#pot of fire and thunder

[dreaming-wavelength]

Kilik holding his little weapons.

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

[soul-eater-screencaps]

Soul Eater Episode 32

More icons here

[mellancholy-morose]

Valentines Gift Exchange

for @chickycherrycola

I agree that we don't get nearly enough B team and had been thinking about them recently before we got our giftees so thank you for giving me the excuse to draw them. I hope you like it This took so long, thank god for whoever asked for the extension

[ink-asunder]

Literally what kind of education are the little six year olds Fire and Thunder getting at the Deapon Weapon Meister Academy. They're literally in the eighth grade with Kilik.

I figure they have their own packets of age-appropriate assignments to work on by themselves, but outside of resonance and combat training, what can be expected of them. There's no way they can keep up in gym class. They're six. Wtf are they doing here

[chalkanthit]

For the SE HC ask: 4!!!

Going for SE Askboard @h0lly-hued-s0ul has made!

Ik it's a bit late but better late than never dkfbdokf

Also going for most of the youngsters bc they're my little precious weirdos uu

Offer a hobby-related headcannon for any character.

Soul

We should all be aware by now that soul is a huge music nerd even if he's pretending to be "just casual" About it but somehow I could even imagine that his guilty pleasure is also baking since... Have you seen the cute little tea and cakes he sometimes brings Maka when she's studying for exams like crazy??? He claims he just buys them from "that one little bakery" That Maka suspiciously never finds but in secret (not really) he really does them by himself and is proud when they're well liked!!

Maka

She's deffenly a little sport nerd kinda girl that got to like things like Basketball and soccer/football quite a lot, but she also would still enjoy a good book (or ten) at times as well next to solving crossword puzzles and other Puzzles and riddles!

Basically everything that makes her Brain go brrrr! Also idk how much it's connected to the hobby aspect, but I hat girl would have Duolingo on her phone and use it almost religiously every evening before bed!

Oh but also she would have a big knack for poetry and writing overall even if she's sometimes quite shy about it since Soul and Black star made fun of it a few times-

Tsubaki

Everything around gardening and cooking???

She also would simply enjoy long walks and nice quality time with her friends since Tsubaki really is this comfy person that likes a calm life but also the fun and more adventureous aspects of it;;;

A part of me can also imagine that she'd enjoy something like Yoga and Ice skating a lot when she gets the chance to do it in peace-

Black star

Sports nerd! Everything that resolves around movement and putting his brain on serotonin 24/7 with the bees on crack he apparently has in his butt-

But also we already saw that he also enjoys comics a LOT and would totally be into video games as well even if he would loose to patty constantly!

Kid

He'd actually like things that put his mind off ease? Like he very much enjoys cleaning much more in a healthy but for many weird manner since who likes cleaning am I right?? But also is very open and keen to things like Chess and plenty of other board games he most likely plays with Liz and Patty almost every Saturday night unless Liz manages to escape :')

Also hey! I can imagine him liking to draw a lot as well together with Patty Duke while listening to murder mystery podcasts-

Liz

Shopping and dancing Q U E E N!

Ik it's basic but hear me out! She just loves fashion a lot and can give people a lot of advice for this topic and would occasionally do makeovers if you let her!

She just blooms so much doing that and seeing how much people can show their other sides as a well! Also my bc especially is that it was initially her idea when Crona was kidnapped on a shopping spree and she would even just offer Ox so many hair stuff in hopes he'll finally STOP shaving it all off like bro.. PLEASE!

Other than that she also got those moves and surprisingly knows a lot about music as well so her, soul and Kilik can actually connect and vibe together super easily and well!

Patty

Again, patty is a huge art person!

Of course she likes other things like beating people up with a passion, but she just loves to be creative and takes almost every medium bc why not trying everything and see how it goes??? Life is too short to be boring and plain!! Patty would most likely also like to bake as well but her creations are.... Experimental to say the least-

At least Stein and Ragnarok do like her stuff weirdly enough..

Kim

Also a little doodle enthusiast but she really would have a knack for Crochet and knitting too since Jackie has taught her the latter! She would rather die than to admit her hobbies and pleasures but she's a big softie when it comes to her interests!

God forbid people would even find out that she likes "girly" Stuff like figure skating and dancing as well.. Oh the horror!

Omg she would also have a secret love for flower arrangements as well but that's just me having more lore and hcs for her past as well that I won't (and likely never will) fully elaborate on :'DD

Jackie

Similar to Kim she loves knitting but also has a big talent and interest in Tayloring as well?? That girl probably had a bit horse phase as well and would actually love to get back into it at some point but a horse in the middle of Nevada is a little too much to ask for-

A bicycle would do as well I guess???

Idk why but Jackie seems a little bit of a person that enjoys Theatre and Musicals a lot as well so take that for what it-

Also little side note I want to add bc it's sth very dear and personal to me but glass engraving and the like?? It just fits quite a bit to her qvq

Kilik

Batic and Linol printed shirts!

