well I can’t argue with that. First time I have had an inspection where my staff were complimented.”

“Me too.” Agreed Robyn. “But then I am pretty awesome.” Robyn laughed.

“Fucking awesome.” Corrected Taron, laughing with Robyn at his words.

“Ok share the joke.” Complained Claire.

“Just something one of Taron’s friends said on New Year’s.”

Claire was about to question it again when the microphone screeched a little and their attention was taken by the man standing at the top of the gym. “Beannachtaí Lá Fhéile Padraig!” He said excitedly into the microphone.

“Happy St Patricks Day.” Robyn translated for Taron, grinning as he rolled her eyes at him.

“Kinda figured chicken.” Chuckling as she lightly elbowed him in his ribs.

“So, let me quickly explain how this is going to work. Those of you who have been to one of these before know most dances comprise of four pairs, eight people in total so some of you may need to buddy up with others but it doesn’t mean a group of four can’t figure it out too. I don’t know if you have noticed that your tables have numbers on the them and they correspond to your place on the floor. To help keep everyone in place, we have also put some footprints on the floor too so you can make sure to stand on your footprints, just so we don’t have groups dancing on top of each other. You can come and go as your please but we just ask that you wait until one dance is finished before you come and go, just to keep some sort of order on the floor. I am obliged to show you the fire exits. The way you all came in, three along the wall behind me and three on the opposite side. We will begin very soon and all that is left for me to say is bain sult as duit féin agus ná bíodh imní ort faoi na céimeanna a fháil mícheart. Tá sé ach beagán spraoi agus beidh an craic againn.”

A cheer went up and although Taron clapped along he turned to Robyn with a look that just screamed help.

“Robyn?”

“He said ‘Enjoy yourself and don't be worrying about getting the steps wrong. It's just a bit of fun and we'll have the craic’.”

“Thank you. So, everyone understood that accept me.” He looked around the table at the blank faces.

“What did he say?” Asked Shane.

Robyn quickly repeated the English translation for everyone else at the table. “Not everyone speaks Irish or understands it. Maybe a few words here or there.”

“Hadn’t a clue.” Agreed Shane. “You English taking our native language.” He smirked toward Taron.

“And Taron is Welsh Shane, not English.” She patted Taron’s knee, reassuring him after Shane’s words. “And some of us paid attention in Irish class in school.”

“Wasn’t for me.”

“No but the teacher was! I am surprised you didn’t actually grasp the concept of the language.”

“It wasn’t the language I wanted to grasp!” Shane winked, earning a dig from his husband but he appeased him with a quick kiss to his lips.

Taron laughed and then smiled before looking away from the little intimate moment between the two and he turned his attention back to Robyn.

She noticed the change in direction of his body and turned to him. “So, you ready for a dance?”

“Well to fully embrace my Irishness, yes and I apologise now if I stand on your foot.”

“Well you didn’t in Aber so I think I can trust you.”

“Please remember you said that at the end of the evening.”            

Within the next ten minutes a slight buzz of excitement filled the air as the Irish music stopped and the group of people in charge of the céilí were getting set up around the gym, making sure they each knew which section of the floor was theirs so they could teach the dances to the groups, helping each group as they got into the literal swing of things.

“Ok and we are ready to go! So, if you want to make you way up to your number, we can get you all started.”

Robyn looked around the tables as no one moved. She looked to Taron and tilted her head towards the floor and he immediately stood up and taking her hand skipped with her to the dance floor in the middle of the tables, Robyn giggling at his actions as he found their table number on the floor and stood directly on it.

“And thank you so much Miss Quinn!” Robyn made a fake curtesy to the MC. “And your partner.”

“Dean!” Robyn grinned. “This is Dean!”

Taron looked to Robyn and could only smile at her grin on her face and then back to MC smiling. “Yep that’s me Dean.” He turned back to Robyn. “Seriously. Is there one person in this town who does not know who you are!” He laughed as she pulled a face at him but was distracted from returning his own, when Shane and Darragh stood beside them.

“We’re here too! Ready to Riverdance our hearts out and give Michael Flatley a run for his money.”

The four broke out in laughter and once the other tables saw Robyn, Taron, Shane and Darragh get up first to the floor, they slowly filtered their way up and took their places on the dance floor, the rest of Robyn’s friends joining them.

“So, we’re sticking with Dean huh?” Taron asked he stood beside her with Shane and Darragh opposite them in a square shape, the other four from their table behind them in the same square formation.