The shirts he wears? Self made! The necklace?? Probably as well!! Also another music and Sports enthusiast even if he's more into more combat related sports rather than just running around for a good time!

He seeks the thrill and the surprising so unless you throw something at him out of the blue, he'd just see it as plain and simple training-

The drums are also his hobby but it's less than a hc than it is actually canon in the manga;;;

Overall he's pretty much an everyman kinda guy that has a good amount of Hobbies and interests that overlap with many others he sees as friends!

Fire & Thunder

They're still young as hell so I can't say AS much about them as I like to but they give a lot of crafty energy and would probably get a collecting hobby phase as well like for crystals and all!

Less for the esoteric aspect but more for the minerals itself!

Ox

Again not as much of an HC than it is a fact, but that guy takes a lot or enjoyment into research and other things that make his brain tingle like chess for example! Like he just LOVES burying himself into old history and folklore about plenty of topics and cultures and can easily spend days in it if Harvar wouldn't remind him to eat something in between-

Again I really don't know why, but something in me also knocks at my brain doors and continuesly shoves the HC in my head that Ox actually has a talent to actually draw?? Not like Patty where it's very imaginary and expressive, but more in a sense of scenes and architecture!! Basically pretty black and white and stuff!!

Harvar

It's super ironic but like Kim he actually has some hobbies he either won't admit to or people simply wouldn't believe it since why would a guy like him he interested in something like THAT???

Like liking to go swimming is one thing people could still get behind bc he hates boredom with a passion so it's good to stay active but him actually being into exact the same comics as black star is just super funny in my and it's very much the absolute opposite of Harvar sooo..

Omg but on top of that just.. Imagine him actually do liking video games but nothing like a souls game, but f*cking animal Crossing-

Of course he also likes research and chess a lot like Ox (even tho he's by far more competitive there) but he screams like Modelling as well! (The crafty stuff like building trains or Lego etc)

He just SUCKS at art tho which actually frustrated him-

Bonus

Crona

Crona most likely would catch some interest for poetry and other writing related things as well since they can actually express themselves much better with it without having to speak about it and they don't even have to show it to others as well.. It actually already helps that it exists in the first place and that they have something they can look at like "I made that!"

Aka bullet journaling sounds like sth tame enough for them but still sth to keep their mind somewhere unrelated to u know.. The whole childhood ordeal-

Basically they would enjoy many things that won't put Crona into the spotlight or that is to be shared forcefully so even if it's just reading something, it's just.. Nice;;

Also please give Crona sth calm like Animal Crossing-

Let them share an island with Harvar or Maka dkxbfodndp

Gopher

He sees something that peeks his (or Noah's) intetest, he HAS to overanalyze it and write every crucial detail down!

Like we don't just talk about one smarty little journal! I'm talking about whole Bookshelves worth of Infos written by that puppet alone!! Even his calligraphy and poetry/writing skills and hobbies are top notch and would rub it under Makas nose a LOT!

Hell he would do it so much that even Ox would have to remind him that he was meant to be Makas super annoying rival and not him pfffff!

(You could say that annoying Maka is also a passion of Gopher)

He would actually like to just casually fly and travel around a lot as well even if it's something he just does to get a job done.. If he'd focus more on the aspect itself, there would be much more appreciation etc!!

Also God forbid but he'd be into dnd as well-

My brain tells me to so it must be true!/j

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY INCOHERENT RAMBLING!!!

[soul-dwelling]

I'll be honest before reading the whole manga I truly believed that "wow the B-team get a whole lot of focus!" but after reading it it seems that even if they get more in the end they still feel like negligible parts of it all (besides the Ox-Kim thing and some little scenes) If I was cheeky I would say that it is actually a plus of the anime that they got shown so little because they didnt matter in the end so not focusing on them was the right call.

I mean, I think Team B gets short shrift in the first anime. 

Granted, we get a lot of Kim and Jackie in the NOT anime, thanks to that anime sticking close to the manga. And we get most of Ox’s big moments in the first anime, such as the Ultimate Written Exam, and some anime-only stuff in the Excalibur episodes. 

But we miss out on the big Ox moment, that being his dedication to bring Kim back to the DWMA. 

And we don’t get to see Kilik wielding four weapons. (Anime reboot stans? _That_ is the moment that needs an adaptation.) 

I think losing Ox’s Baba Yaga moment and Kilik’s contributions to fights is enough to make me think they got better served in the manga (although, at least the anime removed the worst parts from the Hiro and Excalibur episode with regards to Kim and Jackie). 

In comparison, I struggle to think how the anime serves Team B better. We get some more scenes with Ox in the Excalibur episodes, and those scenes are funny. Jackie is a non-entity in the first anime. Kilik’s participation in the fight during the third Excalibur episode is well done. We get their disguises in Baba Yaga Castle, but they don’t do something as big and flashy as Team A in that anime finale--important for infiltrating the enemy headquarters, just not as memorable or built up in a way to let us love these characters and cheer them on. I find it hard to act like this anime sequence compares at all to how emotional Kim and Ox get in the manga’s Baba Yaga arc, or Kim’s dramatic arrival on the Moon (before slapping Ox for shaving his head), or Kilik firing Azusa at Asura from the Earth’s surface. 

But you’re not wrong that the fandom response to Team B would give the impression they must be a big part of the manga--because, honestly, this fanbase is usually excellent at giving attention to underserved characters. Maybe that’s more noticeable with how fans give us a lot more depth to Maka and other main characters. But they don’t slouch on giving Kilik and the Pots attention, as well as attention to Kim and Jackie and Ox. 

Too bad Harvar is a rather blank slate. 

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ May I have this dance? ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : It was a late stormy night at the hotel, you weren't able to sleep, but when you sneaked into the kitchen a certain red-haired demon was humming to a tune while cooking.

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 1309 Words

Genre : Fluff

Warnings ➵ None

a/n : Dancing with Alastor? Sign me up (even tho I cannot dance and he would probably kill me for stepping on his feet..-)

Also I personally cannot dance, so I'm sorry if the description of the dancing seems a bit off!

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

For once it was storming in hell, it was a very rare occasion, but once it did storm, it was crazy. The whole city had a blackout, VoxTech was probably going crazy right now. Meanwhile, the hotel was cozy, Alastor used his magic and brought out some candles, so the hotel was clad in nice candlelight now.

Yet here you were laying in your bed, not able to fall asleep. Outside your window the rain was slamming against it, lightning and thunder could be heard every few seconds. Sighing you swing your legs back out of your bed, it is no use, you won't be able to fall asleep like this. Feet hitting the cold floor, a shudder running over your body. Slipping on some socks and a jacket, you take the candle holder from your nightstand and light the candle up again, before you make your way out of the room.

Slowly and quietly you make your way downstairs to the foyer and then to the kitchen, everyone else was probably asleep right now, so that's why you were almost going on your toes. Arriving at the kitchen, the door closed, you noticed soft light shining underneath the door gap, wondering who was in the kitchen this late at night. Opening the door a bit to slip a glance inside, you see Alastor at the stove, candles were lit all around the kitchen, indulging it in soft light. The stove was going with fire, probably thanks to Alastor's magic. He was stirring something in the pot, you couldn't see what it was, but the smell it gave off was enticing.

"How long do you intend to stand there and gawk at me, darling? Come on inside!" Alastor did not turn around at all, making you wonder how you were noticed, unknown to you, his shadow was watching you the entire time since you began to sneak a peak inside. Entering the kitchen now, you close the door behind you softly, pulling your jacket closer around you. Your feet carry you over to Alastor, glancing into the pot. He was making some stew, you couldn't really tell what every ingredient was, but it smelled good. "Open up dear~" Holding the wooden spoon up, he let you have a taste and it was incredible, he had a hand for cooking. It was a slight bit spicy, but not too much. "It's very nice!" Nodding now, as you slowly start to get the things out you actually came for, a cup of tea.

"Oh dear, let me make this for you, do take a seat." Grabbing the cup from your hands, you look at him a bit flabbergasted, yet do as he said and sit down. "Why are you even awake this late? And cooking on top of that?" Watching him, just now you notice how he was still wearing his normal attire, he hadn't changed into sleepwear yet. The only thing he took off was his coat and bow, the first button of his shit open, yet he still looked proper as always. "Oh I just felt like cooking something up, couldn't really rest." Was his answer to your question, afterwards it got quiet again.

Just now you notice how some jazz was playing from his staff, Alastor was tapping his foot along to the rhythm. It was a nice change for once here in hell, simply enjoying some music and calmness. "Do tell me, darling, do you dance?" Looking over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk, smiling and smirks were normal for him, yet this one looked daring and playful. "I'm not really skilled at it if I'm honest, I prefer watching others." Alastor's eyebrow quirked up a bit, the lid of the pot was placed on it now, letting the stew simmer for now. Your tea was almost ready too, as he strode over to you. His hand was extended out to you now, his playful smile a tad bit bigger now. "I beg to differ, my dear, I think you may be a skilled dancer, with the right person to lead you, so.. may I have this dance?" The jazz music getting a tad bit louder now, as he awaits for you to place your hand in his. For a second you were unsure, yet placed your trust in him, in other occasions this may be a bad idea, but right now it's simply a dance.

With a quick pull, you were on your feet, as Alastor slowly started to lead you, the music slowed down a bit, while he took the lead to guide you, probably taking it slow at the start right now. The dance was a swing to the jazz music playing, the more he guided you and twirled you around, the more you got the hang of it. Letting Alastor and the music guide you, the next song was slowly picking up the pace, he was obviously enjoying this, having fun with twirling you around to his heart's content.

"You see my dear, you were only missing the correct partner to make you a darling little dancer~" His words made you blush a slight bit, it wasn't unusual for Alastor to talk to you or Charlie with pet names like dear or darling, but somehow his words now had a different tune to it, they were soft, like he meant what he said with his whole heart. "I guess you're right.." Agreeing with him, as he now noticed how you were slowly getting out of breath, the music slowing down to a waltz, as he pulled you in closer to his body now, his hand now placed on your waist, as his other one holds yours in a soft grip, as on instinct your hand finds its place on his shoulder.