“Seems to working for you today.” She replied to him.

They were been given a very quick walk through demonstration of the first dance of the evening, The Walls of Limerick.

“Do you know this dance?” Taron asked her.

“This is the only one I would know. We did this in school as kids.” She told him as the music started.

“Ok well I am counting on you then to get these one two threes right.”

Robyn laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I think I might enjoy this more than you rocketman.”

The helpers counted everyone in and the dance started. Robyn knew Taron would have no trouble with getting the basic one two three of the Irish dancing step or keeping in time as with his musical ability, keeping rhythm and time came so natural to him but it was more making sure they went in the right direction and she almost convulsed with giggles as he crashed into her as she went to the left while he went to her right and he had to catch her, lifting her in the right direction before he set her down again.

“Stop laughing Robyn!” He muttered as they danced forwards and backwards again but she just made a face with him as she swapped places diagonally with Darragh opposite her before Shane switched with Taron and holding each other’s hands they spun around in circles.

They stood on the outer square while Emma, Tommy, Claire and Nick had their turn with the dance and Robyn was still giggling away.

“Best night ever!” She laughed. “Oh, I wish I could have videos of these dances!”

“I will get the hang of it!” Taron insisted as he concentrated on watching the dance play out in front of him again. “Not all of us have Irish dancing in our blood or did it as a kid.”

It was a pure look of concentration Robyn had never seen on Taron’s face before and he held her hand firmly when he needed too and made sure his direction was perfect the second time and as he spun Robyn around and back to their place giving the other four their chance to have their turn he did an extra little step, delighted with himself he got it perfect.

“Told you!” He grinned.

“You are a quick learner but I already knew that.”

Once each set of four had danced the set twice more the music ended and a huge roar and applause went up in the gym, Taron clapping enthusiastically with everyone else.

“Oh, Robyn this is just the best Irish thing ever. I am so glad I could come over. I desperately needed something like this to just shake all my stress and anxiety off. Thank you so much.” He gave her a sideways hug and she grinned at Claire who made kissy faces at her, Robyn returning her own to her friend as she stood close with Nick.

The next dance in the set was called The Siege of Ennis and instead of two groups of four, involved all eight, two lines of four standing opposite each other. Every group was given another brief walk through of the dance and it carried the same basic steps as the other, criss crosses, spins and even a bridge of arms. They started off great, but soon the four pairs became a tangle of arms, wrong directions and mountain of giggles and laughter, having to go back to the footsteps on the ground waiting so they could start again. On the second try and with some guidance from one of the helpers, they got through one round of the dance and needed no help for their third and fourth round.

Robyn could see that Taron was thoroughly enjoying himself and his whole demeanour had flipped from that morning, a ridiculously honest smile on his face. She was so delighted that the day had turned positive for him, hating it when he was down over his work though she was still slightly concerned about his upcoming job knowing how he was going to have to dig really deep for the emotion needed for the character he was playing, the reality of the story of an abused son making Taron want to put everything he had into it. Shaking her head, Robyn brought herself back to the present and looked to him as he happily chatted with Emma and her husband and Nick, while herself, Claire and the other married couple stood talking to each other a few footsteps down as they waited for the next dance to begin.

“You can bring him to visit us any time Robyn.” Smiled Shane. “He is a darling and dotes on you something shocking.”

“He does not.”

“Listen here Robyn Quinn, that boy is head over heels in love with you and you may not have noticed the little touches he gives you, like a hand on your shoulder or around your waist but I have and my God I am so jealous of it all.”

“I think you are going to be divorced by the end of today.” Darragh grinned to his husband. “But Shane is right.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at her friends. “We are…”

“Just friends.” They all said together, Robyn frowning at them.

“Does he have to have such a perfect side profile.” Sighed Shane.

“So, I am going to take my husband outside for some air. We will be back.” Darragh placed his hands on Shanes shoulders and guided him out of the hall, Claire and Robyn laughing.

“They are going to do what you and Taron need to be doing.”

“And you and Nick.” Robyn countered. “Which by the way, the spins are not hip to hip spins but hand to hand spins.” She grinned.

“They never specified that in the instructions.” Laughed Claire and she glanced at Nick who was a in fully animated conversation with Taron. “I just want to kiss him.” Claire sighed.

“Then go and kiss him.” Suggested Robyn. “I really don’t think he will mind. He was asking where you were earlier during the choir’s gig.”

“I was watching from afar.”

Robyn watched the hopeless look on her friend’s face. “Claire please just go and talk to him, ask him out! Kiss the man! I absolutely guarantee you that it will be a very positive result and a yes to going for a drink. He is such a wonderful person.”

“So is Taron.”

“We are talking about you and Nick, not me and Taron.”

“You go and kiss Taron and I will kiss Nick.”

Robyn looked to Claire as she gave her the ultimatum and could see the seriousness in her face. “Really?” She asked tilting her head.

“You go and kiss Taron right now before the next dance starts and I will go and kiss Nick.”

“A kiss. Sure, no problem.”

“And not just a kiss on the cheek Robyn. A proper kiss on his lips.”

“Well the same goes for you too.” She watched as Claire’s face faltered a little. “You are going to give out such demands you need to follow through with them on your part.”

“I will.”

Robyn held out her hand and Claire gripped it tight, both girls adding their second hand. It was a well-used promise handshake they had created when making a deal with each other when they kids and had become their tradition as they grew up and once the handshake was made, the deal had to be followed through with or else face a forfeit of the others choosing. Handshake given and promise assured, Robyn grinned to her friend and saluted her. She turned away and prayed no one could see her heart beating wildly in her chest. She only agreed to go through with this stupid plan because she knew Nick was desperate to ask Claire out but both her friends were so hesitant to make a move so if a little kiss from Taron, something she had with him before, would sort them out, she was very willing to do it and not just because she wanted to kiss him. Again. She just wanted to help her best friend. That was what she told herself anyway.

Taron was standing still talking to Nick, Emma and Tommy, a beautiful but tired smile on his face and he was talking with his hands, still about music, specifically the music of Elton John and Robyn knew he was in his element at the moment. His cheeks were a little red from the slight heat in the gym and the two dances they had just danced and he had opened all the buttons of his check shirt, the material now hanging loosely against his body and she was suddenly regretting her quick and sudden deal with Claire, realising she hadn’t actually thought this through properly. Claire would not be happy with a simple peck on his lips, the deal requiring much more and her hands started to shake as she strolled toward the little group. She wished she hadn’t been so rash with her plan to get Nick and Claire together. Her heart was hammering and she could feel her stomach swirling in knots, her hands shaking a lot more and all she could think of was how handsome and gorgeous he looked just causally standing there talking to her friends. He had been such a gent and so wonderful with her friends, getting to know them, willingly sharing stories of his life with them and he was just happy. Pure happiness radiated from every inch of him and it was how she liked seeing him best however now as she walked towards him, she never even considered her end of the deal with Claire and how a kiss with Taron was going to affect her or him and it was suddenly a very bad idea.

“Hey Robyn.” He said giving her one of his trademark grins that spread over his face. “I was filling Nick in on our sing song with Elton.”

A very bad idea but with her head held high she walked right up to him. “You trust me, right?” She simply said.

“Of course. Always.”

“Ok well then trust when I say this is for the greater good in the long run.”

She took one long breath, her lungs filled with a mixture of humid air in the gym and that wonderful aftershave he always wore and it made her a little dizzy but she couldn’t back out and stepped right up to him, taking in his now slightly amused face, his stunning eyes, a light brown colour even in the green glow of the gym, opening wide and searching hers as he looked down to her, his forehead creasing as he raised his eyebrows in an almost question as to what she was up too. She heard and felt the hitch of breath he took as she pressed her body up against his and with her hands going to the back of his neck, lifted her head so she could reach his lips with hers and with perhaps a little more weight at first then she meant to, pressed her lips against his, then keeping them soft and light, Taron immediately tilting his head so their noses didn’t bump, his hands going to her waist pulling her right against him.