This felt different than before.. more intimate than the fun swing before, his face wore a soft smile, as he looked down at yours, your eyes avoiding his a bit now, too shy to face him. A chuckle makes you raise your head again though, noticing how close he was to you now, mere centimeters between you two.

"So mon amour, how did you like this?" The music was still going and so was Alastor, softly guiding you to the music, but not as concentrated anymore as before. "You definitely are a great guide, it was fun, though I was a tad bit nervous I must admit." Chuckling at your response, he nods. "Don't worry your pretty little head, you were fabulous, like a little dove." Letting your hand go now, he comes to a stop, takes a step away from you and back to the stove. Your breath was still the slightest bit harder from the dancing, you were just happy you didn't end up stepping on his feet or anything.

"Your tea darling, head on out to your room and sleep soon, it's late, can't have you missing sleep now can we?" The cup was placed in your hand, as he guided you to the kitchen door with a hand on your lower back. "Thanks, sleep well too Al!" Giving him a soft smile, as you turn to go back to your room. "Let's repeat this another time darling." His words bring a slight red hue to your face again, as you nod in agreement, before making your way back to your room. Alastor closed the door with a content smile, he didn't get to dance often, and dancing with you, his little darling? An amazing turn of events.

The next day the power was back and the storm gone, the cup on your nightstand empty and after exhausting yourself with dancing, you slept like a kitten this night.

And let's just say, Alastor pulled you into a dance here or there more often now than you thought he would.

[paperultra]

ache.

Pairing: OPLA!Nami x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,004 words Warnings: None

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Wherever she goes, misery follows.

Nature cracks itself open and wails when Nami sets foot in Coco Village, the sun drawing back, the clouds purpling. Raindrops burst open and bleed out on her skin and run in rivulets down the street. Somewhere in the distance, a sharp flash of lightning warns of thunder – and yet, all she can hear is the sharp clink of coins as they fall back into the tribute box.

Gaze unyielding, she sweeps it over the drenched crowd and comes to a stop on Nojiko.

“Not everyone’s here today.”

Her sister does not flinch the way everybody else does. “I brought her amount along with mine,” Nojiko says, and that is all.

“Did you, now.”

Nami knows the weight of what her village owes. She knows how it should fill the box, how it should feel in her arms and on her shoulders. Still, she makes a show of counting the money, slowly, deliberately. The rain continues to beat down on her head, weighing on her hair and turning the dirt into mud beneath her feet.

“You’re short.”

“It’s everything we have, Nami.” Mr. Genzo speaks up this time. “Please.”

“How can I trust that,” Nami replies, her voice colder than the air, “when not everyone is here?”

“She’s sick, Nami,” Nojiko snaps. Her blue hair is dark with rain. “She doesn’t have to be present, does she? All you need and care about is her money, right?”

“I care about her paying the Arlong Pirates what she owes. No more, no less.”

The words taste bitter in her mouth.

(You always get sick before it rains.)

The people, Mr. Genzo, they’re all silent. The tribute box snaps shut as Nami pushes through them and heads down the street.

Nojiko shouts her name. She can hear the slosh of her sister’s footsteps catching up, and when she does, there’s a warning fury on her face as she leans in close.

“Don’t you dare, Nami.”

Nami holds her head high and keeps walking.

“What are you going to do, stop me?”

“I wish I could do more than that.”

“But you can’t.”

Box clutched against her chest, she leaves Nojiko behind and continues on alone.

Your house is near the outskirts of the village – not as far out as her own childhood home, but far enough for privacy and a good bit of land for your animals. They huddle underneath the shelter and watch her with black, beady eyes.

They would fetch a good price.

Nami opens your door and enters without knocking.

She looks around, sees the cold pot of ginger tea on the stove, the unwashed dishes on the table, the heap of blankets on your bed in the corner that shifts. It smells like sickness.

She shouldn’t be here, she tells herself a moment too late.

“Nojiko, is that you?” Your voice slithers out from underneath the pile of blankets, and Nami grimaces at the hoarseness. “I told you I can clean up after myself.”

She thinks to answer. But something keeps her from doing so, and so she sets the box down on the kitchen counter and kneels down to shove some logs into the stove instead.

(She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t –)

“Nojiko?” The mattress creaks. Nami hears a soft gasp and closes her eyes, gritting her teeth. She hastily stacks branches and then some birch bark on top on the logs. “Nacchan –”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You’re home,” you rasp.

Home. Her heart squeezes so hard she thinks she might just die.

“Don’t sound so happy,” Nami says. Finding a match and striking it, she sets fire to the bark and waits impatiently for the flames to build. “I’m only here to collect the tribute.”

“Oh.” There’s a carefulness in the way that you answer, the kind that she’s come to hate. A loud, horrendous cough bursts from your chest before you continue. “Is it enough?”

“Just barely.”

She’ll make up the difference. Dip into her own savings, make another deal with Arlong. He’s cruel, but not completely unreasonable. She can do it. It’ll be okay.