He knew what was coming before it happened, the determination in which Robyn walked towards him and the way she looked at him told him what she was going to do, her words of ‘you trust me’ making it so obvious what was going to happen but it did not mean he was prepared in any shape of form for the force at which she kissed him. Robyn stalled against him, her lips just resting against his, not moving at all and it took every part of him not to run away with the kiss. Feeling her silky lips against his caused a rush of electricity through his whole body and he parted his lips a little so her bottom lip slipped in-between his and he did his best to hold in the moan he was so desperate to let go from his body as he gently started to create the tiniest motion of friction so their lips finally moved against each other’s. His head was spinning and he knew if he dared to open his eyes, the room would be twirling around him so instead his closed his eyes tighter and pressed his mouth a little harder against Robyn’s knowing well that her lipstick had already transferred to his lips and not caring that his fingers dug into waist for a mili-second before he brought his hands up to her face. His hands cradled her neck, his thumbs at the edge of her face in front of her ears, giving him an almost better grip on her so he could hold her face in place as he moved his lips more against hers and taking the lead, he dared to move the slightest half inch away from her, her bottom lip falling from his, before he went back in immediately for a second kiss, not even taking a breath into his lungs for fear that if he waited too long he wouldn’t get a second kiss and it was also desperation that spurred him on not knowing if and when he would ever get a kiss like this with her again.

As Taron’s nose brushed against hers once more as he moved his head to tilt his face in the opposite direction, Robyn copied his hand position and moved her hands, pulling his face closer to hers as she felt him pull away, Robyn now taking control of the kiss back, gliding her lips over his before she stood right on her toes so she could capture his top lip between hers, increasing the tight hold on his face and the pressure at which she was kissing him, drawing his lips into hers. The scratch of his facial hair felt so satisfying on her skin and as he parted his lips once more, she let his wonderful damp and velvety lips take over their kiss, Robyn pressing her body further into his, the heat from him only increasing the building temperature between them. Robyn could feel his hands holding her face a little harder than he normally would and his nose swept hers once more as he changed his head’s position again. The way he moved his lips so nimbly against hers, made kissing him effortless and Robyn was very quickly finding it so difficult to keep her restraint and she had to make herself stop kissing him knowing the forth head tilt from Taron was a sign it was long enough but she needed to get one last kiss in and as she pulled away from him went back in to have one more light feather peck, a silent sigh leaving her body as her forehead rested on his, her hands still on his face. Taron leaned in to steal one last and final kiss from her, his lips in a full grin as his slightly wet and parted lips met hers and she could feel the smile on his lips and she knew she had the exact same one on hers.

“Jesus fucking Christ in heaven! What was that!”

Taron and Robyn, whose bodies were still locked together, turned their heads to see Shane and Darragh staring at them, Shane’s eyes open wide, his hands on his cheeks too. Robyn didn’t give him an answer but turned around to stand in front of Taron and looked to Claire with a smirk.

“You’re turn.” She simply said to her friend, her hands reaching for Taron’s which were now around her waist and she was so glad he had a tight hold of her because her legs were like jelly, her head was spinning and her lips were on fire and the heat from Taron’s body felt glorious agasint hers.

Claire was mortified, not believing Robyn would even dare to kiss Taron in such a way, thinking she was going to chicken out but she didn’t. In fact, Robyn had gone above and beyond and shared a kiss with Taron that was extremely intimate, quite thorough and as she witnessed it, could firmly say it was definitely heated. Claire had been by Robyn’s side as she fell madly in love with Keith but had never seen her best friend share a kiss like the one she had just shared with Taron with Keith and it wasn’t even a kiss of a couple in love, well love that had been admitted to each other. It was just two friends kissing but it was so much more when watched from the outside. They their hands rested perfectly on each other’s cheeks and they just knew how to position their heads so they didn’t bump noses and it had the perfect amount of everything a kiss needed and as Claire stood with her mouth open as she witnessed their kiss, their first proper kiss, she was stunned. It was near perfect. She hadn’t missed that at one point Taron took the lead with the kiss, seeing how much he wanted to kiss Robyn so much more than he was letting on and it made her a little sad to know that Robyn wanted it as much as he did and the two were just holding back so much.

However, now that Robyn had fulfilled her end of the deal it was her turn and she was stood frozen on the spot. Robyn was always a little braver than she was, especially over the last three years and although she had doubted that Robyn would follow through with the kiss, her best friend had gone and kissed Taron hard and without a doubt Claire knew she now had no choice but to kiss Nick, the man she had been crushing on for at least four years.

“Claire.” Asked Robyn looking to her friend, who hadn’t moved for a few seconds, motioning with her eyebrows for her to go over to Nick.

“Nick you want to help a girl out here?” Robyn was surprised to hear Taron speak and even more shocked when Nick walked past them, over to Claire and placing his two hands on her cheeks, kissed her, a lot more deeply then Robyn and Taron kissed and a few wolf whistles went up around them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on and why everyone is kissing everyone else and why I am not getting kissed by anybody!”