The heat from the fire dries her skin. She shuts the stove door and stands up.

“Thanks, Nami.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Nami makes the mistake of looking over her shoulder at you as she answers. It is a mistake because you grin at her, and suddenly – she’s a child again, at your house for a sleepover –

Your mom is still alive and warming milk on the stove –

You’re giving her a bracelet because that’s what best friends do –

She’s hugging you because you hug the people you love –

And she aches. And she wants. Not just your smile, but everything, the warmth of your back against her palms, your cheek pressed to hers. She wants to clean and put away all your dirty dishes and stay until the fire has warmed each corner of your home and you’re well again.

She wants she wants she wants.

Greed has always been her vice.

“Don’t let all of your tea boil away,” Nami says. She takes your cloak from the hook on the wall and puts it on, then tucks the tribute box underneath her arm. It’s still raining, after all, and she looks after herself above all else.

“I won’t,” you say, and it is quiet before you add, softly, “Stay safe, Nami.”

Nami leaves without another word.

Nojiko is waiting outside, arms crossed, and they meet eyes for only a moment before Nami passes her by.

She retraces her steps away from your house, down the road, into the town square where everyone but Mr. Genzo has already dispersed to escape the foul weather. Coco Village does not bid goodbye when she passes through the gate again, her steps a few million beri heavier.

In the distance, a sharp flash of lightning warns of thunder. Nami wraps her arms around the tribute box, cold, and thinks of you.

[dreaming-wavelength]

I reread parts of the manga and found this little nugget. A rare moment there, Maka interacts with fire and thunder.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch. 

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky? 

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him. 

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her. 

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family. 

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice. 

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt. 

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll. 

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.” 

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel. 

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. ���I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt. 

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger. 

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically. 

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!” 

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?” 

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore? 

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips. 

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself. 

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening. 

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans. 

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.” He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself. 

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full. 

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie. 

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him. 

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,” he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.” 

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from. 

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line. 

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon. 

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you. 

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you. 

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.  

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.” 

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed. 

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.” 

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel. 

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door. 

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.” 

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days. 

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you. 

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving. 

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–” 

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups. 

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone. 

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.” 

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers. 

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open. 

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor. 

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders. 

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.” 

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers. 

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep. 

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together. 

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention. 

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers. 

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.  

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.” 

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down. 

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered. 

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss. 

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there. 

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry. 

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further. 

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him. 

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs. 

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his. 

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look. 

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core. 

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune. 

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue 

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk. 

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know. 

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate. 

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door. 

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to. 

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace. 

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,”  two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.” 

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads. 

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked. 

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

[soul-eater-screencaps]

[cheolism]

frozen cold proposal

✧ seungcheol x reader

✧ summary: seungcheol is stubborn and decides to try and make soup over the fire. you stumble upon a surprise in his pockets when trying to huddle against him for warmth.

✧ wc is approx 1.5k

✧ notes: cursing, bickering but nothing serious. a little brother is mentioned. a lot of choi seungcheol stubborness. inspired by the new in the soop photos. not edited.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whispered, shoving your hands between your thighs for warmth. Your hoodie was pushed up and as tightly wound around your face as you could bear, but that did nothing to save your nose from the cold and bitter winter air that nipped at it. 

You were a fool, a giant fool. What sort of person wanted to go camping in winter? Your boyfriend, the one and only Choi Seungcheol, of course! Seungkwan had said he was crazy and you had agreed, but what did that say about you for agreeing to go with?

“This is it,” you monologue, eyes staring into the crackling fire. “This is how my nose goes. It’s going to fucking drop off into our soup.”

Your boyfriend throws you a look over his shoulder. He’s standing next to the fire, dutifully stirring the soup he insisted on trying to make. 

We’re camping, he said when you exclaimed at him bringing out a pot and cans. I saw someone make soup while camping once. It can’t be that hard.

As much as you loved Choi Seungcheol and wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, you knew better than to get your hopes up when he said “it can’t be that hard.”

That phrase was reserved for special occasions. It was used on your first date when you had despaired over losing to the claw machine for the third time, which in turn had prompted Seungcheol to spend the next twenty minutes there. It was used when your brother had come back to the house upset, tears leaking from his eyes as he relayed that his remote-control boat had gotten stuck in the middle of the lake. 

It can’t be that hard to get it, Seungcheol had said, your little brother’s cheers amplifying his arrogance. 

Five minutes later the heavens had opened up and began pouring down rain, thunder crackling in the distance. You were begging Seungcheol to return to shore while your brother continued to cheer for him, egging him on, intent on getting his boat back. 

So when Seungcheol said that special little phrase, you knew it was best to just kick back and try to relax. But with the winter wind sharp and smacking against your skin, you found it hard. 

“Cheol we have a perfectly good stove inside the cabin,” you begged, shivering. “We rented the damn place for this very reason! For convenience!” 