Robyn felt Taron’s chest move with his laughter and closed her eyes as he threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “You are in trouble Miss Quinn.” He whispered to her, his breathe hot against her cheek. “And have a lot of explaining to do.”

She gave his hands a squeeze and felt the deep breath he took, taking one of her own and turned to face him, not missing the flush on his face or how his eyes were now a swirling mix of brown and green.

“What it with all the kissing!” Shane asked again, clear frustration in his voice.

“Want to go outside?” Robyn asked him. “Before the next dance starts?”

“Please.”

Without a word to those around her, Robyn lifted Taron’s arms from around her shoulder and over her head, keeping a grip on his hand and started to lead him off the dance floor. As they walked, she could hear Shane complaining again and as she walked past Claire, she gave her a little push with her left hand, breaking the kiss between herself and Nick, winking at her. “Not that hard was it?” She said as she walked past them, still keeping a tight grip on Taron’s hand.

She guided him out the front door of the club house and to the left walking down the footpath a little and to a little corner she knew of where they could talk.

“So, Robyn what is with all the kissing?” Taron asked her as he leant against the brick wall behind him, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not that I am complaining, just to put that out there.” He added, hoping that his face had cooled down a little, though his cheeks still felt incredibly hot and even the chill in the late-night air wasn’t helping to cool his overheated body down. He could still feel Robyn pressed up right against his body and he had hugged Robyn so many times before, tight gripping hugs where she was properly squished against him but when their touching bodies were from the result of a kiss, it was a completely different feeling all together. “Sometimes a man needs a bit of warning before he is assaulted with kisses.” He gave her a little half smirk, keeping his arms folded against his chest, resisting the urge to touch his lips, instead rubbing them together and licking what he knew was her lipstick from them, that cosmetic taste in his mouth a little reminder that once again Robyn had kissed him and not just a little kiss, a proper full on, lip sucking kiss and it was glorious and he saw a few fireworks set off behind his closed eyes.

“You never warned me outside the lift.”

He grinned at her response. “Robyn, I kissed your neck. You fully planted one on my lips and in front of your friends and it was more than just a little kiss. Honestly, I thought you were going to slip me some tongue at one point.”

“Ugh eww Taron no!” Robyn turned away from him and squeezed her eyes shut biting her bottom lip before she turned back and prayed her face was calm and composed. “Just no. You are my friend.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “So chicken, care to explain what that was all about? I am guessing something to do with Claire, maybe a bet of some sorts? She looked mortified. What did you two agree too.”

“I am really sorry Taron, about the kiss.” Robyn stepped a little closer to him and leaned opposite him against the wall.

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You don’t have to apologise to me over it. You did ask me first in a way.”

“I asked you if you trust me.”

“And I do.” He assured you. “And you know I do, with my life.” He waited for Robyn to start with an explanation but she was staying silent. “Come on Robyn. Spill or I am ringing Diean right now to tell him about our kiss. He has been bugging me about the New Year’s Eve kiss constantly so I know he will love this one!” Taron pulled his phone from his jeans pocket but Robyn quickly snatched it from his hands.  

“I did do it for Claire.” She started to explain quickly, still holding Taron’s phone, her eyes glancing down very quickly as his screen lit up as she accidently swiped his phone, a new picture of the two of them on his screen, one from New Year’s Eve they had taken on the beach before they went to her home. “I hadn’t actually planned just to land a kiss on you like that, I promise. She is so desperately in love with Nick and has been since he joined the choir four years ago and you know we had this match making plan and I know Nick has been fawning over Claire since I introduced the two of them after a gig we did. So, we were having our girl talk…”

“I am going to ban girl talk.” Interrupted Taron. “Bane of my life. Even Rosie and Mari have their girl talk now. No boys allowed!” He complained.