“Mingyu said it wasn’t hard.” Seungcheol returned, resting the ladle on the side of the pot. “Do you think the fire isn’t hot enough?”

You sighed, flinging yourself back in your chair. Mingyu. Of course it was Kim Mingyu who gave him this idea. Removing your hands from between your thighs, you shoved them inside your armpits. “Seungcheol. You’re the love of my fucking life and I literally can’t wait to spend the rest of our days together. But I swear to every single fucking god on this earth --”

“You can go inside if you want,” he replied. You watched your boyfriend go to the wood pile, removing a few logs. “But a thousand years ago, this was how all humans made their food, you know? Outside, exposed to the elements.”

You guffawed. “Seungcheol! One thousand years ago it was 1000 A.C. They fucking had houses and inside ovens by then! The cold is fucking getting to your brain, oh my God!”

He sighed, turning to you. Seungcheol placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his brow and pouting out his lips. “If you don’t believe in me just say so.”

“I believe in you,” you said, “but not when it’s fucking thirty degrees outside, not counting the wind chill! And! And! I’m fucking starving! Cheol, please, baby, darling.”

Pushing out his lips, Seungcheol threw you one last look before turning to the fire. He grabbed the ladle again, leaning over the pot. “Just go inside and have a sandwich and some chips then.”

Fuck. And now he was sulking. 

Sighing, you stood from your seat. Dead leaves and grass crinkled underneath your boots as you made your way to him. You pressed yourself against his back, removing your hands from your armpits and fumbling with the hem of his three layers. 

“Wait --”

But then you found the edge and lifted it, hurriedly shoving your hands underneath and against his stomach. Seungcheol shrieked, a loud and pitchy sound, one of his hands slapping at your forearm. “Get! Get out! Your hands are fucking cold!”

“I said I was cold,” you murmured, mashing your face against his jacket. Your boyfriend constantly radiated warmth, and somehow, despite the winter weather, tonight was no exception. “This is your price.”

“My price for wanting to make my lover a homemade meal?” He returned, shortly and with a great amount of audacity. 

You pinched at the little roll of fat on his stomach, ignoring his little yelp. “Quiet. You don’t want the bears to hear you.”

“There’s not even bears here,” Seungcheol murmured, but quieter all the same. 

You closed your eyes as you leaned against him, soaking in his warmth. Sometimes you found how hot he ran unbearable, like during the night when the two of you were under blankets and he decided to press himself against you. More times than not you woke up covered in sweat, wrapped in his embrace. 

But now?

Now you were burrowing closer, hands moving to get a better grip on your boyfriend. 

“Baby,” he began, voice strained. “Stop moving.”

Impish, you kept on running your hands over your boyfriend’s skin. You felt his hips, his stomach. You continued exploring his skin beneath the many layers he wore, ignoring his pleas. 

“If you’re getting horny,” you said, one hand moving to where his pants began, “we can solve that. We’re in the middle of the forest, baby. With no one around.” “Y/n, I’m serious,” he said, dropping the ladle in the soup. Your hands froze against him, Seungcheol turning in your hold. “I know you have a problem listening, but --”

When his eyes met yours, he knew it was up. 

Your eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. If it wasn’t so cold and the flies weren’t all hibernating, you’d be swallowing them. 

“Baby?” He tried, voice pitched and on the verge of panic. 

“You --” You pressed closer again, and this time Seungcheol didn’t stop you. You shoved your hand into his pocket, immediately coming upon what had stopped you in your tracks. 

Withdrawing it from his pocket, you cradled the box in your hands. “Cheol?”

Sighing, as if his lover had just discovered a ring box in his pockets when he had intended on setting up a romantic scene to propose to them in, Seungcheol tilted his head back and peered up at the night sky. 

For the moment the two of you were quiet. You could hear the wind whistling, the crackle of the fire. 

“Well?” Seungcheol finally said, his hand in his hair and dislodging his hoodie as he looked down at you. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Gulping, and with half-frozen fingers, you pried open the box. A beautiful ring stared back at you, silver and brilliant, perfect, beautiful. You could barely see what the ring truly looked like, could barely see all the details Seungcheol would’ve been hellbent on including, but you knew it was gorgeous. You knew it. It was a promise from Choi Seungcheol; a promise for forever. A promise to love and care and be there for you for the rest of your lives, and how could it be anything but perfect and gorgeous?

Then Seungcheol was gently pulling the box away from you. You watched, still awe-struck, as your boyfriend sunk down to one knee. 

The firelight illuminated his profile, casting shadows on his noble face. His grey hoodie was lopsided on his head, revealing his thick dark curls. His nose was red from where the cold had bitten at it, and his lips were horribly chapped. 

But what could be more beautiful than that?

Softly, and with gentle eyes and shyly grinning lips, Seungcheol said your name. Nothing could sound as beautiful as that, you knew. 

“Would you do me the absolute honor; would you give me the privilege of being able to marry you?”

You licked at your lips, feeling something sting at the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was just the wind. You sniffled, your palm reaching up and rubbing at your eye. “If -- If I say yes, will I have to stay out here with you while you make your soup?”

Seungcheol laughed, loudly and boyishly. “If you say yes I’ll order us a fucking pizza and beer and we can spend the rest of the night in the heat.”

“Well, in that case,” you said, grinning wildly. You held out your hand, wiggling your fingers. “Hurry up, lover boy, before I lose one of them to the cold.”

“It’s not too late for me to take it back,” he said, taking the ring from the box. Seungcheol’s other hand went to yours, cradling it, as he brought the ring to your fingertip.

You shook your head, the metal of the ring not yet cold as he slid it against your finger. “Nope! You asked so beautifully, Cheol. No take backs.”

“Damn,” he sighed, peering up at you with those beautiful brown eyes that first captivated you, smiling and holding your hand in his. “And here I was really looking forward to that soup.”

[echantedtoon]

Quite A Handful

Sometimes it was a handful to have so many husbands.

(This is inspired by @starrcityyy's Hantengu Wife Y/n art. (Warnings: Their blog does contain NSFW elements and themes that not everyone may like or be comfortable with. Just a heads up. But this WILL STAY Sfw.) I did ask if they were fine with someone writing drabbles inspired by their au before writing this, and they mentioned that they were fine. This is probably not gonna be very long and it's from the perspective of a female reader.

Wife Y/n Concept- @starrcityyy

Demon Slayer- Koyoharu Gotouge

Warning: Karaku IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos. Mentioned killing.)

The thunderstorm I'm the distance between the roof and sky haunted the eardrums as the storm drew ever closer in the darkness.

There truly was nothing but the warmth of the small fireplace within the cozy small house in the middle of the woods. A cozy small hideaway nobody knew but you and a select few individuals. It would shield you well from the harsh elements and keep you safe and sound from the outside. It was your own little safe haven. Just yourself to worry about now. 

The bubbling pot of soup on the stove wafted in waves making even the most stuffed person desire to eat it as you smelt it. A hum of satisfaction left your throat as you nodded and took your hand off the soup ladder after stirring it a few times. This would surely last you a few days. Cooking enough food to last you a few days was always good. Having leftovers only meant you didn't have to cook over a hot stove for a good while. It left you time to focus on other things. Speaking of other things- F/c eyes turned to the door as thunder drew ever closer and closer judging by the sounds in the distance. Now where are they?

They usually weren't this late. 

It was sort of a pattern by now. Usually the first one to show up would be the most skittish one after he runs away from whatever danger scared him. Cowering by your legs and hugging you for comfort. Then depending on how hard the task was, the other four would follow right after either sooner or later. Like said it depended on how hard her husband's work was that day. You supposed tonight would be a hard working day. Until then you busied yourself by picking up a broom to start sweeping up the floor. The faint sounds of broom bristles scraping on the floor added to the crackling fire and the distant thunder. Perhaps that's why-

You didn't hear anything when the door opened.

You didn't see the demon crawling it's way inside scuttling like an insect.

Didn't sense the figure looking behind you until deadly claws wrapped around your form.

"Hi. You're home late," you casuay said not bothering to look up at the form trembling as it clutched onto your kimono. "What happened to you this time?"

"Not my fault! N-Not my fault! The hands that had killed them were not mine!", a voice sobbed and croaked out between cries. 

Yep. Seemed about right.

"Are you hungry? Or did you already eat out tonight?"

"*Hic* I didn't do iiiiiiitttt!!"

"You already ate then. Good to know." 

By now you could already interpret what he meant by his rambles. Wasn't always easy though especially when he had the tendency to go on for ages. An insistent series of weak shaking tugs told you all you needed to know about what he wanted. Without batting an eye, the broom was placed to the side and she assumed the position of turning around and doing the familiar process of hugging the sobbing demon closer to her while he sobbed into the folds of her dress. Make no mistakes. He had the outward visage of a weak old man but he was far from weakly.

"Shh. Shh. There, there now. You're ok. Nothing's going to hurt you. You're alright." Her hand soothingly patted over his back and head being mindful of his horns.

"Monsters. Monsters! All of them! Putting blame on me when it wasn't my.." his voice dissolved into muffled sobs and whimpering in the fabric of hee dress she could barely make out. 

It times like this it would be a while before he was able to pull himself together and this time would be no exception. You spent the better half of an hour just calming him. He had completely almost calmed down when again the door was opened but with much more force. The door frame rattled from the five of the door sliding open and the sound echoed throughout the room. The loud sound had him squealing in fright again and scrambling to hide behind her legs gripping onto the fabric of her dress.

"HONEY, I'M HOME!~"

"Shut UP, Karaku! My head is killing me!"

"It's not my fault you let yourself get hit by that boulder.~"

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT BLEW IT TOWARDS ME YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!"

"Then next time  don't stand in my way ~"

"WHY YOU STUPID-!!"

"That's enough both of you. Your fighting is making me sad." 

Footsteps approached and by the screams she could already tell who else had shown up. One. Two. Three. AAAnd four more demons dangerous and strong. One holding his head annoyed and scowling. Two looking amused by his anger and smiling. And one last one looking a mixture of 'over this' and slightly worried. 