Ignoring him, Robyn continued. “Well during our girl talk, Claire told me that I wouldn’t kiss you and I replied to her with the oh so mature answer of well you won’t kiss Nick and I was like sure I would kiss you if she kissed Nick and she was like well if you kiss Taron I will kiss Nick and then she made the deal tougher by saying that it couldn’t be a kiss on his cheek, as in your cheek, it had to be on the lips and I was like well if I do this, knowing and hoping you wouldn’t mind, I mean we have kissed before, Claire would have to follow through and kiss Nick and like I said, I already know that Nick has a thing for Claire and Claire is like a love sick puppy when she sees Nick even if she won’t admit to it and then we agreed and shook on it using our special handshake which we cannot go back on so I had to go first and kiss you and then we kissed and I was like go on Claire and she stalled and looked at me as if she had seen a ghost and I mean I had just kissed you so she had to follow through with our deal and she just stood there with a blank face, and then you spoke to Nick and he just went and kissed her instead and hey how did you get Nick to do that so quick with just some words and he went straight in for a kiss but Claire totally broke our deal she needs to do the forfeit but I mean…”

Taron watched as Robyn started to talk fast and her words jumbled together as she moved away from the wall, still with his phone and placed back and forth in front of him her hands moving as she spoke and as she rambled on, Taron was grinning from ear to ear. Sure the kiss played complete havoc with his emotions and he was still light headed and buzzing from the feeling of kissing her but he did not regret it at all or how he kissed her back and as he stood away from the wall he automatically found himself biting his lip, still feeling Robyn’s against him and he chuckled as Robyn began to speak even faster. She always spoke fast, her words almost blurring together even more so when she was excited or as he found out the hard way, angry and she was doing it right now, almost without taking a breath. He stepped in front of her, stopping her mid-stride and without a second thought, he reached forward and put his hand over her mouth to stop her which she did but he pulled his hand away quickly as she licked him.

“Don’t lick people.” He grinned. “And like I said, you don’t have to apologise to me. You asked me if I trusted you and I said yes and I do and when you were at the bar with Claire, Nick and I were getting to know each other. He let it slip that he was very happy you asked him to come along as he has the biggest crush on Claire. I did a little match making of my own and told him he should tell her but he wasn’t really feeling brave enough too. After you kissed me and egged Claire on, I put two and two together and thankfully Nick took the hint and the first step and went to kiss her.”

“You little sneaky rocketman. Hatching plans of your own.”

“Except Nick and I did not have a handshake to seal the deal.”

“I am going to make Claire pay for not stepping up.”

Taron grinned. “I think she will give you whatever you want after that kiss she had with Nick.”

“Finally.” Smiled Robyn. “Those two has been making googly eyes at each other for years.” Robyn looked down to her hands as she accidently swiped his phone again and she saw their picture. “I am sorry for just kissing you like that Taron.”

“It’s ok. I think I can forgive you when you ramble on nervously like that and if we got Claire and Nick together, than mission accomplished.”

“Taron…”

“Honestly, it is ok.” He stepped closer to her and held his arms out for a hug, which she walked into. “Don’t over think it ok. I know what you are like. It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.” Repeated Robyn into his shoulder but it was so much more than just a kiss and as she started to re-live that wonderfully delicate and smooth kiss, his phone rang in her hands, ending the short hug between then. “It’s your mam.” She said to him, looking at the name on the screen.

He smiled and took the phone from her and answered it with a light cheery tone. “Hey mam!”

“Hello love! I just wanted to check in with you before your night became too Irish and you would forget to call your mother back.” Hearing Tina’s words, Robyn laughed. When Tina heard the laughter, she knew Taron was with his reason for his visit to Ireland. “Hello Robyn.”

“Hey Tina!” Robyn said loudly so she could hear him.

“Hi Robyn!”

She laughed as she heard Rosie and Mari too. “Hello girls.” Robyn looked to Taron. “I will leave you to it.”

“You don’t have too and you know the girls want to talk to you. Always want to talk to you.”

Robyn grinned. “And you know I adore them but your mother wants to talk to you.”

“And you want to talk to Claire.” He returned.

“Oh my God I do.”

“So, more girl talk.” He rolled his eyes. “Go, I will follow you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sort out that forfeit too.”

“I will.”

Robyn turned on her heels and walked away from Taron, hearing him pick up the call as she headed back for the door, inhaling the cool fresh air was she walked. Her head was still very fuzzy and not only from the specular kiss but also from Taron’s reaction. He was so calm and acceptive of what she had done to him, literally done to him and he was his usual wonderful self and she was so confused by it all. She was expecting at least a tiny bit of backlash from what she had done but there was none. He was completely understanding and had even said he couldn’t complain about what she had done and as she pulled open the door of the GAA club she took a glance back to him. He was laughing and smiling and not for the first time her stomach dropped to her toes. Whatever doubts she had before about being in love with Taron had been well and truly squashed. She, Robyn Quinn, without a doubt was head over heels in love with the man that was Taron Egerton.