"Hi, honey." You smiled at them. "How was work?"

"Miserabl.     G."  Your husband rubbing his annoyed temples didn't even look up.

"AW. Sekido's just upset because he got a boo boo.~ Big deal.~" Said green eyed husband rolled his eyes when his angrier counterpart shot him a dirty look, but soon put all his focus into giving her a wolfish grin. "But enough about him.~ What's our cute little wifey been up to?~"

"Cleaning. Are you all hungry? I made dinner."

"Nah. We ate before we got here." Another arm wrapped around her and pulled her against a fluffier wing in contrast to his sharp claws that pulled her against him. "But it's so cute seeing you all domestic. Makes me just wanna gobble you up!"

"Let's not eat her. That'll just make all of us sad."

"Aizetsu. I-...I was just joking. Y'know?" Your blue eyes husband just stared. "You know. Like a joke I did just for fun. ...You did know that right?'

".... I'm going to be keeping a very close eye on you from now on."

"Aizetsu, Im serious! It was just a joke. I wouldn't really eat her!"

The veins on Sekido's forehead got bigger than before as Aizetsu stared down a now slightly intimidated harpy demon and Karaku laughed at all three of them. Meanwhile the trembling demon behind you finally let go of your dress in favor of hiding his face in them but still his behind you. Your head tilted in concern at Sekido. Out of all five of them, he seemed to be the only one in genuine pain.

"Well enough of pleasantries.~" Karaku smoothed his bangs to the side before pressing an arm on the wall above your head and giving a bigger smirk. "I've missed this pretty thing.~ How about you and me-"

He fell silent as you suddenly ducked under his arm and out of Urogi's grip. Hantengu squealed as his makeshift shield was removed and all watched as you ignored all of them in favor of grabbing Sekido's head and pulling the lightly surprised man towards you.

"You look worse for wear. Are you alright, Honey?"

Sekido blinked before scowling."Peachy. Karaku blew a dam boulder at me! My head is KILLING me."

You cooed before pulling his head lower to cradle it much to the disgruntled others' dismay. "There, there. Poor baby. Come on. I'll get you some pain medicine and have you lie down."

"I don't need to be coddled!.....But this is fine I guess."

"Do you want me to stay with you until you feel better?"

Sekido paused.. before looking at the others and giving a rare triumphant smirk that earnt him jealous frowns.

"Yes. I'm going to need a LOT of care."

[444rockstargf]

THUNDER. - jack thurlow

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: thunder. - blue banisters

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: if you're on fire, just keep burning...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly

female!reader x jack

word count: 531

contents: angsty, toxic relationship, mentions of alcohol and cigarettes

lightning flickered through the windows of the ghastly eerie house, jack’s voice coming out as booming thunder as his explosive nature broke free once again. your eyes scanned the room as you sat in front of him on the bed, your heart sinking at the cruel words he spoke. 

there were broken picture frames, shattered bottles of alcohol, cigarette butts decorating the room, making it look like the worst storm hit it. 

but jack hadn’t been this stormy a few hours ago. you and him had been at the bar with a few of his friends. ones that you never liked much. you sat at the counter, fidgeting with your thumbs as you listened to him chat away with his buddies. you glanced over at him, seeing the way he beamed with joy as bright as the sun. but nobody knew of the rainy day that would arrive after the party.

you were counting down the days until he would finally strike a bolt through your weary heart. until the day he would roll to the next girl and rain on her parade instead.

his harsh words cut through your thoughts, making your blood curdle. “you just have to be all gloomy everytime we go out, huh?! i have no clue what to do to get a goddamn smile out of you!” you looked down sadly, knowing that he was right. you had left the bar at midnight to go smoke a cigarette in the parking lot, needing to get away from the buzz. 

he met you out there, a bottle of alcohol in his hand glinting from the moonbeams. and just like that, his sunshine was gone. you saw the rage flicker in his gaze, a storm brewing in his mind. 

every argument led to a breakup that lasted as long as a shooting star. he would send you back home, saying that he never wanted to see you again. then he’d show up at your front door in the middle of the night, dressed in a suit with a bouquet of roses in his hand as tears flowed down his hollow cheeks.

the night would end with you two cuddling in bed, his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist as if losing you was the scariest thing in the world to him. and as much as you loved to see the rainbow after the storm, you could never manage to find the pot of gold at the end of it.

you could never tell what was going to be on the forecast. he had always been wild and unpredictable like that, but you love that about him.

he had a burning fire inside of him that made him unlike any man you’ve ever known. he kept you ablaze, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were the one that burnt him out. and that was the last thing you ever wanted to do. 

you and him both knew that the end of the relationship was inevitable, but you wanted to hold onto the warm of his flame for as long as you could before this wild candle of yours stopped burning for good...

author's note: this isnt the fic that I promised yall! its just a short little one that ive been meaning to get out :))

[ink-asunder]

Headcanon: Pots of Fire and Thunder use sign language